Though my lord warn’d him such excess to shun;
Told him he pardon’d, though he blamed such rage,
And bade him think upon his state and age. 430
“Think! yes, my lord! but thinking drives me mad—
Give me my child!—Where is she to be had?
I’m old and poor, but I with both can feel,
And so shall he that could a daughter steal!
Think you, my lord, I can be so bereft
And feel no vengeance for the villain’s theft?
Old if I am, could I the robber meet