The. My mother first.
Oc. Didst note her frown?
What has so changed her, sweet?
The. I find her troubled late, as she would soothe
Her breast above some panting mystery.
Oc. She must disclose the cause, and show if 't has
An honest face. I'll have no mincing doubts
And ghostly secrets peering on our love.
The. She is our gentle mother. Wait, my heart!
Oc. Phillistus is too often at her ear.