Stay. I prithee, tell me what thou think’st of me.
That you do think you are not what you are.
If I think so, I think the same of you.
Then think you right. I am not what I am.
I would you were as I would have you be.
Would it be better, madam, than I am?
I wish it might, for now I am your fool.
O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of his lip!
A murd’rous guilt shows not itself more soon
Than love that would seem hid. Love’s night is
Cesario, by the roses of the spring,
By maidhood, honor, truth, and everything,
I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause;
But rather reason thus with reason fetter:
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.
By innocence I swear, and by my youth,
I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth,
And that no woman has, nor never none
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.
And so adieu, good madam. Nevermore
Will I my master’s tears to you deplore.
Yet come again, for thou perhaps mayst move
That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.