Casts shade between us, not a lack in me.
Kent. If I should speak then oaths were straws in fire.
Mar. O, no, I would not have thee speak. That's past.
'Tis our misfortune that we are divided
In this most pitchy hour that in itself
Were nothing if our hearts could meet and melt
In unreserved touch. In every life
There comes a watch the soul must keep alone.
The hour has struck for thine. And mine I feel
Is not so far away. Now, now I go,