Enter ILFORD with SCARBOROW'S SISTER.

ILF. Ho, sirrah, who would have thought it? I perceive now a woman may be a maid, be married, and lose her maidenhead, and all in half an hour. And how dost like me now, wench?

SIS. As doth befit your servant and your wife,
That owe you love and duty all my life.

ILF. And there shall be no love lost, nor service neither; I'll do thee service at board, and thou shalt do me service a-bed: now must I, as young married men use to do, kiss my portion out of my young wife. Thou art my sweet rogue, my lamb, my pigsny, my playfellow, my pretty-pretty anything. Come, a buss, prythee, so 'tis my kind heart; and wots thou what now?

SIS. Not till you tell me, sir.

ILF. I have got thee with child in my conscience, and, like a kind husband, methinks I breed it for thee. For I am already sick at my stomach, and long extremely. Now must thou be my helpful physician, and provide for me.

SIS. Even to my blood,
What's mine is yours, to gain your peace or good.

ILF. What a kind soul is this! Could a man have found a greater content in a wife, if he should have sought through the world for her? Prythee, heart, as I said, I long, and in good troth I do, and methinks thy first child will be born without a nose, if I lose my longing: 'tis but for a trifle too; yet methinks it will do me no good, unless thou effect it for me. I could take thy keys myself, go into thy closet, and read over the deeds and evidences of thy land, and in reading over them, rejoice I had such blessed fortune to have so fair a wife with so much endowment, and then open thy chests, and survey thy plate, jewels, treasure; but a pox on't, all will do me no good, unless thou effect it for me.

SIS. Sir, I will show you all the wealth I have
Of coin, of jewels, and possessions.

ILF. Good gentle heart, I'll give thee another buss for that: for that, give thee a new gown to-morrow morning by this hand; do thou but dream what stuff and what fashion thou wilt have it on to-night.

SIS. The land I can endow you with's my Love:
The riches I possess for you is Love,
A treasure greater than is land or gold,
It cannot be forfeit, and it shall ne'er be sold.

ILF. Love, I know that; and I'll answer thee love for love in abundance: but come, prythee, come, let's see these deeds and evidences—this money, plate, and jewels. Wilt have thy child born without a nose? if thou be'st so careless, spare not: why, my little frappet, you, I heard thy uncles talk of thy riches, that thou hadst hundreds a year, several lordships, manors, houses, thousands of pounds in your great chest; jewels, plate, and rings in your little box.

SIS. And for that riches you did marry me?

ILF. Troth, I did, as nowadays bachelors do: swear I lov'd thee, but indeed married thee for thy wealth.

SIS. Sir, I beseech you say not your oaths were such,
So like false coin being put unto the touch;
Who bear a flourish in the outward show
Of a true stamp, but truly[416] are not so.
You swore me love, I gave the like to you:
Then as a ship, being wedded to the sea,
Does either sail or sink, even so must I,
You being the haven, to which my hopes must fly.

ILF. True, chuck, I am thy haven, and harbour too,
And like a ship I took thee, who brings home treasure
As thou to me the merchant-venturer.

SIS. What riches I am ballast with are yours.

ILF. That's kindly said now.

SIS. If but with sand, as I am but with earth,
Being your right, of right you must receive me:
I have no other lading but my love,
Which in abundance I will render you.
If other freight you do expect my store,
I'll pay you tears: my riches are no more.

ILF. How's this? how's this? I hope you do but jest.

SIS. I am sister to decayed Scarborow.

ILF. Ha!

SIS. Whose substance your enticements did consume.

ILF. Worse than an ague.

SIS. Which as you did believe, so they supposed.
'Twas fitter for yourself than for another
To keep the sister, had undone the brother.

ILF. I am gulled, by this hand. An old coneycatcher, and beguiled! where the pox now are my two coaches, choice of houses, several suits, a plague on them, and I know not what! Do you hear, puppet, do you think you shall not be damned for this, to cosen a gentleman of his hopes, and compel yourself into matrimony with a man, whether he will or no with you? I have made a fair match, i'faith: will any man buy my commodity out of my hand? As God save me, he shall have her for half the money she cost me.

Enter WENTLOE and BARTLEY.

WEN. O, have we met you, sir?

BAR. What, turned micher, steal a wife, and not make your old friends acquainted with it?

ILF. A pox on her, I would you had her!

WEN. Well, God give you joy! we can hear of your good fortune, now 'tis done, though we could not be acquainted with it aforehand.

BAR. As that you have two thousand pounds a year.

WEN. Two or three manor-houses.

