A plague on both your houses.

And why not death rather than living torment? To die is to be banish'd from myself; And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her Is self from self: a deadly banishment!

Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house; Write loyal cantons of contemned love And sing them loud even in the dead of night.

I have no other but a woman's reason: I think him so, because I think him so.

For naught so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give.

To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, gives in your weakness strength unto your foe.

And keep you in the rear of your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire, The chariest maid is prodigal enough If she unmasks her beauty to the moon.