Act V, scene ii

[Enter Buffy, Wesley, Faith, and Willow

But, my good friends, I wot not by what power,--

That would be my power

But by some power it is,--my love to Buffy,
Melted as the snow, seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gaud
Which in my childhood I did dote upon;
And all the faith, the virtue of my heart,
The object and the pleasure of mine eye,
Is only dear Joan. To her, my friends,
Was I inclined ere I saw Buffy:
But, like in sickness, did I loathe this food;
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
Now I do wish it, love it, long for it,
And will for evermore be true to it.

And so stand fix'd: peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,
That were the servants to this chosen,

Heh!

Buffy, it was wrong for me, As from a bear a man would run for life,
To fly I from her that would be my love.

Buffy, I return from darkness having filled my soul’s cup
And now the longing for rest drowns me, and yet
Your love and pity doth the impression fill
Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow;
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow?
You are my all the world, and I must strive
To know my shames and praises from your tongue:
None else to me, nor I to none alive,
That my steel'd sense or changes right or wrong.
In so profound abysm I throw all care
Of others' voices, that my adder's sense
To critic and to flatterer stopped are.
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:
You are so strongly in my purpose bred
That all the world besides methinks are dead.

I never loved you much; I ha' n’ere praised ye,

I took you for a mortal mineral; which, being took,
Should by the minute feed on life and lingering
By inches waste the one you love..

My soul hath her content so absolute
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.

The gentleman protests too much, methinks.

Enough, your barking gives me the headache.

I do love nothing in the world so well as you.
Is that not strange
Hey!

As strange a thing I know now. Love in choruses,
It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you,
But believe me not, and yet I lie not.
I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing.

Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch;
Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth;
Between two blades, which bears the better temper:
Between two horses, which doth bear him best;
Between two boys, which hath the merriest eye;
I have perhaps some shallow spirit of judgement;
But in these nice sharp quillets of the law,
Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.

Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance:
The truth appears so naked on my side
That any purblind eye may find it out.

And on my side it is so well apparell'd,
So clear, so shining and so evident
That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye.

And, I pray thee now, tell me for
which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?

For them all together; which maintained so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them.

But for which of my
good parts did you first suffer love for me?

Suffer love! a good epithet! I do suffer love
indeed, for I love thee against my will.

In spite of your heart, I think; alas, poor heart!
If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours;
for I will never love that which my friend hates.

Love is your master, for he masters you:
And he that is so yoked by a fool,
Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise.
I may be love’s bitch, but at least I’m man enough to admit it.

Yes, indeed, you but mentioned it with every other breath.
I am fair to going deaf with your bitchyness.

The cat will mew and the dog will have his day.

We are too wise to woo peaceably.
Perhaps to bear baiting and oil wrestling.

[Enter Giles, Jesse and Oz]

Oz, I thought thou wast dead!

Werewolf

Rumors of my death were exaggerated

[Enter Xander of Oxnard]

And now, Scoobies, what's the news with you?
You told us of some battle; what is't, Buffy?
While my dear Anyanka disports with myself,
And myself, I would then bend in other ways,
The head is not more native to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
The spirit more inclined to the heavens
Than is the soul of Xander to thy cause.
What wouldst thou have, oh boss of us?

My drear lord,
Your leave and favour to fight in the coming day.

Hist, my Slayers, bestow yourself with speed:
The Mayor has to his ascension set,
Adam has returned his forced renewed,
Glory rages in search of her key,
And will with all expedience charge on us.
O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those potentials in England
That do no work to-day!

When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions

We should eat breakfast in the expectation that we will be having dinner in Hades.

I am indeed afraid, for so too the dark forces array.
And yet, as they myself devour,
Like a pip I shall in the great maw lodge,
Until with chocking gasp dark forces die.
This day is called the feast of Crispian:
She that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast her neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:'
Then will she strip her sleeve and show her scars.
She'll remember with advantages
What feats she did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in her mouth as household words
Buffy and Joan and Faith, the Slayers of vampires,
Willow and Giles, Angel and Spike soulful,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good woman teach young;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of family;
For he or she that sheds blood with me
Shall be my family; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle her condition:
And gentles in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold themselves cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

Now that indeed is the St. Crispin’s day speech.

But it is not St. Crispin’s Day.

No matter, but listen friends for I’ve an idea
To catch the conscience of a demon, a corrupt politician
And a god.

[Enter Buffybot]

Hey, you!

The hour of your arrival is well timed.
Come

[Exit all]