J.: Saints do not move, though grant for prayer´s sake.
R.: Then move not while my prayer´s effect I take.
He kiss her.
R.: Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purged.
J.: Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
R.: Sin from my lips? O, trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.
He kiss her.
Yea, noise? Then I´ll be brief. O happy dagger!
This is thy sheath; there rust; and let me die.
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