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And will conduct thee to it. Come, dear Nurse! Greet thine old master in his time of sorrow, And take of him good care.

Yea, that I will; for unto me and mine He hath been ever kind and bountiful. O woe the day! that I should have occasion To do him such a service!

Ay, Nurse; there be sad changes in men's fortunes. The day when first I saw thee to thy breast Lay this dear child, a little toothless infant, Whilst o'er ye both bent with fond beaming eyes The best and fairest lady of the land, For so she was,—that was indeed a day— A day of brightness. Ah! how different From this most dismal hour!

She was a noble lady, fair and gentle! This wicked world did not deserve to hold her, And so her time was short. And for her babe— My babe;—I call'd her mine, and still will call her,— A very cherub, peeping from the clouds, As our fair pictures show them, is less beautiful Than she half-covered with her cradle-clothes,