We must love men, ere to us they will seem worthy of our love.
Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts- O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power So to seduce!
Tears water our growth.
Past all shame, so past all truth.
A pair of star-crossed lovers.
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!