_Gob_.
Know you kill your Father.
_Arb_.
How?
_Gob_.
You kill your Father.
_Arb_.
My Father? though I know it for a lie
Made out of feare to save thy stained life:
The verie reverence of the word comes crosse me,
And ties mine arme downe.
_Gob_.
I will tell you that shall heighten you againe, I am thy
Father, I charge thee heare me.
_Arb_.
If it should be so,
As tis most false, and that I should be found
A bastard issue, the dispised fruite
Of lawlesse lust, I should no more admire
All my wilde passions: but another truth
Shall be wrung from thee: If I could come by
The spirit of paine, it should be powr'd on thee,
Till thou allowest thy selfe more full of lies
Then he that teaches thee.
_Enter Arane_.
_Arane_.
Turne thee about,
I come to speake to thee thou wicked man,
Heare me thou Tyrant.
_Arb_.
I will turne to thee,
Heare me thou Strumpet: I have blotted out
The name of mother, as thou hast thy shame.
_Ara_.
My shame, thou hast lesse shame then anything:
Why dost thou keepe my daughter in a prison?
Why dost thou call her Sister, and doe this?
_Arb_.
Cease thou strange impudence, and answere quickly,
If thou contemn'st me, this will aske an answere,
And have it.
_Ara_.
Helpe me gentle _Gobrius_.
_Arb_.
Guilt dare not helpe guilt, though they grow together
In doing ill, yet at the punishment
They sever, and each flies the noyse of other,
Thinke not of helpe, answere.
_Ara_.