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With fairest flowers,

Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,

I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack
The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor
The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath.

Dost thou come here to whine?

To out-face me with leaping in her grave?
Be buried quick with her, and so will I :
And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
Millions of acres on us; till our ground
Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
Make Ossa like a wart.


Zounds, shew me what thou 'It do:
Woul't weep? woul't fight? woul't fast?
tear thyself?

Woul't drink up Nile ? eat a crocodile ?
I'll do 't.

What dangerous action, stood it next to death,
Would I not undergo for one calm look?
O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd,
When women cannot love, where they're belov'd.

I would out-stare the sternest eyes that look,
Out-brave the heart most daring on the earth,
Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear,
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for

To win thee, lady.


Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye,

Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet,

And I am proof against their enmity.

Your beauty was the cause of that effect;
Your beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep,
To undertake the death of all the world,

So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.

Were I crown'd the most imperial monarch,
Thereof most worthy: were I the fairest youth

That ever made eye swerve; had force and knowledge, More than was ever man's,—I would not prize them, Without her love.

Had she been true,

If heaven would make me such another world

Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,
I'd not have sold her for it.

Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon.

Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I, in such a prison.

For several virtues

Have I lik'd several women; never any
With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd,
And put it to the foil: But you,
O you,
So perfect, and so peerless, are created
every creature's best.

What? I love! I sue! I seek a wife!
A woman that is like a German clock,
Still a repairing; ever out of frame;
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd that it may still go right?

I pray you do not fall in love with me,
For I am falser than vows made in wine:
Besides, I like you not.

I cannot love him:
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;
In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd and valiant,
And, in dimensions, and the shape of nature,
A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him;
He might have took his answer long ago.

Wherefore do you follow her,
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man,
Than she a woman: 'Tis such fools as you,
That make the world full of ill-favour'd children.

I care not for her, I;

I hold him but a fool, that will endanger

His body for a girl that loves him not.

For now my love is thaw'd;

Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire,

Bears no impression of the thing it was.

The time was once, when thou unurg'd would'st vow That never words were music to thine ear,

That never object pleasing in thine eye,

That never touch well-welcome to thy hand,

That never meat sweet-savour'd in thy taste,

Unless I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or carv'd to thee.

Doubt thou the stars are fire;

Doubt that the sun doth move;

Doubt truth to be a liar ;

But never doubt, I love.

Excellent wench!
But I do love thee!
Chaos is come again.

Perdition catch my soul,

and when I love thee not,

I lov'd Ophelia; forty thousand brothers
Could not with all their quantity of love
Make up my sum.-What wilt thou do for her?

O my soul's joy!

If after every tempest came such calmness,

May the winds blow till they have waken'd death.

Come what sorrow can,

It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
That one short minute gives me in her sight.

These things to hear,

Would Desdemona seriously incline:

But still the house affairs would draw her thence;

Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse.

She lov'd me for the dangers I had past;
And I lov'd her, that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have us'd.

I saw Othello's visage in his mind;
And to his honours, and his valiant parts,
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.

He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;
For out o' doors he went without their helps,
And, to the last, bended their light on me.

And, he repulsed, (a short tale to make,)
Fell into a sadness; then into a fast;
Thence to a watch; thence into a weakness;
Thence to a lightness; and, by this declension,
Into the madness wherein now he raves.

For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
The perfume and suppliance of a minute;
No more.

So loving to my mother,

That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly.

I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again;
Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note,
So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape;

And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me,
On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee.

This my mean task would be

As heavy to me, as odious; but

The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's dead, And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is

Ten times more gentle, than her father's crabbed, And he's composed of harshness.

Beshrew your eyes,

They have o'er-looked me, and divided me;

One half of me is yours, the other half yours,—

And so all yours.


Lovers, and madmen, have such seething brains, Such sharp fantasies, that apprehend

More than cool reason ever comprehends.

Such as I am, all true lovers are;

Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,

Save, in the constant image of the creature
That is belov'd.

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