I bethought myself to go upstairs and see how the dying woman sped, who lay there almost unheeded: the very servants paid her but a remittent attention: the hired nurse, being little looked after, would slip out of the room whenever she could.

I on th' other ſide / Us'd no ambition to commend my deeds, […]

Nor diamonds inwreathed with the braids of her hair.

[T]he private family qua mode of social reproduction still, frankly, sucks. It genders, nationalizes and races us. It norms us for productive work.