Lover's Irresolution

My heart is mad:—why not my brain? Oh, witch!
That flaming Hymen now would quench his torch,
Or Hate, betwixt thy fool and thee, would set
Double divorce for ever! Shall I go?
I cannot quit her: but,—like men who mock
The voice of thunder, tarry until—I die!
Shall I not go!—I will not; though the tongues
Of chiding virtue rail me strait to stone.
Here will I stand,—a statue, fixed and firm,
Before the fiery altar of my love,
Both worshipper and martyr.
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