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 If 'tis thy will I die, my sweetest love, Let me not die of silence! Is it fear That seals those coral lips?

He dreams, or knows not yet that Julia's dead.

If in the silent sorrow of thine heart Thou but discoursest with thine eyes, alas! I see them not.

How great will be the pressure of his grief To know the truth? I dare not tell him now 'Tis but Elena by his side.

Romeo, my Romeo, love, and honoured lord, I am betrayed—undone!

Sweet echo, pitying, soothes mine anxious ear. But how hear I this, when all in vain I've listened for the softest word? Alas! The zephyrs have been sporting with my pain.