Thier. Whther did nature start, when you conceiv'd?
A birth so unlike woman? say, what part
Did not consent to make a son of him,
Reserv'd it self within you to his ruine.
Brun. Ha, ha, a son of mine! doe not dissever
Thy fathers dust, shaking his quiet urn,
To which [thy] breath would send so foul an issue.
My Son, thy Brother?
Thier. Was not Theodoret my brother, or is thy tongue
Confederate with thy heart, to speak and do
Only things monstrous?
Brun. Hear me and thou shalt make thine own belief,
Thy, still with sorrow mention'd, father liv'd
Three careful years, in hope of wished heirs,
When I conceiv'd, being from his jealous fear
Injoyn'd to quiet home, one fatal day:
Transported with my pleasure to the chase,
I forc'd command, and in pursuit of game
Fell from my horse, lost both my child and hopes.
Despair which only in his love saw life
Worthy of being, from a Gard'ners Arms
Snatcht this unlucky brat, and call'd it mine,
When the next year repaid my loss with thee:
But in thy wrongs preserv'd my misery,
Which that I might diminish, though not end,
My sighs, and wet eies from thy Fathers Will,
Bequeath this largest part of his Dominions
Of France unto thee, and only left
Austracia unto that changling, whose life affords
Too much of ill 'gainst me to prove my words,
And call him stranger.
Thier. Come, doe not weep, I must, nay do believe you.
And in my fathers satisfaction count it
Merit, not wrong, or loss:
Brun. You doe but flatter, there's anger yet flames
In your eyes.
Thier. See, I will quench it, and confess that you
Have suffer'd double travel for me.
Brun. You will not fire the house then?
Thier. Rather reward the author who gave cause
Of knowing such a secret, my oath and duty
Shall be assurance on't.
Brun. Protaldye, rise good faithful servant, heaven knows
How hardly he was drawn to this attempt.