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Rh A privilege never to see me more.

And from thy hated presence part I so:

See me no more, whether he be dead or no.

There is no following her in this fierce vein:

Here therefore for a while I will remain.

So sorrow’s heaviness doth heavier grow

For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe;

Which now in some slight measure it will pay,

If for his tender here I make some stay.

What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite

And laid the love-juice on some true-love’s sight:

Of thy misprision must perforce ensue

Some true love turn’d and not a false turn’d true.

Then fate o’er-rules, that, one man holding troth,

A million fail, confounding oath on oath.

About the wood go swifter than the wind,

And Helena of Athens look thou find:

All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer,

With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear: