Cleo. I guess the Grief the Parents must sustain.
Dor. It almost caus’d their Deaths; nor did kind Heaven
Supply them with another till long after,
Unhappy this was born:
Which just her Father liv’d to see, and dy’d. [Weeps.
Then she was Daughter, Son and Husband too,
To her afflicted Mother: But as I told you, Madam, I was then in my Prime—
Clar. Now, Madam, judge what her Despair must be,
Who is depriv’d of all her Joys in me. [Weeps.
Cleo. Francisca, see who it is that knocks so hastily. [One knocks.