BAR. A wife, fair, rich, and virtuous.

ILF. Pretty, i'faith, very pretty.

WEN. Store of gold.

BAR. Plate in abundance.

ILF. Better, better, better.

WEN. And so many oxen, that their horns are able to store all the cuckolds in your country.

ILF. Do not make me mad, good gentlemen, do not make me mad: I could be made a cuckold with more patience, than endure this.

WEN. Foh! we shall have you turn proud now, grow respectless of your ancient acquaintance. Why, Butler told us of it, who was the maker of the match for you.

ILF. A pox of his furtherance! gentlemen, as you are Christians, vex me no more. That I am married, I confess; a plague of the fates, that wedding and hanging comes by destiny; but for the riches she has brought, bear witness how I'll reward her. [Kicks her.

SIS. Sir!

ILF. Whore, ay, and jade. Witch! Ill-faced, stinking-breath, crooked-nose, worse than the devil—and a plague on thee that ever I saw thee!

BAR. A comedy, a comedy!

WEN. What's the meaning of all this? is this the masque after thy marriage!

ILF. O gentlemen, I am undone, I am undone, for I am married! I, that could not abide a woman, but to make her a whore, hated all she-creatures, fair and poor; swore I would never marry but to one that was rich, and to be thus coney-catched! Who do you think this is, gentlemen?

WEN. Why, your wife; who should it be else?

ILF. That's my misfortune; that marrying her in hope she was rich, she proves to be the beggarly sister to the more beggarly Scarborow.

BAR. How?

WEN. Ha, ha, ha!

ILF. Ay, you may laugh, but she shall cry as well as I for't.

BAR. Nay, do not weep.

WEN. He does but counterfeit now to delude us. He has all her portion of land, coin, plate, jewels, and now dissembles thus, lest we should borrow some money of him.

ILF. And you be kind, gentlemen, lend me some; for, having paid the priest, I have not so much left in the world as will hire me a horse to carry me away from her.

BAR. But art thou thus gulled, i'faith?

ILF. Are you sure you have eyes in your head?

WEN. Why, then, [it is] by her brother's setting on, in my conscience; who knowing thee now to have somewhat to take to by the death of thy father, and that he hath spent her portion and his own possessions, hath laid this plot for thee to marry her, and so he to be rid of her himself.

ILF. Nay, that's without question; but I'll be revenged of 'em both.
For you, minx:—nay, 'sfoot, give 'em me, or I'll kick else.

SIS. Good, sweet.

ILF. Sweet with a pox! you stink in my nose, give me your jewels: nay, bracelets too.

SIS. O me most miserable!

ILF. Out of my sight, ay, and out of my doors: for now what's within
this house is mine; and for your brother,
He made this match in hope to do you good,
And I wear this, the[417] which shall draw his blood.

WEN. A brave resolution.

BAR. In which we'll second thee.
[Exit with WENTLOE.

ILF. Away, whore! out of my doors, whore!
[Exit.

SIS. O grief, that poverty should have that power to tear
Men from themselves, though they wed, bed, and swear.

Enter THOMAS and JOHN SCARBOROW with BUTLER.

THOM. How now, sister?

SIS. Undone, undone!

BUT. Why, mistress, how is't? how is't?

SIS. My husband has forsook me.

BUT. O perjury!

SIS. Has ta'en my jewels and my bracelets from me.

THOM. Vengeance, I played the thief for the money that bought 'em.

SIS. Left me distressed, and thrust me forth o' doors.

THOM. Damnation on him! I will hear no more.
But for his wrong revenge me on my brother,
Degenerate, and was the curse of all,
He spent our portion, and I'll see his fall.

JOHN. O, but, brother—

THOM. Persuade me not.
All hopes are shipwreck'd, misery comes on,
The comfort we did look from him is frustrate,
All means, all maintenance, but grief is gone;
And all shall end by his destruction. [Exit.

JOHN. I'll follow, and prevent what in this heat may happen:
His want makes sharp his sword; too great's the ill,
If that one brother should another kill. [Exit.

BUT. And what will you do, mistress?

SIS. I'll sit me down, sigh loud instead of words,
And wound myself with grief as they with swords.
And for the sustenance that I should eat,
I'll feed on grief, 'tis woe's best-relish'd meat.

BUT. Good heart, I pity you,
You shall not be so cruel to yourself,
I have the poor serving-man's allowance:
Twelve pence a day, to buy me sustenance;
One meal a day I'll eat, the t'other fast,
To give your wants relief. And, mistress,
Be this some comfort to your miseries,
I'll have thin cheeks, ere you shall have wet eyes.

