One minute past, and leave the last one out.
O, say a word will sponge it from the day,
Or all my future must turn back its face
And live with gazing on that minute's point.
Kent. It was not you, my heart. But say it were,
Should I pull down my heaven because a bird
Makes flying blot against it? 'Tis the doubts
That darkly flitting show love's constant sky
Forever radiant.
Mar. O me! O me!