For herein Fortune shows herself more kind Than is her custom. It is
still her use To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, To view with
hollow eye and wrinkled brow An age of poverty, from which ling'ring
penance Of such misery doth she cut me off. Commend me to your
honourable wife. Tell her the process of Antonio's end. Say how I loved
you; speak me fair in death. And when the tale is told, bid her be judge
Whether Bassanio had not once a love.
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Claire 10069