And what strenght I have's mine own, -
Which is most faint: now 'tis true,
I must be here confined by you,
Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got,
And pardon 'd the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island by your spell;
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands.
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;
And my ending is despair
Unless I be relieved by prayer;
Which pierces so, that it assaults
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon 'd be,
Let your indulgence set me free.
William Shakespeare, The Tempest
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