Should notwithstanding join our lights together
And over-shine the earth as this the world.
Whate’er it bodes, henceforward will I bear
[40] Upon my target three fair-shining suns.
[♦] Rich. Nay, bear three daughters: by your leave I speak it.
[♦] You love the breeder better than the male.
Enter a Messenger.
But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell
Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue?
45 Mess. Ah, one that was a woful looker-on