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We begged our bread devoid of home,

Our goods not worth a hackle-comb.

No husband had I ever wed,

But hither came as I have said,

Torn, worn, and scratched with many a briar.

Most earnestly do I desire,

Fair son, that you should learn of me

Wisely to walk and warily.

And thus my sad experience

May to your youth be shield and fence.

For when your Rose is withered quite,

And raven locks exchanged for white,

Then will you lack the gifts that snow

On every side around you now.

Thus the Duenna preached and prosed,

To which Fair-Welcome nought opposed,

But gladly gave the sermon ear,

Feeling of her less dread and fear

Than he had done in time gone by;

For now it seemed, assuredly,

That but for Jealousy’s ill-will

And those three porters who fulfil

Her hestings (three at least alive

Who still with mad endeavour strive

To hold the fort), but light it were

To take the stronghold unaware,

But yet he doubts that scarce can be.

While it is watched so studiously.