By such a silence, I’ll not leave to rumour
Another hour’s suspicion; but reveal
To you, my liege, yea, and to heaven and earth,
My most disastrous story.
King. I attend.
Blan. My father, though of lineage high and clear
As the sun’s self, was poor; and knowing well
How in this world honour fares ill alone,
Betroth’d the beauty of my earliest years
(The only dowry that I brought with me)