“But she will be gained by some one else. And if that some one should be the very he whom, of all others, I could least bear—But I will not stay to rob myself of all your compassionate good-will, by shewing that where I have most injured I can least forgive. Good bye,—God bless you!” And with these words, he almost ran out of the room.
1840, Leigh Hunt, “XLVIII.—Twelfth Night. A Street Portrait. Shakespeare's Play, Recollections of a Twelfth Night.”, in The Seer; or, Common-places Refreshed. By Leigh Hunt. In Two Parts, volume I, London: Edward Moxon, Dover Street, →OCLC, page 32, column 1:
May a pleasant Twelfth Night have we passed in our time; and such future Twelfth Nights as may remain to us shall be pleasant, God and good-will permitting: for even if care should be round about them, we have no notion of missing these mountain-tops of rest and brightness, on which people may refresh themselves during the stormiest parts of life's voyage.
