Chastelard monologue (Act 3) — Chastelard, a Tragedy

What makes you sigh though I be found a fool? You have no blame: and for my death, sweet friend, I never could have lived long either way. Why, as I live, the joy I have of this Would make men mad that were not mad with love; I hear my blood sing, and my lifted heart Is like a springing water blown of wind For pleasure of this deed. Now, in God's name, I swear if there be danger in delight I must die now: if joys have deadly teeth, I'll have them bite my soul to death, and end In the old asp's way, Egyptian-wise; be killed In a royal purple fashion. Look, my love Would kill me if my body were past hurt Of any man's hand; and to die thereof, I say, is sweeter than all sorts of life. I would not have her love me now, for then I should die meanlier some time. I am safe, Sure of her face, my life's end in her sight, My blood shed out about her feet--by God, My heart feels drunken when I think of it. See you, she will not rid herself of me, Not though she slay me: her sweet lips and life Will smell of my spilt blood.