And you will not go back on it—will you?
My own Angelina, say "No!"
We're parted, but sympathy's fetter
Unites us, I'm sure of it, still.
I read your last laughable letter,
And see you are steering with skill.
True Love is all fiddlededee, love,
Full coffers count only, below.
If he's not what your husband should be, Love,
My own Angelina, say "No!"