That fault of many faults a father's pride70
Proclaimed the last and worst—and, from that hour,
He disavowed, disherited, debased
A wayward son——tis a long tale—too long—
And I am heartsick of the heavy thought.
Josepha. Oh, I could weep—but that were little solace:
Yet tell the rest—or, if thou wilt not, say—
Yet say—why, through long years, from me withheld,
This fearful secret that hath gnawed thy soul?
Werner. Why? had it not been base to call on thee