What conjuration, and what mighty magic,—
For such proceeding I am charg’d withal,—
I won his daughter.
...
Her father loved me; oft invited me;
Still question’d me the story of my life,
From year to year,—the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have pass’d.
I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it: