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Of but one precious pearl, most dearly prized, Prized more than life, yet would have given it to thee. I needs must weep: ev'n for thyself I weep.

Weep not, my kind Sulpicius! I will leave thee, Albeit the pearl thou would'st bestow upon me Is, in my estimation, dearer far Than life, or power, or fame, or earthly thing. When these fierce times are past, thou wilt, perhaps, Think of me with regard, but not with pity, How fell soe'er my earthly end hath been, For I shall then be blest. And thou, dear Portia, Wilt thou remember me? That thought, alas! Dissolves my soul in weakness.— O, to be spared, if it were possible, This stroke of agony! Is it not possible, That I might yet—Almighty God forgive me! Weak thoughts will lurk in the devoted heart, But not be cherish'd there. I may not offer Aught short of all to thee. Farewell, farewell! sweet Portia, fare thee well!

Retain me not: I am a Parthian now. My strength is in retreat. [Exit.