[Exeunt.

Enter SCARBOROW.

SCAR. What is a prodigal? Faith, like a brush,
That wears himself to furbish[418] others' clothes,
And, having worn his heart even to the stump,
He's thrown away like a deformed lump.
O, such am I: I have spent all the wealth
My ancestors did purchase, made others brave
In shape and riches, and myself a knave.
For though my wealth rais'd some to paint their door,
'Tis shut against me saying I am but poor:
Nay, even the greatest arm, whose hand hath grac'd
My presence to the eye of majesty, shrinks back,
His fingers clutch, and like to lead,
They are heavy to raise up my state, being dead.
By which I find spendthrifts (and such am I)
Like strumpets flourish, but are foul within,
And they (like snakes) know when to cast their skin.

Enter THOMAS SCARBOROW.

THOM. Turn, draw, and die; I come to kill thee.

SCAR. What's he that speaks like sickness? O, is't you?
Sleep still, you cannot move me: fare you well.

THOM. Think not my fury slakes so, or my blood
Can cool itself to temper by refusal:
Turn, or thou diest.

SCAR. Away.

THOM. I do not wish to kill thee like a slave,
That taps men in their cups, and broach[es] their hearts,
Ere with a warning-piece they have wak'd their ears;
I would not like to powder shoot thee down
To a flat grave, ere thou hast thought to frown:
I am no coward, but in manly terms
And fairest oppositions vow to kill thee.

SCAR. From whence proceeds this heat?

THOM. From sparkles bred
By thee, that like a villain—

SCAR. Ha!

THOM. I'll hollow it
In thine ears, till thy soul quake to hear it,
That like a villain hast undone thy brothers.

SCAR. Would thou wert not so near me! yet, farewell.

THOM. By Nature and her laws make[419] us akin—
As near as are these hands, or sin to sin—
Draw and defend thyself, or I'll forget
Thou art a man.

SCAR. Would thou wert not my brother!

THOM. I disclaim thee[420].

SCAR. Are we not offspring of one parent, wretch?

THOM. I do forget it; pardon me the dead,
I should deny the pains you bid for me.
My blood grows hot for vengeance, thou hast spent
My life's revenues, that our parents purchas'd.

SCAR. O, do not rack me with remembrance on't.

THOM. Thou hast made my life a beggar in this world,
And I will make thee bankrupt of thy breath:
Thou hast been so bad, the best that I can give[421].
Thou art a devil: not with men to live.

SCAR. Then take a devil's payment

Here they make a pass one upon another, when at Scarborow's back come in ILFORD, WENTLOE, and BARTLEY.

ILF. He's here; draw, gentlemen.

WEN., BART. Die, Scarborow.

SCAR. Girt round with death!

THOM. How, set upon by three! 'Sfoot, fear not, brother; you cowards, three to one! slaves, worse than fencers that wear long weapons. You shall be fought withal, you shall be fought withal.

[Here the brothers join, drive the rest out, and return.

SCAR. Brother, I thank you, for you now have been
A patron of my life. Forget the sin,
I pray you, which my loose and wasteful hours
Hath made against your fortunes; I repent 'em,
And wish I could new-joint and strength your hopes,
Though with indifferent ruin of mine own.
I have a many sins, the thought of which
Like finest[422] needles prick me to the soul,
But find your wrongs to have the sharpest point.
If penitence your losses might repair,
You should be rich in wealth, and I in care.

THOM. I do believe you, sir: but I must tell you,
Evils the which are 'gainst another done,
Repentance makes no satisfaction
To him that feels the smart. Our father, sir,
Left in your trust my portion: you have spent it,
And suffered me (whilst you in riot's house—
A drunken tavern—spill'd my maintenance,
Perhaps upon the ground with o'erflown cups;)
Like birds in hardest winter half-starv'd, to fly
And pick up any food, lest I should die.

SCAR. I pr'ythee, let us be at peace together.

THOM. At peace for what? For spending my inheritance?
By yonder sun that every soul has life by,
As sure as thou hast life, I'll fight with thee.

SCAR. I'll not be mov'd unto't.

THOM. I'll kill thee then, wert thou now clasp'd
Within thy mother, wife, or children's arms.

SCAR. Would'st, homicide? art so degenerate?
Then let my blood grow hot.

THOM. For it shall cool.

SCAR. To kill rather than be kill'd is manhood's rule.

Enter JOHN SCARBOROW.

JOHN. Stay, let not your wraths meet.

THOM. Heart! what mak'st thou here?

