"O Isabella, I can half perceive
"That I may speak my grief into thine ear;
"If thou didst ever anything believe,
"Believe how I love thee, believe how near
"My soul is to its doom: I would not grieve
"Thy hand by unwelcome pressing, would not fear
"Thine eyes by gazing; but I cannot live
"Another night, and not my passion shrive.
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