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that would fain Fidessa's image see,

My face of force may be his looking-glass.

There is she portrayed and her cruelty,

Which as a wonder through the world must pass.

But were I dead, she would not be betrayed;

It's I, that 'gainst my will, shall make it known.

Her cruelty by me must be bewrayed,

Or I must hide my head and live alone.

I'll pluck my silver hairs from out my head,

And wash away the wrinkles of my face;

Closely immured I'll live as I were dead,

Before she suffer but the least disgrace.

How can I hide that is already known?

I have been seen and have no face but one.