JOHN. Say, who are you, or you? are you not one,
That scarce can make a fit distinction
Betwixt each other? Are you not brothers?

THOM. I renounce him.

SCAR. Shalt not need.

THOM. Give way.

SCAR. Have at thee!

JOHN. Who stirs? which of you both hath strength within his arm
To wound his own breast? who's so desperate
To damn himself by killing of himself?
Are you not both one flesh?

THOM. Heart! give me way.

SCAR. Be not a bar betwixt us, or by my sword
I'll[423] mete thy grave out.

JOHN. O, do: for God's sake, do;
'Tis happy death, if I may die, and you
Not murder one another. O, do but hearken:
When do the sun and moon, born in one frame,
Contend, but they breed earthquakes in men's hearts?
When any star prodigiously appears,
Tells it not fall of kings or fatal years?
And then, if brothers fight, what may men think?
Sin grows so high, 'tis time the world should sink.

SCAR. My heart grows cool again; I wish it not.

THOM. Stop not my fury, or by my life I swear.
I will reveal the robbery we have done,
And take revenge on thee,
That hinders me to take revenge on him.

JOHN. I yield to that; but ne'er consent to this,
I shall then die, as mine own sin affords,
Fall by the law, not by my brothers' swords.

THOM. Then, by that light that guides me here, I vow,
I'll straight to Sir John Harcop, and make known
We were the two that robb'd him.

JOHN. Prythee, do.

THOM. Sin has his shame, and thou shalt have thy due.
[Exit.

JOHN. Thus have I shown the nature of a brother,
Though you have proved unnatural to me.
He's gone in heat to publish out the theft,
Which want and your unkindness forc'd us to:
If now I die, that death and public shame
Is a corsive to your soul, blot to your name.
[Exit.

SCAR. O, 'tis too true, there's not a thought I think,
But must partake thy grief, and drink
A relish of thy sorrow and misfortune.
With weight of others' tears I am o'erborne,
That scarce am Atlas to hold up mine own,
And all too good for me. A happy creature
In my cradle, and I have made myself
The common curse of mankind by my life;
Undone my brothers, made them thieves for bread,
And begot pretty children to live beggars.
O conscience, how thou art stung to think upon't!
My brothers unto shame must yield their blood:
My babes at others' stirrups beg their food,
Or else turn thieves too, and be chok'd for it,
Die a dog's death, be perch'd upon a tree;
Hang'd betwixt heaven and earth, as fit for neither.
The curse of heaven that's due to reprobates
Descends upon my brothers and my children,
And I am parent to it—ay, I am parent to it.

Enter BUTLER.

BUT. Where are you, sir?

SCAR. Why star'st thou, what's thy haste?

BUT. Here's fellows swarm like flies to speak with you.

SCAR. What are they?

BUT. Snakes, I think, sir; for they come with stings in their mouths, and their tongues are turn'd to teeth too: they claw villainously, they have ate up your honest name and honourable reputation by railing against you: and now they come to devour your possessions.

SCAR. In plainer evargy,[424] what are they? speak.

BUT. Mantichoras,[425] monstrous beasts, enemies to mankind, that have double rows of teeth in their mouths. They are usurers, they come yawning for money, and the sheriff with them is come to serve an extent upon your land, and then seize on your body by force of execution: they have begirt the house round.

SCAR. So that the roof our ancestors did build
For their sons' comfort, and their wives for charity,
I dare not to look out at.

BUT. Besides, sir, here's your poor children—

SCAR. Poor children they are indeed.

BUT. Come with fire and water, tears in their eyes and burning grief in their hearts, and desire to speak with you.

SCAR. Heap sorrow upon sorrow! tell me, are
My brothers gone to execution
For what I did? for every heinous sin
Sits on his soul, by whom it did begin.
And so did theirs by me. Tell me withal,
My children carry moisture in their eyes,
Whose speaking drops say, father, thus must we
Ask our relief, or die with infamy,
For you have made us beggars. Yet when thy tale has kill'd me,
To give my passage comfort from this stage,
Say all was done by enforc'd marriage:
My grave will then be welcome.

BUT. What shall we do, sir?

SCAR. Do as the devil does, hate (panther-like) mankind![426]
And yet I lie; for devils sinners love,
When men hate men, though good like some above.

Enter SCARBOROW'S wife KATHERINE, with two Children.

BUT. Your wife's come in, sir.

SCAR. Thou li'st, I have not a wife. None can be call'd
True man and wife, but those whom heaven install'd,
Say—

KATH. O my dear husband!

