She bore within her bosom such a witness
As doubly prey’d upon her life. Enough;
She was my sister, why reproach her then,
And to no purpose now the deed was done?
Only I wonder’d at mysterious Heaven,
Which her misfortune made to double mine,
Who had been pining for the very boon
That was her shame and sorrow; till at last,
Out of the tangle of this double grief
I drew a thread to extricate us both,