IV
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shall forget you presently, my dear,So make the most of this, your little day,Your little month, your little half a year,Ere I forget, or die, or move away,And we are done forever; by and byI shall forget you, as I said, but now,If you entreat me with your loveliest lieI will protest you with my favourite vow.I would indeed that love were longer-lived,And oaths were not so brittle as they are,But so it is, and nature has contrivedTo struggle on without a break thus far,--Whether or not we find what we are seekingIs idle, biologically speaking.
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