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Tenth Day, Novel VII

[Voice: ]
[021]Since of him I was first enamour├Ęd,
Never hast thou, O Love, my fearful heart
With any such fond hope encourag├Ęd,
As e'er its message to him to impart,
To him, my lord, that me so sore bested
Holds: dying thus, 'twere grievous to depart:
Perchance, were he to know my cruel smart,
'Twould not displease him; might I but make bold
My soul to him to unfold,
And shew him all my woeful languishing.