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Rh In those days you did everything I bid!…

Roxane, in her short frock, was Madeleine…

Was I fair then?

You were not ill to see!

Ofttimes, with hands all bloody from a fall, You'd run to me! Then—aping mother-ways— I, in a voice would-be severe, would chide,—

'What is this scratch, again, that I see here?'

Oh! 'tis too much! What's this?

No, let me see! At your age, fie!—Where did you get that scratch?

I got it—playing at the Porte de Nesle.

Give here!