That trod the brother’s bed.[f27] Speak! do I hit
The mark, a marksman true? or do I beat
Your doors, a babbling beggar prophesying
False dooms for hire? Be ye my witnesses,
And with an oath avouch, how well I know
The hoary sins that hang upon these walls.
Chorus.
Would oaths make whole our ills, though I should wedge them
As stark as ice?[n80] But I do marvel much
That thou, a stranger born, from distant seas,