Lecure. He had a Dukedom lately fall'n unto him,
By one, call'd Brother, who has left a Daughter.
Thier. The question is, of Heirs, not Lands.
Lecure. Heirs, yes, he shall have Heirs.
Thier. Begotten of his body, why look'st thou pale?
Thou canst not suffer in his want.
Lecure. Nor thou, I neither can nor will
Give farther knowledge to thee.
Thier. Thou must, I am the man my self,
Thy Sovereign, who must owe unto thy wisdom
In the concealing of my barren shame.
Lecure. Your Grace doth wrong your Stars; if this be yours,
You may have children.
Thier. Speak it again.
Lecure. You may have fruitful issue.
Thier. By whom? when? how?