Answer:
How soon, my Dear, death may my steps attend.
How soon't may be thy lot to lose thy friend,
<u>We both are ignorant</u>, yet love bids me
These farewell lines to recommend to thee,
That when that <u>knot's untied that made us one</u>,
I may seem thine, who in effect am none.
And if I see not half my days that's due,
What nature would, <u>God grant to yours and you</u>;
The many faults that well you know