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Me doubt possessd, and Speak, it whisperd me, Speak, speak unto thy lady, that she quench Thy thirst with drops of sweetness. Yet blank awe, Which lords it oer me, even at the sound Of Beatrices name, did bow me down As one in slumber held. Not long that mood Beatrice sufferd. she, with such a smile, As might have made one blest amid the flames, Beaming upon me, thus her words began.