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_Gob_.
Our King I say was old, and this our Queene Desired to bring an heire; but yet her husband Shee thought was past it, and to be dishonest I thinke shee would not; if shee would have beene, The truth is, shee was watcht so narrowlie, And had so slender opportunitie, Shee hardly could have beene: But yet her cunning Found out this way; shee fain'd her selfe with child, And postes were sent in haste throughout the Land, And G.o.d was humbly thankt in every Church, That so had blest the Queen, and prayers were made For her safe going, and deliverie: Shee fain'd now to grow bigger, and perceiv'd This hope of issue made her feard, and brought A farre more large respect from everie man.
And saw her power increase, and was resolv'd, Since shee believ'd shee could not have't indeede; At least shee would be thought to have a child.
_Arb_.
Doe I not heare it well: nay, I will make No noise at all; but pray you to the point, Quicke as you can.
_Gob_.
Now when the time was full, Shee should be brought abed; I had a sonne Borne, which was you: This the Queene hearing of, Mov'd me to let her have you, and such reasons Shee shewed me, as shee knew would tie My secresie: shee sware you should be King; And to be short, I did deliver you Unto her, and pretended you were dead; And in mine owne house kept a Funerall, And had an emptie coffin put in earth: That night the Queene fain'd hastilie to labour, And by a paire of women of her owne, Which shee had charm'd, shee made the world believe Shee was deliver'd of you: you grew up As the Kings sonne, till you were six yeere olde; Then did the King die, and did leave to me Protection of the Realme; and contrarie To his owne expectation, left this Queene Truly with Childe indeed of the faire Princesse _Panthea_: Then shee could have torne her heire, And did alone to me yet durst not speake In publike; for shee knew shee should be found A Traytor, and her talke would have beene thought Madnesse or any thing rather then truth: This was the onely cause why shee did seeke To poyson you, and I to keepe you safe: And this the reason why I sought to kindle Some sparke of love in you to faire _Panthea_, That shee might get part of her right agen.
_Arb_.
And have you made an end now, is this all?
If not, I will be still till I am aged, Till all my heires are silver.
_Gob_.
This is all.
_Arb_.
And is it true say you Maddam?
_Ara_.
Yes, G.o.d knowes it is most true.
_Arb_.
_Panthea_ then is not my Sister.
_Gob_.
No.
_Arb_.
But can you prove this?
[_Gob_.]
If you will give consent: else who dare goe about it.
_Arb_.
Give consent?
Why I will have them all that know it rackt To get this from um: All that waites without Come in, what ere you be come in, and be Partakers of my Joy: O you are welcome.
_Ent. Mar: Bessus, and others_.
_Mardonius_ the best newes, nay, draw no neerer They all shall heare it: I am found no King.
_Mar_.
Is that so good newes?
_Art_.
Yes, the happiest newes that ere was heard.
_Mar_.
Indeed twere well for you, If you might be a little lesse obey'd.
_Arb_.
On, call the Queene.
_Mar_.
Why she is there.
_Arb_.
The Queene _Mardonius_, _Panthea_ is the Queene, And I am plaine _Arbaces_, goe some one, She is in _Gobrius_ house; since I saw you There are a thousand things delivered to me You little dreame of.
_Mar_.
So it should seeme: My Lord, What furi's this.
_Gob_.
Beleeve me tis no fury, All that he sayes is truth.
_Mar_.
Tis verie strange.
_Arb_.
Why doe you keepe your hats off Gentlemen, Is it to me? in good faith it must not be: I cannot now command you, but I pray you For the respect you bare me, when you tooke Me for your King, each man clap on his hat at my desire.
_Mar_.
We will: but you are not found So meane a man, but that you may be cover'd As well as we, may you not?
_Arb_.