Why dost thou wound and break my heart, As if we should for ever part? Hast thou not heard an oath from me, After a day, or two, or three, I would come back and live with thee? Take, if thou dost distrust that vow, This second protestation now:— Upon thy cheek that spangled tear, Which sits as dew of roses there, That tear shall scarce be dried before I'll kiss the threshold of thy door; Then weep not, Sweet, but thus much know,— I'm half returned before I go.
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