—Well, call him hither;— We are reconcil’d, and the first view shall kill All repetition:—let him not ask our pardon; The nature of his great offence is dead, And deeper than oblivion do we bury Th’ incensing relics of it; let him approach, A stranger, no offender; and inform him, So ’tis our will he should.
She is young, wise, fair; In these to nature she’s immediate heir; And these breed honour: that is honour’s scorn Which challenges itself as honour’s born, And is not like the sire: honours thrive When rather from our acts we them derive Than our fore-goers: the mere word’s a slave, Debauch’d on every tomb; on every grave A lying trophy; and as oft is dumb Where dust and damn’d oblivion is the tomb Of honour’d bones indeed.
There are no more uses of "oblivion" in the play.
Show samples from other sources
And if he kept his eye peeled quickly he would see himself, an instant before oblivion,
Ray Bradbury -- Fahrenheit 451
The ache inside Thomas was deep and gnawing, and he tried to sink further into oblivion.