_Gob_.
Know you kill your Father.
_Arb_.
How?
_Gob_.
You kill your Father.
_Arb_.
My Father? though I know't for a lie, made out of fear to save
thy stained life; the very reverence of the word comes cross me,
and ties mine arm down.
_Gob_.
I will tell you that shall heighten you again, I am thy Father, I
charge thee hear me.
_Arb_.
If it should be so, as 'tis most false, and that I should be
found a Bastard issue, the despised fruit of lawless lust, I
should no more admire all my wild passions: but another truth
shall be wrung from thee: if I could come by the Spirit of pain,
it should be poured on thee, till thou allow'st thy self more
full of lies than he that teaches thee.
_Enter_ Arane.
_Ara_.
Turn thee about, I come to speak to thee thou wicked man, hear me
thou tyrant.
_Arb_.
I will turn to thee, hear me thou Strumpet; I have blotted out
the name of Mother, as thou hast thy shame.
_Ara_.
My shame! thou hast less shame than any thing; why dost thou keep
my Daughter in a prison? why dost thou call her Sister, and do
this?
_Arb_.
Cease thy strange impudence, and answer quickly if thou
contemnest me, this will ask an answer, and have it.
_Ara_.
Help me Gentle _Gobrias_.
_Arb_.
Guilt [dare] not help guilt though they grow together in doing
ill, yet at the [punishment] they sever, and each flies the noise
of other, think not of help, answer.
_Ara_.