Read it through once

Which may if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty, And still rest thine. The storm begins: poor wretch, That for thy mother’s fault art thus expos’d To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot, But my heart bleeds, and most accurs’d am I To be by oath enjoin’d to this. Farewell! The day frowns more and more. Thou’rt like to have A lullaby too rough. I never saw The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour! Well may I get aboard! This is the chase: I am gone for ever.