The Accursed Sovereign

Romeo’s Rinsing

I pine; the smell thou hast doth seep inside

the down and sheets in which my soul resides.

I launder those incarnadine bedside;

my self, survive, does change, must cope, abides.

O heart, me think you must abate thy beat!

Corréct as rule, this truth destruction brings;

Mellow thy passion, stop, and bring no heat!

Thy voice must rest, resign, again to sing.

Prescient, that Romeo, to still his heart.

Affect, the cruel support, do tempt to lead

astray and bring a man to rend apart

the whole attained in Romeo’s last deed.

We shan’t condemn his motivation true,

but still his death, prevent!  Not all must rue.


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