To the other side. If thou would’st give the advice
I need, I’d take it gladly. Listen, Burrus:
I have another secret; if I tell thee
Thou may’st befriend me. I will tell thee. Hark!
’Tis this: I fear my mother; I cannot sound
Her heartlessness; my terror shames the shows
And feeble efforts of my trust and love.
I have read her eyes—
Oh, there’s no tenderness, no pious scruple
Writ in my favour there; nothing but hate.