OED. Sister branches too,
Nursed at the self-same place with him from whom they grew.
CH. O horror!
OED. Ay, not one, ten thousand charged me then!
CH. O sorrow!
OED. Never done, an ever-sounding strain.
CH. O crime!
OED. By me ne'er wrought.
CH. But how?
OED. The guerdon fell.
Would I had earned it not from those I served too well.