You alone are the possessor of my heart, and shall be the sharer of my title.

You shall be Countess of Rochester." "Could I believe you ?" she cried.
"You _may_ believe me," he answered.

"Do not blight my hopes and your own happiness a second time.

Your father is about to shut up his house for a twelvemonth, if the plague lasts so long.

This done, we shall meet no more, for access to you will be impossible.