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I don't mind it at all; the water will do me no harm.

Thou shalt not wet thy feet, my dear child, when a father's arms are here, so able and so happy to carry thee.

Enter by the mouth of the cave, bearing  in his arms, whom he sets down by some loose rocks near the front of the Stage.

Set me down, my dear father; I am heavy.

I could carry thee to the world's end, my own dear girl. O that thou wert again a baby, and mine arms lock'd round thee as of yore!

I remember it, father.

Dost thou, sweet one? Ah, ah! thee in my arms, and she whom I loved by my side, and thy pretty worldless lips cooing to us by turns—an utterance that made all words contemptible! Alas, alas! such days, and many bright succeeding days have been and are gone. The fatal passion of a few short moments has made