Act IV, scene ii

Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of
Angelus.

Indeed, Relentless, he lent it me awhile; and I gave
him use for it, a double heart for his single one:
marry, once before he won it of me with false dice,
therefore you may well say I have lost it.

Would that you were as removable.

Why, what’s a movable?

A joint-stool.

Thou has hit it. Come, sit on me.

Asses are made to bear, and so are you.

Women are made to bear, and so are you.

No such jade as you, if me you mean.

Alas! good Buffy, I will not burden thee;
For, knowing thee to be but young and light—

Too light for such a swain as you to catch;
And yet as heavy as my weight should be.

Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry.

If I be waspish, best beware my sting.

My remedy is then, to pluck it out.

Was there ever one so troubled,
To love and love not love.
To fall from heaven and angel’s grace.

In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote;
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted,
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone:
But my five wits nor my five senses can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,
Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,
Thy proud hearts slave and vassal wretch to be:
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
That she that makes me sin awards me pain.

Angels and ministers of grace defend us.
Why, such is love's transgression.
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,
Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:
What is it else? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
Souless creature away.

From the east to western Hannalee,
No jewel is like Buffy.
Her worth, being counted heavenly,
Through all the world bears Buffy.
All the pictures fairest unitary
Are but black to Buffy.
Let no fair be kept in psyche
But the fair of Buffy.

Even where Angelus’ lustful eye or savage heart,
Without control, listed to make his prey.
I miss him so.
Spike, bring you the philter?

Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!
Comets, importing change of times and states,
Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky,
And with them scourge the bad revolting stars
That have consented unto play!

By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible;
true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that
thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful
than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have
commiseration on thy heroical vassal!

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as Slayers can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives line and line gives life to thee.

I have loved her first.

I have loved her best.

Alack, and fie for shame!
Young men will do't, if they come to't;
By cock, they are to blame.
Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
You promised me to wed.
So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.

Now I perceive that they have conjoined all
To fashion this false sport in spite of me.

Darla, your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop tears:
It would seem Spike has set your draught amiss.
Splash. Hoist with his own petard: that’s just neat.

Even now I curse the day--and yet, I think,
Few come within the compass of my aim,--
Wherein I did not some notorious ill,
As kill a man, or else devise his death,
Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it,
Accuse some innocent and forswear myself,
And yet, I’d be an honest villain.

Good morrow, Joan, for that is your name I hear

Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing.
They call me Joan the vampire slayer that do talk of me.

The Vampire Slayer that he loves,
With hate in those where I expect most love!
When I have most need to employ a friend,
And most assured that he is a friend
Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,
Be he unto me! this do I beg of devils,
When I am cold in zeal.

Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind.
Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries:
Didst thou not kill this king?
Dost grant me, hedgehog?

Hearing thy fierceness praised in every tow,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded
Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.

I’ll crush herbs in eyes,
To take from thence all error from their sight,

Or would could make daisy chains
Of their hearts.

That works too.

Because he loves her, he despiseth me.
Because I love him, I must pity him

You live in this, and dwell in lover's eyes

As much as I love to slayOr to do the bottom kicking dance,
So, too, you.

Your heart is burst, you have lost your soul

Mark but this flea, and mark in this
How little which thou deny'st me is;
It sucked me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be:
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead;
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pampered swells with one blood made of two,
And this, alas, is more than we would do.

Give me leave, beseech you. I did send,
After the last enchantment you did here,
Racing in chase of you: so did I abuse
Myself, my servant feet and, I fear me, you:
Under your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you, in a shameful cunning,
Which you knew none of yours: what might you think?
Have you not set mine honour at the stake
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving
Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom,
Hideth my heart. So, let me hear you speak.

I pity you.

That's a degree to love.

No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof,
That very oft we pity enemies.

O, world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the lion than the wolf!
Stay: I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest 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!

Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.

Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill! 

What? As doth the blushing discontented moon
From out the frigid portal of the east,
When she perceives the envious clouds are bent
To dim her glory and to stain the track
Of her leprous passage to the occident.

To discontented members, mutinous parts  

But, I am the Chosen one

Even better, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partition;
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one and crowned with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly:
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,
Though I alone do feel the injury.

I am amazed at your passionate words.
I scorn you not: it seems that you scorn me,
Mock me, with your illogic pursuit
Your logic is not like our earth logic.

I understand not what you mean by this.

Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks,
Make mouths upon me when I turn my back;
Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up:
This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled.
If you have any pity, grace, or manners,
You would not make me such an argument.
But fare ye well: 'tis partly my own fault;
Which death or absence soon shall remedy.

I standeth before you and hear quite clearly
Thy love! out, tawny Tartar, out!
Out, loathed medicine! hated potion, hence!

If he cannot entreat, I can kill.

Cry 'havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;
Whee!

Out, damned Slayers! out, I say!--one: two: three why? 

Give not this rotten orange to your friend.

So, should the murdered look, and so should I
Pierced through the heart by your stern cruelty.
Yet, you the murderer, look as bright, as clear
As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.
I like that in a woman.

You can’t be you, I killed you.
This is the really real world
Thou wert a vampire and I slew you with this stake.

Another Willow?
One Willow died defiled, but you do live.
I saw thee die

Ah, then love that taints my flesh.
I that , set deadly enmity between two friends,
Make poor men's cattle break their necks;
Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night,
And bid the owners quench them with their tears.
Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves,
And set them upright at their dear friends' doors,
Even when their sorrows almost were forgot;
And on their skins, as on the bark of trees,
Have with my knife carved in Roman letters,
'Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.'
Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things
As willingly as one would kill a fly,
And nothing grieves me heartily indeed
But that I cannot do ten thousand more.
That I should love not once but twice of an evening
Sickens me.

You do me mischief. Fie, Angelus!
Your wrongs do set a scandal on my lust:
We can fight, but not as young lover’s do,
My hand should hold wood and not to woo.
I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell,
To sink my stake into the heart that I love so well.

Tarantara, Tarantara, You rang.

I would wish that Angel’s soul’d fly return
That this noble vessel fill full of grief,

Classic gypsy vengeance curse. So shall it be done.

My work here is done.Come on boys.

Will you not return Xander to his normal visage?

Marry, good lady, I would say not,
Harry his face may be, but he is hung like an ass.
And like an ass he is good for being ridden.
I now have a Xander for every occasion.
In prick of manhood let us stand upright,
And go forth.

But how is this possible that there are three Xanders,
two with same face?

Magic staffs, twins cast asunder, science awry,
So, I had a twin?

She was skanky and methinkest kindof gayeth,
Alas, poor Vamp Willow, I knew her well.
Oh, well.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, guys, farewell,
Linoleum.

And hold your fortune for your bliss,Turn where our lady is
And claim her with a loving kiss.
The natural fools of fortune, use us well.

We should return to the city too, There is much I am unclear upon.

Helloo. Hello.