“So be it!” With a sudden bitter scorn
She said: “You were his plaything, then! the food
Wherewith he dulled what appetite is born,
Of the gross kind, in men. His nobler mood
You knew not! How, shall I,—the fountain life
Of yonder children,—his embosomed wife
“Through all these years,—shall I, his Queen, for this
Sin-smitten harlot’s gage of an hour’s shame,
Misdoubt him?”—“Yes, I was his harlot,—yes,
God help me! and had worn the loathly name