SCAR. You are very welcome. Peace: we'll have compliment.
Who are you, gentlewoman?

KATH. Sir, your distressed wife, and these your children,

SCAR. Mine! Where, how, begot?
Prove me by certain instance that's divine,
That I should call them lawful, or thee mine.

KATH. Were we not married, sir?

SCAR. No; though we heard the words of ceremony,
But had hands knit, as felons that wear fetters
Forc'd upon them. For tell me, woman,
Did e'er my love with sighs entreat thee mine?
Did ever I in willing conference
Speak words, made half with tears, that I did love thee?
Or was I ever but glad to see thee, as all lovers are?
No, no, thou know'st I was not.

KATH. O me!

BUT. The more's the pity.

SCAR. But when I came to church, I did there stand,
As water, whose forc'd breach[427] had drown'd my land.
Are you my wife, or these my children?
Why, 'tis impossible; for like the skies
Without the sun's light, so look all your eyes;
Dark, cloudy, thick, and full of heaviness;
Within my country there was hope to see
Me and my issue to be like our fathers,
Upholders of our country all our life,
Which should have been if I had wed a wife:
Where now,
As dropping leaves in autumn you look all,
And I, that should uphold you, like to fall.

KATH. 'Twas nor shall be my fault, heaven bear me witness.

SCAR. Thou liest, strumpet, thou liest!

BUT. O sir!

SCAR. Peace, saucy Jack! strumpet, I say thou liest,
For wife of mine thou art not, and these thy bastards
Whom I begot of thee with this unrest,
That bastards born are born not to be blest.

KATH. On me pour all your wrath, but not on them.

SCAR. On thee and them, for 'tis the end of lust
To scourge itself, heaven lingering to be just:
Harlot!

KATH. Husband!

SCAR. Bastards!

CHIL. Father!

BUT. What heart not pities this?

SCAR. Even in your cradle, you were accurs'd of heaven,
Thou an adultress in my married arms.
And they that made the match, bawds to thy lust:
Ay, now you hang the head; shouldst have done so before,
Then these had not been bastards, thou a whore.

BUT. I can brook't no longer: sir, you do not well in this.

SCAR. Ha, slave!

BUT. 'Tis not the aim of gentry to bring forth
Such harsh unrelish'd fruit unto their wines[428],
And to their pretty—pretty children by my troth.

SCAR. How, rascal!

BUT. Sir, I must tell you, your progenitors,
Two of the which these years were servant to,
Had not such mists before their understanding,
Thus to behave themselves.

SCAR. And you'll control me, sir!

BUT. Ay, I will.

SCAR. You rogue!

BUT. Ay, 'tis I will tell 'tis ungently done
Thus to defame your wife, abuse your children:
Wrong them, you wrong yourself; are they not yours?

SCAR. Pretty—pretty impudence, in faith.

BUT. Her whom you are bound to love, to rail against!
Those whom you are bound to keep, to spurn like dogs!
And you were not my master, I would tell you—

SCAR. What, slave? [Draws.

BUT. Put up your bird-spit, tut, I fear it not;
In doing deeds so base, so vile as these,
'Tis but a kna, kna, kna—

SCAR. Rogue!

BUT. Tut, howsoever, 'tis a dishonest part,
And in defence of these I throw off duty.

KATH. Good butler.

BUT. Peace, honest mistress, I will say you are wrong'd,
Prove it upon him, even in his blood, his bones,
His guts, his maw, his throat, his entrails.

SCAR. You runagate of threescore!

BUT. 'Tis better than a knave of three-and-twenty.

SCAR. Patience be my buckler!
As not to file[429] my hands in villain's blood;
You knave, slave, trencher-groom!
Who is your master?

BUT. You, if you were a master.

SCAR. Off with your coat then, get you forth a-doors.

BUT. My coat, sir?

SCAR. Ay, your coat, slave.

BUT. 'Sfoot, when you ha't, 'tis but a threadbare coat,
And there 'tis for you: know that I scorn
To wear his livery is so worthy born,
And live[s] so base a life; old as I am,
I'll rather be a beggar than your man,
And there's your service for you. [Exit.

SCAR. Away, out of my door: away!
So, now your champion's gone, minx, thou hadst better
Have gone quick unto thy grave—

KATH. O me! that am no cause of it.

SCAR. Than have suborn'd that slave to lift his hand against me.

KATH. O me! what shall become of me?

SCAR. I'll teach you tricks for this: have you a companion?

Enter BUTLER.

BUT. My heart not suffers me to leave my honest mistress and her pretty children.

