O gracious lady,
Since I received command to do this business I have not slept one wink. If you asked it of me, I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy blood, make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, thy knotted and combined locks to part and each particular hair to stand on end, like quills upon the fretful porcupine.
At thy instance I ran from pillar to post, crossed channel and ocean wide, and was none the wiser for my travails. Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season, when in the why and the wherefore is neither rhyme nor reason? But love is blind and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that themselves commit. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you could wrangle, and I would call it fair play.
Can one desire too much of a good thing? I would see thee again, though we have seen better days. Put out thy hands, and light me a beacon for home. Send me a sign to come, and not one word more. I cannot bear this parting, so rich in sorrow, so protracted, so delicate, so poor.
The bell hath struck twelve; the minute draws on. Now, hot blooded Gods assist me! I yearn for the haven of thy heart. If thy wits run the wild goose chase, I am done, but thou hast more wits than I, and can see this through to its foregone conclusion. Though it be but a dream, remember in our shipwrecked days there was an hour when eve was left to us, and hushed we sat as lovers to whom time whispered.
Call me home, my lady, that we two can be as one.