sobbing sobbing

I agree. Very affecting. Ben Whishaw was superb as Keats and Abbie Cornish did a splendid job of evolving her character from a frivolous young flirt to a mature woman in love. If you google them you can read some of Keats' and Fanny's letters. Although Keats destroyed all of Fanny's letters to him (to keep them private, and was buried with her last letter to him still unopened) you can read Fanny's letter written to Keats' sister (who was also named Fanny) after his death. Listen to her anguish (as she emphasizes by repeating "me.")

'I am patient, resigned, very resigned. I know my Keats is happy, I know my Keats is happy, happier a thousand times than he could have been here, for Fanny, you do not, you never can know how much he has suffered. So much that I do believe, were it in my power I would not bring him back. All that grieves me now is that I was not with him, and so near it as I was.... He at least was never deceived about his complaint, though the Doctors were ignorant and unfeeling enough to send him to that wretched country to die, for it is now known that his recovery was impossible before he left us, and he might have died here with so many friends to soothe him and me me with him. All we have to console ourselves with is the great joy he felt that all his misfortunes were at an end.'

– I dare not fix my Mind upon Fanny, I have not dared to think of her. The only comfort I have had that way has been in thinking for hours together of having the knife she gave me put in a silver-case – the hair in a Locket – and the Pocket Book in a gold net – Show her this. I dare say no more – Yet you must not believe I am so ill as this Letter may look for if ever there was a person born without the faculty of hoping I am he. Severn is writing to Haslam, and I have just asked him to request Haslam to send you his account of my health. O what an account I could give you of the Bay of Naples if I could once more feel myself a Citizen of this world – I feel a Spirit in my Brain would lay it forth pleasantly – O what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints! My Love again to Fanny – tell Tootts I wish I could pitch her a basket of grapes – and tell Sam the fellows catch here with a line a little fish much like an anchovy, pull them up fast Remember me to Mrs and Mr Dilke – mention to Brown that I wrote him a letter at Portmouth which I did not send and am in doubt if he ever will see it.

my dear Mrs Brawne

yours sincerely and affectionate

John Keats –

Good bye Fanny! god bless you