Chastelard monologue (Act 5) — Chastelard, a Tragedy

I know not: men must love you in life's spite; For you will always kill them; man by man Your lips will bite them dead; yea, though you would, You shall not spare one; all will die of you; I cannot tell what love shall do with these, But I for all my love shall have no might To help you more, mine arms and hands no power To fasten on you more. This cleaves my heart, That they shall never touch your body more. But for your grief--you will not have to grieve; For being in such poor eyes so beautiful It must needs be as God is more than I So much more love he hath of you than mine; Yea, God shall not be bitter with my love, Seeing she is so sweet.