Tel. My dearest mother.
Pen.O, my noble son,
’Tis joy to kiss thee. Do I see thee safe?
But O, thou hast tarried long! And was it kind
To make thy journey hence without a word?
If thou couldst but have seen my pain, the day
I found thee gone, thy pity had surely made
Thy duty, and held thee back. But now to see thee,
And as thou earnest those rude men abashed,—
O, I was proud!