We know your father was indignant there:
He hated Miller. Say! if Charles should press
For explanation, what would you confess?
You cannot there on his commands presume;
Besides, you fainted in a public room;
There own’d your flame, and, like heroic maid,
The sovereign impulse of your will obey’d. 310
What, to your thinking, was the world’s disdain?
You could retort its insolence again.
Your boundless passion boldly you avow’d,