My girlish raiment, not my soul and self:
My fond profession of the Christian name.
Would he deprive me now of my last due,
Greatly deceives me one I thought my friend!
What will become of me if thou shouldst go,
Alone? That cruel hour would strike away
My second sentence, glad, desirable,
And lower me to the insupportable first.
Leave me not to the torment; rather share
The blessedness; be jealous even for me!