OED. Oh, strangers, I have borne an all-too-willing brand,I 2
Yet not of mine own choice.
CH. Whence? We would understand.
OED. Nought knowing of the curse she fastened on my head
Thebè in evil bands bound me.
CH. Thy mother’s bed,
Say, didst thou fill? mine ear still echoes to the noise.
OED. ’Tis death to me to hear, but, these, mine only joys,
Friends, are my curse.
CH. O Heaven!
OED. The travail of one womb
Hath gendered all you see, one mother, one dark doom.
CH. How? Are they both thy race, and—II 1
OED. Sister branches too,
Nursed at the self-same place with him from whom they grew.
CH. O horror!