As soon as possible from syncope’s fetter
Her senses had the sense to be recall’d,
“I’m better—that will do—indeed I’m better,”
She cried to each importunate besetter;
Meanwhile, escaping from the stir and smother,
The prudent parent seized the lover’s letter,
(Daughters should have no secrets with a Mother)
And read it thro’ from one end to the other.
From first to last she never skipp’d a word—
For young Lorenzo of all youths was one