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but saying o' er what i said before: my child is yet a stranger in the world she hath not seen change in fourteen years; let two more summers wither in their pride ere we may think her ripe to be bride.
I though for the best.
arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death! Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! ... Thus with a kiss I die
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