F. ’Twould make us brothers, Richard.
150
R. Brothers?—how?
F. Having your secret, I must give you mine.
I also love a lady in the court,
Secretly too, as you, though with success;
And she is foster-sister to your lady.
The prudery with which the Countess rules
Drave us to hide our liking at the first;
And as that grew, deception still kept pace,