Do not mistake, And vex your self for nothing; for her death Is a long life off, I hope: 'Tis she, And if my speech deserve not faith, lay death Upon me, and my latest words shall force A credit from you. _Arb_. Which, good Gobrias? that Lady dost thou mean? _Gob_. That Lady Sir, She is your Sister, and she is your Sister That loves you so, 'tis she for whom I weep, To see you use her thus. _Arb_. It cannot be. _Tigr_. Pish, this is tedious, I cannot hold, I must present my self, And yet the sight of my _Spaconia_ Touches me, as a sudden thunder-clap Does one that is about to sin. _Arb_. Away, No more of this; here I pronounce him Traytor, The direct plotter of my death, that names Or thinks her for my Sister, 'tis a lie, The most malicious of the world, invented To mad your King; he that will say so next, Let him draw out his sword and sheath it here, It is a sin fully as pardonable: She is no kin to me, nor shall she be; If she were ever, I create her none: And which of you can question this? My power Is like the Sea, that is to be obey'd, And not disputed with: I have decreed her As far from having part of blood with me, As the nak'd _indians_; come and answer me, He that is boldest now; is that my Sister? _Mar_. O this is fine. _Bes_. No marry, she is not, an't please your Majesty, I never thought she was, she's nothing like you. _Arb_. No 'tis true, she is not. _Mar_. Thou shou'dst be hang'd. _Pan_. Sir, I will speak but once; by the same power You make my blood a stranger unto yours, You may command me dead, and so much love A stranger may importune, pray you do; If this request appear too much to grant, Adopt me of some other Family, By your unquestion'd word; else I shall live Like sinfull issues that are left in streets By their regardless Mothers, and no name Will be found for me. _Arb_. I will hear no more, Why should there be such musick in a voyce, And sin for me to hear it? All the world May take delight in this, and 'tis damnation For me to do so: You are fair and wise And vertuous I think, and he is blest That is so near you as my brother is; But you are nought to me but a disease; Continual torment without hope of ease; Such an ungodly sickness I have got, That he that undertakes my cure, must first O'rethrow Divinity, all moral Laws, And leave mankind as unconfin'd as beasts, Allowing 'em to do all actions As freely as they drink when they desire. Let me not hear you speak again; yet see I shall but lang[u]ish for the want of that, The having which, would kill me: No man here Offer to speak for her; for I consider As much as you can say; I will not toil My body and my mind too, rest thou there, Here's one within will labour for you both. _Pan_. I would I were past speaking. _Gob_.