and leave her shieldless and bare as flesh set forth on a board.
My life she prays for, and I from mere love pray for her death—
yea death, the gentlest and kindest guest to visit a maid.
I fear an uncle’s rebuke, a brother’s harshness for her;
my chiefest end was to spare her heart the grief of a word.
Once more, the following lines do not breathe the spirit of infanticide:—
Fortune has brought me down (her wonted way)
from station great and high to low estate;
Fortune has rent away my plenteous store:
of all my wealth, honour alone is left.