Queen monologue (Act 4) — Chastelard, a Tragedy

Alas, what honor have I to give thanks? I would he had denied me: I had held my peace Thenceforth forever; but he wrung out the word, Caught it before my lip, was fain of it-- It was his fault to put it in my mind, Yea, and to feign a loathing of his fault. Now is he about devising my love's death, And nothing loth. Nay, since he must needs die, Would he were dead and come alive again And I might keep him safe. He doth live now And I may do what love I will to him; But by to-morrow he will be stark dead, Stark slain and dead; and for no sort of love Will he so much as kiss me half a kiss. Were this to do I would not do it again.