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Mother. I rear'd him like a little playful kid, And ever by my side, where'er I went, He blithely trotted. And full soon, I ween, His little arms did strain their growing strength To bear my burden. Ay, and long before He had unto a stripling's height attain'd, He ever would my widow's cause maintain With all the steady boldness of a man. I was no widow then.

Sec. Cairl. Be comforted, good mother.

Mother. What say'st thou to me? know'st thou where he lies? If thou hast kindness in thee tell me truly; For dead or living still he is mine all, And let me have him.

Her boy is lying with the farther dead, Like a fell'd sapling; lead her from the field. (Exeunt Mother and Sec. Cairl.)

First Cairl. But who comes now, with such distracted gait, Tossing her snowy arms unto the wind, And gazing wildly o'er each mangled corse? Young Wom. No, no! thou art not here! thou art not here! Yet if thou be like these I shall not know thee. Oh! if they have so gash'd thee o'er with wounds And marr'd thy comely form! I'll not believe it.