A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Ix Part 115
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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 d.a.m.n 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 G.o.d'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 pa.s.sage 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_.
A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Ix Part 115
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A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Ix Part 115 summary
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