You talk to me as having got a time fit for your purpose; but you
should be urg'd know I know you speak not what you think.
I would my heart were Stone, before my softness
Against my mother, a more troubled thought
No Virgin bears about; should I excuse
My Mothers fault, I should set light a life
In losing which, a brother and a King
Were taken from me, if I seek to save
That life so lov'd, I lose another life
That gave me being, I shall lose a Mother,
A word of such a sound in a childs ears
That it strikes reverence through it; may the will
Of heaven be done, and if one needs must fall,
Take a poor Virgins life to answer all.
But Gobrias let us talk, you know this fault
Is not in me as in another Mother.
Why, is not all that's past beyond your help?
Nay should you publish it before the world,
Think you 'twould be believ'd?