SCAR. I'll mark thee for a strumpet, and thy bastards—

BUT. What will you do to them, sir?

SCAR. The devil in thy shape come back again?

BUT. No, but an honest servant, sir, will take this coat,
And wear it with this sword to safeguard these,
And pity them, and I am woe for you[430], too;
But will not suffer
The husband, viper-like, to prey on them
That love him and have cherish'd him, as these
And they have you.

SCAR. Slave!

BUT. I will outhumour you, [I will]
Fight with you and lose my life, ere[431] these
Shall taste your wrong, whom you are bound to love.

SCAR. Out of my doors, slave!

BUT. I will not, but will stay and wear this coat,
And do you service whether you will or no.
I'll wear this sword, too, and be champion
To fight for her, in spite of any man.

SCAR. You shall: you shall be my master, sir.

BUT. No, I desire it not,
I'll pay you duty, even upon my knee,
But lose my life, ere these oppress'd I'll see.

SCAR. Yes, goodman slave, you shall be master,
Lie with my wife, and get more bastards; do, do, do.

KATH. O me!

SCAR. Turns the world upside down,
That men o'erbear their masters? it does, it does.
For even as Judas sold his master Christ,
Men buy and sell their wives at highest price,
What will you give me? what will you give me?
What will you give me? [Exit.

BUT. O mistress, my soul weeps, though mine eyes be dry,
To see his fall and your adversity;
Some means I have left, which I'll relieve you with.
Into your chamber, and if comfort be akin
To such great grief, comfort your children.

KATH. I thank thee, butler; heaven, when he please,
Send death unto the troubled—a blest ease.

[Exit with children.

BUT. In troth I know not, if it be good or ill,
That with this endless toil I labour thus:
'Tis but the old time's ancient conscience
That would do no man hurt, that makes me do't:
If it be sin, that I do pity these,
If it be sin, I have relieved his brothers,
Have played the thief with them to get their food,
And made a luckless marriage for his sister,
Intended for her good, heaven pardon me.
But if so, I am sure they are great sinners,
That made this match, and were unhappy[432] men;
For they caus'd all, and may heaven pardon them.

Enter SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW.

SIR WIL. Who's within here?

BUT. Sir William, kindly welcome.

SIR WIL. Where is my kinsman Scarborow?

BUT. Sooth, he's within, sir, but not very well.

SIR WIL. His sickness?

BUT. The hell of sickness; troubled in his mind.

SIR WIL. I guess the cause of it,
But cannot now intend to visit him.
Great business for my sovereign hastes me hence;
Only this letter from his lord and guardian to him,
Whose inside, I do guess, tends to his good;
At my return I'll see him: so farewell. [Exit.

BUT. Whose inside, I do guess, turns to his good.
He shall not see it now, then; for men's minds,
Perplex'd like his, are like land-troubling-winds,
Who have no gracious temper.

Enter JOHN SCARBOROW.

JOHN. O butler!

BUT. What's the fright now?

JOHN. Help, straight, or on the tree of shame
We both shall perish for the robbery.

BUT. What, is't reveal'd, man?

JOHN. Not yet, good butler: only my brother Thomas,
In spleen to me that would not suffer him
To kill our elder brother had undone us,
Is riding now to Sir John Harcop straight,
To disclose it.

BUT. Heart! who would rob with sucklings?
Where did you leave him?

JOHN. Now taking horse to ride to Yorkshire.

BUT. I'll stay his journey, lest I meet a hanging.

[Exeunt.

Enter SCARBOROW.

SCAR. I'll parley with the devil: ay, I will,
He gives his counsel freely, and the cause
He for his clients pleads goes always with them:
He in my cause shall deal then; and I'll ask him
Whether a cormorant may have stuff'd chests,
And see his brother starve? why, he'll say, ay[433],
The less they give, the more I gain thereby;

Enter BUTLER.

Their souls, their souls, their souls.
How now, master? nay, you are my master;
Is my wife's sheets warm? does she kiss well?

BUT. Good sir.

SCAR. Foh! make't not strange, for in these days,
There's many men lie in their masters' sheets,
And so may you in mine, and yet—your business, sir?

BUT. There's one in civil habit, sir, would speak with you.

SCAR. In civil habit?

BUT. He is of seemly rank, sir, and calls himself
By the name of Doctor Baxter of Oxford.

