Albanio

Ah, faithless nymph! and is it in this mode Thou keep'st thy plighted oath? Oh heavy load Of curst existence! oh false love, to cheer My drooping soul with hopes so insincere! Oh painful mode of martyrdom! oh death, Cool torturer, slow to claim my hated breath! You give me cause to call high Heaven unjust; Gape, empty earth, and repossess the dust Of this rebellious body, which debars The swift-winged soul from soaring to the stars! I, I will let it loose; let them that dare Resist—resist me?—of themselves take care, It much concerns them! Can I not fulfil My threats? die, go—here—there—where'er I will, Spirit or flesh?