CXXVI
The Losing of the Sense of a Dignified Reserve
She
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The door that is bolted with the bolt of modesty will yet yield to the axe of an overpowering love.
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Heartless is this thing called Love: for it oppresseth my heart even in the dead of night.
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I try indeed to shut my love up within my heart: but like a sneeze it breaketh out of itself without a warning.
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I was proud that I was correct and decorous in my behaviour: but alas! love rendeth every veil and showeth itself in public.
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The stern self-respect that refuseth to seek the beloved though he hath cruelly deserted, is a thing unknown to the lovesick fair.
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How thou lovest me, O Grief! Thou wantest me to follow after him who hath deserted me cruelly!
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If the beloved but favour us with his love, we at once forget all our reserve.
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It is the subdued speech of that false one skilled in many a wily art, that breaketh through all the defences of our womanly decorum.
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I wanted to go away in a huff: but I went and embraced him, for I saw that my heart had already joined him.
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Can they ever think of refusing to be reconciled, whose heart melteth even as fat in the fire?