Hither, I say; why! what have you to fear?
You see I'm gentle—Come, you trifler, come;
200
My God! she trembles! Idiot, leave the room!
Madam! your children hate me; I suppose
They know their cue; you make them all my foes;
I've not a friend in all the world—not one:
I'd be a bankrupt sooner; nay, 'tis done;
In every better hope of life I fail;
You're all tormentors, and my house a jail;