So earnestly she asked me for that boon.
Guenevere
It was a token to the world you loved her.
You had no thought of me, never a thought.
Launcelot
Rack me no more! Day and night, night and day,
The image of your eyes and voice and hair
Burns me; you are twisted in my heart strings, I have sought
To cut love from my bosom, but I cannot,
I cannot; and because it saps, divides,