But O, How Bitter A Thing It

Let Them Obey That Knows Not How To Rule.

My Dear, Dear Lord, The Purest Treasure Mortal Times Afford Is Spotless Reputation; That Away Men Are But Gilded Loan Or Painted Clay... Mine Honor Is My Life; Both Grow In One; Take Honor From Me, And My Life Is Done.

Friendship Is Constant In All Other Things Save In The Office And Affairs Of Love. Therefore All Hearts In Love Use Their Own Tongues. Let Every Eye Negotiate For Itself, And Trust No Agent; For Beauty Is A Witch Against Whose Charms Faith Melteth Into Blood.

It Easeth Some, Though None It Ever Cured, To Think Their Dolour Others Have Endured.

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!