Now my charms are all o'erthrown,And what strength I have's mine own, -Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,I must be here confined by you...But release me from my bandsWith the help of your good hands:Gentle breath of yours my sailsMust fill, or else my project fails,Which was to please: now I wantSpirits to enforce, art to enchant;And my ending is despair,Unless I be relieved by prayer,Which pierces so, that it assaultsMercy itself, and frees all faults.As you from crimes would pardon'd be,Let your indulgence set me free.
Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was the very day that young Hamlet was born, he that is mad and sent into England.""Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?""Why, because he was mad. He shall recover his wits there, or, if he do not, it's no great matter there.""Why?""'Twill not be seen in him there. There the men are as mad as he.
To die, is to be banish'd from myself; And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her, Is self from self: a deadly banishment! What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by? Unless it be to think that she is by, And feed upon the shadow of perfection.Except I be by Silvia in the night, There is no music in the nightingale; Unless I look on Silvia in the day, There is no day for me to look upon; She is my essence, and I leave to be, If I be not by her fair influence Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.