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| XVII. |
 | The Poetical Works of Robert Browning |  |
IV.
Next morn 't was “Reason, rate,Rave, sister, on till doomsday! Sure as fate,
I wed that woman—what a woman is
Now that I know, who never knew till this!”
So swore the duke. “I wed her: once again—
Rave, rate, and reason—spend your breath in vain!
| The Poetical Works of Robert Browning | |