Enter Arbaces and Gobrias.
Not very ill.
Something unkindly she does take it Sir to have
Her Husband chosen to her hands.
Why Gobrias let her, I must have her know, my will and not her
own must govern her: what will she marry with some slave at home?
O she is far from any stubbornness, you much mistake her, and no
doubt will like where you would have her, but when you behold
her, you will be loth to part with such a jewel.
To part with her? why Gobrias, art thou mad? she is my Sister.
Sir, I know she is: but it were pity to make poor our Land, with
such a beauty to enrich another.
I do hope she will not, I think she will Sir.
