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98

Would thou had'st lifted up my infant form And dash'd it on the stones! I had not liv'd— I had not lived to curse thee for thy pains.

And dost thou curse me then?

O no! I do not! I did not curse thee, mother: was it so?

No, no, thou didst not: yet I have deserv'd— I was a mother selfish in my fondness; And with indulgence, senseless and extreme, Blasted the goodly promise of thy youth.

Hark! there's a noise again! had thou more servants Coming with errands to thee?—We're discover'd!

Be not so soon alarm'd: it is impossible.

Is there an inner chamber? lead me there; (Pointing to a door.) Thine absence haply From thine own house, suspicion may create: