Cry on, young lady—brides are bound to cry.
You cry at marrying me? How much more cause
You’d have to cry if it were broken off!”
These were my thoughts—I kept them to myself,
For, at that age, I had not learnt to speak.
Hilde. Your memory is singularly good.
Hilar. Do you remember, too, the wedding feast—
Rolls steeped in milk, and other softened food,
Fit for our undeveloped little gums?
And talk of drink, I never shall forget,