Faith, if the truth were known, I was begot. After some gluttonous dinner; some stirring dish. Was my first father. When deep healths went round, And ladies' cheeks were painted red with wine, Their tongues as short and nimble as their heels, Uttering words sweet and thick, and when they rose. Were marrily disposed to fall again: Oh, damnation met. The sin of feasts, drunken adultery! I feel it swell me; my revenge is just: I was begot in impudent wine and lust(...)As for my brother, the duke's only son, Whose birth is more beholding to report. Than mine, and yet perhaps as falsely sown, I'll loose my days upon him, hate all I.