The End

Ladies, reprove me not if I have loved: If I have felt a thousand burning flames, a thousand woes, a thousand gnawing cares: If I have wasted life in tears:
Alas! let not my name be scorned by you. If I have erred, the punishment is here; do not make keener its impetuous point. At any time — remember! — Love,
Without a Vulcan to excuse your ardour, without Adonis' beauty to accuse, may, if he will, make you more amorous,
With far less cause, than I, and with a wilder, stranger love. Beware lest ye become more miserable.
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