Agr. Eh! Why, I think my son’s ingratitude
Is nought to this; he had the right to expect
My favours: but for you, whom I chose out
And set above the rest because I chose,
Made you my friends because I chose, for you
There is no excuse. Had ye no motive, yet
To see a woman in distress like mine,
Wronged by her son, and injured as no woman
Has ever been, should rouse a manly spirit,
Ay, make a coward burn to do me right.