To die! and unrevenged!' she said, 'Yet let me die. - John Conington

This suffering will yield us yet
A pleasant tale to tell.

Mere grace is not enough: a play should thrill
The hearer's soul, and move it at its will.

From me you fly! Ah! let me crave,
By these poor tears, that hand you gave—
Since, parting with my woman's pride,
My madness leaves me nought beside—
By that our wedlock, by the rite
Which, but begun, could yet unite,
If e'er my kindness held you bound,
If e'er in my joy you found,
Look on this falling house, and still,
If prayer can touch you, change your will.