SCAR. That man undid me; he did blossoms blow,
Whose fruit proved poison, though 'twas good in show:
With him I'll parley, and disrobe my thoughts
Of this wild frenzy that becomes me not.
A table, candles, stools, and all things fit,
I know he comes to chide me, and I'll hear him:
With our sad conference we will call up tears,
Teach doctors rules, instruct succeeding years:
Usher him in:
Heaven spare a drop from thence, where's bounteous throng:
Give patience to my soul, inflame my tongue.

Enter DOCTOR.

DOC. Good Master Scarborow.

SCAR. You are most kindly welcome, sooth, ye are.

DOC. I have important business to deliver you.

SCAR. And I have leisure to attend your hearing.

DOC. Sir, you know I married you.

SCAR. I know you did, sir.

DOC. At which you promis'd both to God and men,
Your life unto your spouse should be like snow,
That falls to comfort, not to overthrow:
And love unto your issue should be like
The dew of heaven, that hurts not, though it strike:
When heaven and men did witness and record
'Twas an eternal oath, no idle word:
Heaven, being pleased therewith, bless'd you with children,
And at heaven's blessings all good men rejoice.
So that God's chair and footstool, heaven and earth,
Made offering at your nuptials as a knot
To mind you of your vow; O, break it not.

SCAR. 'Tis very true[434].

DOC. Now, sir, from this your oath and band[435],
Faith's pledge and seal of conscience you have run,
Broken all contracts, and the forfeiture
Justice hath now in suit against your soul:
Angels are made the jurors, who are witnesses
Unto the oath you took, and God himself,
Maker of marriage, he that seal'd the deed,
As a firm lease unto you during life,
Sits now as judge of your transgression:
The world informs against you with this voice:
If such sins reign, what mortals can rejoice?

SCAR. What then ensues to me?

DOC. A heavy doom, whose execution's
Now serv'd upon your conscience, that ever
You shall feel plagues, whom time shall not dissever;
As in a map your eyes see all your life,
Bad words, worse deeds, false oaths, and all the injuries,
You have done unto your soul: then comes your wife,
Full of woe's drops, and yet as full of pity,
Who though she speaks not, yet her eyes are swords[436],
That cut your heart-strings: and then your children—

SCAR. O, O, O!

DOC. Who, what they cannot say, talk in their looks;
You have made us up, but as misfortune's books,
Whom other men may read in, when presently,
Task'd by yourself, you are not, like a thief,
Astonied, being accus'd, but scorch'd with grief.

SCAR. I, I, I.

DOC. Here stand your wife's tears.

SCAR. Where?

DOC. And you fry for them: here lie your children's wants.

SCAR. Here?

DOC. For which you pine, in conscience burn,
And wish you had been better, or ne'er born.

SCAR. Does all this happen to a wretch like me?

DOC. Both this and worse; your soul eternally
Shall live in torment, though the body die.

SCAR. I shall have need of drink then: Butler!

DOC. Nay, all your sins are on your children laid,
For the offences that the father made.

SCAR. Are they, sir?

DOC. Be sure they are.

Enter BUTLER.

SCAR. Butler!

BUT. Sir.

SCAR. Go fetch my wife and children hither.

BUT. I will, sir.

SCAR. I'll read a lecture[437] to the doctor too,
He's a divine? ay, he's a divine. [Aside.]

BUT. I see his mind is troubled, and have made bold with duty to read a letter tending to his good; have made his brothers friends: both which I will conceal till better temper. He sends me for his wife and children; shall I fetch them? [Aside.

SCAR. He's a divine, and this divine did marry me:
That's good, that's good. [Aside.

DOC. Master Scarborow.

SCAR. I'll be with you straight, sir.

BUT. I will obey him,
If anything doth happen that is ill,
Heaven bear me record, 'tis 'gainst my will. [Exit.

SCAR. And this divine did marry me,
Whose tongue should be the key to open truth,
As God's ambassador. Deliver, deliver, deliver. [Aside.

DOC. Master Scarborow.

SCAR. I'll be with you straight, sir:
Salvation to afflicted consciences,
And not give torment to contented minds,
Who should be lamps to comfort out our way,
And not like firedrakes[438] to lead men astray,
Ay, I'll be with you straight, sir.

Enter BUTLER, [with Wife and Children].

BUT. Here's your wife and children, sir.

SCAR. Give way, then,
I have my lesson perfect; leave us here.

BUT. Yes, I will go, but I will be so near, To hinder the mishap, the which I fear. [Exit BUTLER.

SCAR. Now, sir, you know this gentlewoman?

DOC. Kind Mistress Scarborow.

SCAR. Nay, pray you keep your seat, for you shall hear
The same affliction you have taught me fear,
Due to yourself.

DOC. To me, sir?

