So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, / Which sucks two souls, and vapours both away,/ Turn thou ghost that way, and let me turn this, / And let our selves benight our happiest day.
I long to talk with some old lover's ghost, Who died before the god of love was born.
Yet call not this long life; but think that IAm, by being dead, immortal; can ghosts die?
Yet call not this long life; but think that I Am, by being dead, immortal; can ghosts die?