Music+of+Love

media type="youtube" key="lTqOu1N8qxw" height="25" width="30" __theMoor__ and __TruLuv__ are listening to //Locket Theme - Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End// __theMoor__ says: She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me, And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story. And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake: She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd, And I loved her that she did pity them.
 * __To Hold Love__**

__TruLuv__ says: My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty: To you I am bound for life and education; My life and education both do learn me How to respect you; you are the lord of duty; I am hitherto your daughter: but here's my husband, And so much duty as my mother show'd To you, preferring you before her father, So much I challenge that I may profess Due to the Moor my lord.

__theMoor__ says: She's gone. I am abused; and my relief Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage,

__TruLuv__ says: You may, indeed, say so; For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.

__theMoor__ says: A liberal hand: the hearts of old gave hands; But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.

__TruLuv__ says: By heaven, you do me wrong.

__theMoor__ says: Are you not a strumpet?

__TruLuv__ says: No, as I am a Christian: If to preserve this vessel for my lord From any other foul unlawful touch Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.

__theMoor__ says: I cry you mercy, then: I took you for that cunning whore of Venice That married with Othello.

__TruLuv__ says: I cannot weep; nor answer have I none, But what should go by water. Prithee, tonight Lay on my bed my wedding sheets: remember; And call thy husband hither.

__theMoor__ says: Ah balmy breath, that dost almost persuade Justice to break her sword! One more, one more. Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And love thee after. One more, and this the last: So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, But they are cruel tears: this sorrow's heavenly; It strikes where it doth love. She wakes.

__TruLuv__ says: And have you mercy too! I never did Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio But with such general warranty of heaven As I might love: I never gave him token.

__theMoor__ says: What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead? I that am cruel am yet merciful; I would not have thee linger in thy pain: So, so.

__TruLuv__ says: Nobody; I myself. Farewell Commend me to my kind lord: O, farewell!

__theMoor__ says: Where should Othello go? Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench! Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt, This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl! Even like thy chastity. O cursed slave! Whip me, ye devils, From the possession of this heavenly sight! Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur! Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead!

__theMoor__ says: I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee: no way but this; Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.