Perish for lack of instinct: the tenderness of sex
You have thought of; her innocence, the snares of a merciless world
For the unprotected, and then this picture you contrast
With the comfortable, gentéel hóme the scene presents.
You feel for the parents then—ay, tho’ some ridicule
Be fastened upon them; ’tis by such touches of flesh and blood
The life comes home to your heart, and while you are made to smile,
You weep. You have paid for the tear, or if your false shame
Forbids you to shew your feeling, you’ve bought a lump in the throat.
You praise the play, because ’tis a tender situation.