Wert thou? Nay more, I think thou meant'st it. _Gob_. Sir, I hate to lie, as I love Heaven and honesty, I did, it was my meaning. _Arb_. Be thine own sad judge, a further condemnation will not need, prepare thy self to dy. _Gob_. Why Sir to dy? _Arb_. Why shouldst thou live? was ever yet offender so impudent, that had a thought of Mercy after confession of a crime like this? get out I cannot where thou hurl'st me in, but I can take revenge, that's all the sweetness left for me. _Gob_. Now is the time, hear me but speak. _Arb_. No, yet I will be far more mercifull than thou wert to me; thou didst steal into me and never gav'st me warning: so much time as I give thee now, had prevented thee for ever. Notwithstanding all thy sins, if thou hast hope, that there is yet a prayer to save thee, turn and speak it to thy self. _Gob_. Sir, you shall know your sins before you do'em, if you kill me. _Arb_. I will not stay then. _Gob_. Know you kill your Father. _Arb_. How? _Gob_. You kill your Father. _Arb_. My Father? though I know't for a lie, made out of fear to save thy stained life; the very reverence of the word comes cross me, and ties mine arm down. _Gob_. I will tell you that shall heighten you again, I am thy Father, I charge thee hear me. _Arb_. If it should be so, as 'tis most false, and that I should be found a Bastard issue, the despised fruit of lawless lust, I should no more admire all my wild passions: but another truth shall be wrung from thee: if I could come by the Spirit of pain, it should be poured on thee, till thou allow'st thy self more full of lies than he that teaches thee. _Enter_ Arane. _Ara_. Turn thee about, I come to speak to thee thou wicked man, hear me thou tyrant. _Arb_. I will turn to thee, hear me thou Strumpet; I have blotted out the name of Mother, as thou hast thy shame. _Ara_. My shame! thou hast less shame than any thing; why dost thou keep my Daughter in a prison? why dost thou call her Sister, and do this? _Arb_. Cease thy strange impudence, and answer quickly if thou contemnest me, this will ask an answer, and have it. _Ara_. Help me Gentle _Gobrias_. _Arb_. Guilt [dare] not help guilt though they grow together in doing ill, yet at the [punishment] they sever, and each flies the noise of other, think not of help, answer. _Ara_. I will, to what? _Arb_. To such a thing, as if it be a truth think what a creature thou hast made thy self, that didst not shame to do, what I must blush only to ask thee: tell me who I am, whose son I am without all circumstance, be thou as hasty as my Sword will be if thou refusest. _Ara_. Why, you are his son. _Arb_. His Son? swear, swear, thou worse than woman damn'd. _Ara_. By all that's good you are. _Arb_.