Page:Agamemnon (1877) Browning.djvu/142

126 She lies,—to him, a sweetheart: me she brought to

My bed's by-nicety, the whet of dalliance.

Alas, that some

Fate would come

Upon us in quickness—

Neither much sickness

Neither bed-keeping—

And bear unended sleeping,

Now that subdued

Is our keeper, the kindest of mood!

Having borne, for a woman's sake, much strife—

By a woman he withered from life!

Ah me!