All humor perished from my exhaled blood
Leaves me parched, while the spirit in my heart
Extinguished of an excess spleen, in my distress
Forces on me melancholy's (oh!) extreme effects.
Ha! Almost all around me, raging in fury,
Perished, broken, 'rept, weighed down with time,
I have care, I have spite, I have horror and fear –
Of your eyes, of my bad, of death, of life.
Ha! If in your hearts you have some idea
Of the desires you have etched upon my own
Have pity on one dead who hopes (and for your sakes) to die.
Or in order to rend my death an even better time,
Vow sighs that in my am'rous pains
I draw that thing which makes me languish still.
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