Gob. Is it?

Arb. As hell! By heaven, as false as hell!
My sister!—Is she dead? If it be so,
Speak boldly to me, for I am a man,
And dare not quarrel with Divinity;
And do not think to cozen me with this.
I see, you all are mute and stand amazed,
Fearful to answer me. It is too true;
A decreed instant cuts off every life,
For which to mourn is to repine. She died
A virgin though, more innocent than sleep,
As clear as her own eyes; and blessedness
Eternal waits upon her where she is.
I know she could not make a wish to change
Her state for new; and you shall see me bear
My crosses like a man. We all must die,
And she has taught us how.

Gob. Do not mistake,
And vex yourself for nothing; for her death
Is a long life off yet, I hope. ’Tis she;
And if my speech deserve not faith, lay death
Upon me, and my latest words shall force
A credit from you.

Arb. Which, good Gobrias?
That lady, dost thou mean?

Gob. That lady, sir:
She is your sister; and she is your sister
That loves you so; ’tis she for whom I weep,
To see you use her thus.

Arb. It cannot be.

Tigr. Pish! this is tedious:

[Apart.

Arb. Away!
No more of this! Here I pronounce him traitor,
The direct plotter of my death, that names
Or thinks her for my sister: ’Tis a lie,
The most malicious of the world, invented
To mad your king. He that will say so next,
Let him draw out his sword and sheathe it here;
It is a sin fully as pardonable.
She is no kin to me, nor shall she be:
If she were ever, I create her none.
And which of you can question this? My power
Is like the sea, that is to be obey’d,
And not disputed with. I have decreed her
As far from having part of blood with me,
As the naked Indians. Come and answer me,
He that is boldest now: Is that my sister?

Mar. Oh, this is fine!

Bes. No, marry, she is not, an’t please your majesty.
I never thought she was; she’s nothing like you.

Arb. No; ’tis true, she is not.

Mar. Thou shouldst be hang’d.

[To Bessus.

Pan. Sir, I will speak but once: By the same power
You make my blood a stranger unto yours,
You may command me dead; and so much love
A stranger may importune; pray you, do.
If this request appear too much to grant,
Adopt me of some other family,
By your unquestion’d word; else I shall live
Like sinful issues, that are left in streets
By their regardless mothers, and no name
Will be found for me.

Arb. I will hear no more.—
Why should there be such music in a voice,
And sin for me to hear it? All the world
May take delight in this; and ’tis damnation
For me to do so.—You are fair, and wise,
And virtuous, I think; and he is blessed
That is so near you as a brother is;
But you are naught to me but a disease;
Continual torment without hope of ease.
Such an ungodly sickness I have got,
That he, that undertakes my cure, must first
O’erthrow divinity, all moral laws,
And leave mankind as unconfin’d as beasts;
Allowing ’em to do all actions,
As freely as they drink when they desire.
Let me not hear you speak again; yet so
I shall but