Doth tell of broken faith, and trampled hopes,
And injured goodness! They have baneful influence
They made me what I am!
Foscarini.
Mine own Teresa!
Let me so call you now—blame not yourself
For what hath severed us. I blame you not.
Heaven doth attest my truth, I hold you now,
As pure, as guiltless of all wrong—as when
I first believed you.