Phil. Sirha, you'll pull your desteny upon you
If you cease not the sooner.
Bust. Nay, I have done, my Liege, yet it grieves me that I should call that man Father, that should be so shameless, that being commanded to hold his tongue.
Phil. To th'Porters Lodge with him.
Bust. I thank your Grace, I have a friend there.
Phil. Speak woman, if any interruption meet thee more,
It shall be punish'd sharply.
Gill. Good my Liege, (I dare not)
Ask you the question why that old man weeps.
Phil. Who? Count Julio? I observ'd it not.
You hear the question Sir, will you give the cause?
Jul. Oh my Lord, it hardly will get passage,
It is a sorrow of that greatness grown,
'Less it dissolve in tears, and come by parcels.
Gill. I'll help you Sir, in the delivery,
And bring you forth a joy. You lost a daughter.
Jul. 'Twas that recounted thought brought forth these sorrows.