SCAR. To you, sir.
You match'd me to this gentlewoman?

DOC. I know I did, sir.

SCAR. And you will say she is my wife then.

DOC. I have reason, sir, because I married you.

SCAR. O, that such tongues should have the time to lie,
Who teach men how to live, and how to die;
Did not you know my soul had given my faith,
In contract to another? and yet you
Would join this loom unto unlawful twists.

DOC. Sir?

SCAR. But, sir,
You that can see a mote within my eye,
And with a cassock blind your own defects,
I'll teach you this: 'tis better to do ill,
That's never known to us, than of self-will.
Stand these[439], all these, in thy seducing eye,
As scorning life, make them be glad to die.

DOC. Master Scarborow—

SCAR. Here will I write that they, which marry wives,
Unlawful live with strumpets all their lives.
Here will I seal the children that are born,
From wombs unconsecrate, even when their soul
Has her infusion, it registers they are foul,
And shrinks to dwell with them, and in my close
I'll show the world, that such abortive men
Knit hands without free tongues, look red like them
Stand you and you to acts most tragical:
Heaven has dry eyes, when sin makes sinners fall.

DOC. Help, Master Scarborow.

CHIL. Father.

KATH. Husband.

SCAR. These for thy act should die, she for my Clare,
Whose wounds stare thus upon me for revenge.
These to be rid from misery, this from sin,
And thou thyself shalt have a push amongst them,
That made heaven's word a pack-horse to thy tongue,
Quot'st Scripture to make evil shine like good!
And as I send you thus with worms to dwell,
Angels applaud it as a deed done well.

Enter BUTLER.

DOC. Stay him, stay him.

BUT. What will you do, sir?

SCAR. Make fat worms of stinking carcases.
What hast thou to do with it?

Enter ILFORD and his Wife, the two Brothers,
and SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW.

BUT. Look, who are here, sir?

SCAR. Injurious villain! that prevent'st me still.

BUT. They are your brothers and alliance, sir.

SCAR. They are like full ordnance then who, once discharg'd,
Afar off give a warning to my soul,
That I have done them wrong.

SIR WIL. Kinsman.

BRO. AND SIS. Brother.

KATH. Husband.

CHIL. Father.

SCAR. Hark, how their words like bullets shoot me thorough,
And tell me I have undone them: this side might say,
We are in want, and you are the cause of it;
This points at me, y'are shame unto your house:
This tongue says nothing, but her looks do tell
She's married, but as those that live in hell:
Whereby all eyes are but misfortune's pipe,
Fill'd full of woe by me: this feels the stripe.

BUT. Yet look, sir,
Here's your brothers hand in hand, whom I have knit so.

SIS. And look, sir, here's my husband's hand in mine,
And I rejoice in him, and he in me.

SIR WIL. I say, cos, what is pass'd is the way to bliss,
For they know best to mend, that know amiss.

KATH. We kneel: forget, and say if you but love us,
You gave us grief for future happiness.

SCAR. What's all this to my conscience?

BUT. Ease, promise of succeeding joy to you;
Read but this letter.

SIR WIL. Which tells you that your lord and guardian's dead.

BUT. Which tells you that he knew he did you wrong,
Was griev'd for't, and for satisfaction
Hath given you double of the wealth you had.

BRO. Increas'd our portions.

WIFE. Given me a dowry too.

BUT. And that he knew,
Your sin was his, the punishment his due.

SCAR. All this is here:
Is heaven so gracious to sinners then?

BUT. Heaven is, and has his gracious eyes,
To give men life, not life-entrapping spies.

SCAR. Your hand—yours—yours—to my soul: to you a kiss;
In troth I am sorry I have stray'd amiss;
To whom shall I be thankful? all silent?
None speak? whist! why then to God,
That gives men comfort as he gives his rod;
Your portions I'll see paid, and I will love you,
You three I'll live withal, my soul shall love you!
You are an honest servant, sooth you are;
To whom? I, these, and all must pay amends;
But you I will admonish in cool terms,
Let not promotion's hope be as a string,
To tie your tongue, or let it loose to sting.

DOC. From hence it shall not, sir.

SCAR. Then husbands thus shall nourish with their wives. [Kiss.

ILF. As thou and I will, wench.

SCAR. Brothers in brotherly love thus link together [Embrace. Children and servants pay their duty thus. [Bow and kneel. And are all pleas'd?

ALL. We are.

SCAR. Then, if all these be so,
I am new-wed, so ends all marriage woe;
And, in your eyes so lovingly being wed,
We hope your hands will bring us to our bed.

FINIS.