XVIII

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XVIII

“Ah! why wilt thou affright a feeble soul?

A poor, weak, palsy-stricken, church-yard thing,

Whose passing-bell may ere the midnight toll;

Whose prayers for thee, each morn and evening,

Were never miss’d.” Thus plaining, doth she bring

A gentler speech from burning Porphyro;

So woeful, and of such deep sorrowing,

That Angela gives promise she will do

Whatever he shall wish, betide her weal or woe.