The bringing in of Leonor the bastard
Son to your murther'd brother, her Physitian
By this time is attacht to that damn'd devil.
Mess. 'Tis like he will be so, for e'er we came
Fearing an equal justice for his mischiefs,
He drencht himself.
Brun. He did like one of mine then.
Thier. Must I still see these miseries, no night
To hide me from their horrors, that Protaldy
See justice fall upon.
Brun. Now I could sleep too.
Enter Ordella.
Mart. I'll give you yet more Poppy, bring the Lady
And heaven in her embraces; gives him quiet,
Madam, unveil yourself.
Ordel. I do forgive you,
And though you sought my bloud, yet I'll pray for you.
Brun. Art thou alive?
Mart. Now could you sleep?