1    Now my charms are all o'erthrown,
2    And what strength I have's mine own,
3    Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,
4    I must be here confined by you,
5    Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
6    Since I have my dukedom got
7    And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell
8    In this bare island by your spell;
9    But release me from my bands
10   With the help of your good hands:
11   Gentle breath of yours my sails
12   Must fill, or else my project fails,
13   Which was to please. Now I want
14   Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,
15   And my ending is despair,
16   Unless I be relieved by prayer,
17   Which pierces so that it assaults
18   Mercy itself and frees all faults.
19   As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
20   Let your indulgence set me free.