I know it, and I hope I need not farther
Win you to understand it.
I believe it.
But howsoever, I am sure I love him dearly:
So dearly, that if any thing I write
For my enlarging should beget his anger,
Heaven be a witness with me and my faith,
I had rather live intomb'd here.
You shall not feel a worse stroke than your grief,
I am sorry 'tis so sharp, I kiss your hand,
And this night will deliver this true story,
With this hand to your Brother.
Peace go with you, you are a good man.
My Spaconia, why are you ever sad thus?
Prethee discover not a way to sadness,
Nearer than I have in me, our two sorrows
Work like two eager Hawks, who shall get highest;
How shall I lessen thine? for mine I fear
Is easier known than cur'd.
Heaven comfort both,
And give you happy ends, however I
Fall in my stubborn fortunes.
