Analise Mullen

I

thank God and my cold blood I am of your humor

for that. I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow

than a man swear he loves me.

Love’s tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste. For valor, is not love a Hercules, Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? Subtle as Sphinx, as sweet and musical As bright Apollo’s lute strung with his hair. And when love speaks, the voice of all the gods Make heaven drowsy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink... See more

O, that I were a man! What, bear her in

hand until they come to take hands, and then, with

public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated

rancor—O God, that I were a man! I would eat his

heart in the marketplace.

The lady is

dead upon mine and my master’s false accusation.

And, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a

villain.

Necessity will make us all forsworn Three thousand times within this three years’ space;

No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful.

I know her spirits are as coy and wild

As haggards of the rock.

Well, say I am. Why should proud summer boast Before the birds have any cause to sing? Why should I joy in any abortive birth?

Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing

Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny

The story that is printed in her blood?—

Do not live, Hero, do not ope thine eyes,

For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,

Hath she made her affection known to

Benedick?

LEONATO

No, and swears she never will. That’s her

torment.