Chatterton monologue — Chatterton

'Twas not for money, or you should have paid A thousand crowns. You will remember, sir, That when a pupil at the Bluecoat School, Poor, lonely, friendless, with a thirst for lore, I came to ask of you the loan of books, You mocked my poverty, jeered at my verse, And sneering bade me learn the cobbler's trade. I knew your passion was for gold and birth; And gold you had. In bitter sport I wrote your pedigree, scarce thinking it Would be received with credence; yet it was. I should have told you then, but you did swell And treat me with disdain. I tell you now That, since you are the father of this girl, I'd give my life to undo what is done; Yet, were you not her father, I do swear I'd give my life to do it o'er again. I made a fool of gold, for it had made A fool of me so long.