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"I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in amore comfortable sort: if my son were my husband, Ishould freelier rejoice in that absence wherein hewon honour than in the embracements of his bed wherehe would show most love. When yet he was buttender-bodied and the only son of my womb, whenyouth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, whenfor a day of kings' entreaties a mother should notsell him an hour from her beholding, I, consideringhow honour would become such a person. that it wasno better than picture-like to hang by the wall, ifrenown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seekdanger where he was like to find fame. To a cruelwar I sent him; from whence he returned, his browsbound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang notmore in joy at first hearing he was a man-childthan now in first seeing he had proved himself aman."

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