Page:Lass of fair wone, or, The parson's daugter (sic) betrayed.pdf/6

 "Behold."—And then, with bitter sobs, She sunk upon the floor— “Make good the evil thou hast wrought; My injur'd name restore."

"Poor soul; I'll have thee hous'd and nurs'd; Thy terrors I lament. Stay here; we'll have some further talk— The old one shall repent."

"I have no time to rest and wait; That saves not my good name: If thou with honest soul hast sworn, O leave me not to shame;

But at the holy altar be Our union sanctified; Before the people and the priest Receive me for thy bride."

“Unequal matches must not blot The honours of my line; Art thou of wealth or rank for me, To harbour thee as mine?

What's fit and fair I'll do for thee; Shalt yet retain my love— Shalt wed my huntsman—and we'll then Our former transports prove."

"Thy wicked soul, hard-hearted man, May pangs in hell await! Sure, if not suited for thy bride, I was not for thy mate.