With this hard speech, our mother in affright,
Round set with doubts, not knowing when or where,
She safely might conuey me from their sight:
In silence stands, her lookes bewrayes pale feare,
Which she would vtter, yet doth oft forbeare,
Till taking me by th’hand, sighes forcing teares,
And teares sad words, no longer she forbeares.
37.
“Behold,” said she, “I to your trust commit
This noble impe, whom with the prince his brother,