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What would'st thou, Garcio?

If but that hand beloved were to my lips Once more in parting press'd, methinks I'd go With lighten'd misery.—Alas! thou canst not! Thou canst not to such guilt

I can! I will! And Heaven in mercy pardon me this sin,

Have I not seen my last?—I've seen my last. Then wherefore wait I here?— The world before me lies,—a desert world In which a banish'd wand'rer I must be. (A pause.) Wander from hence, and leave her so defenceless In these unruly times! I cannot do it! I'll seem to go, yet hover near her still, Like spell-bound spirit near th' embalmed dust It can no more reanimate. Mine eyes May see her distant form, mine ears may hear Her sweet voice through the air, while she believes Kingdoms or seas divide us.