Kent: Is not this your son, my lord?
Gloucester: His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have so often blush'd to acknowledge him that now I am braz'd to't.
Kent: I cannot conceive you.
Gloucester: Sir, this young fellow's mother could: whereupon she grew round-wombed, and had indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her
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