e him not; he is more degenerate,
Than greedy vipers that devour their mother,
They eat on her but to preserve themselves,
And he consumes himself, and beggars us.
A tavern is his inn, where amongst slaves
He kills his substance, making pots the graves
To bury that which our forefather's gave.
I ask'd him for our portions, told him that you
Were brought to London, and we were in want;
Humbly we crav'd our own; when his reply
Was, he knew none we had: beg, starve, or die.

SIS. Alas!
What course is left us to live by, then?

THOM. In troth, sister, we two to beg in the fields,
And you to betake yourself to the old trade,
Filling of small cans in the suburbs.

SIS. Shall I be left then like a common road,
That every beast that can but pay his toll
May travel over, and, like to camomile,[396]
Flourish the better being trodden on.

_Enter_ BUTLER, _bleeding_.

BUT. Well, I will not curse him: he feeds now upon sack and anchovies,
with a pox to him: but if he be not fain, before he dies, to eat
acorns, let me live with nothing but pollard, and my mouth be made a
cucking-stool for every scold to set her tail on.

THOM. How now, butler, what's the meaning of this?

BUT. Your brother means to lame as many as he can, that when he is a
beggar himself, he may live with them in the hospital. His wife sent me
out of Yorkshire to tell him that God had blessed him with two sons; he
bids a plague of them, a vengeance of her, crosses me o'er the pate, and
sends me to the surgeon's to seek salve: I looked, at least he should
have given me a brace of angels for my pains.

THOM. Thou hast not lost all thy longing; I am sure he hath given thee a
cracked crown!

BUT. A plague on his fingers! I cannot tell, he is your brother and my
master; I would be loth to prophesy of him; but whosoe'er doth curse his
children being infants, ban his wife lying in childbed, and beats his
man brings him news of it, they may be born rich, but they shall live
slaves, be knaves, and die beggars.

SIS. Did he do so?

BUT. Guess you? he bid a plague of them, a vengeance on her, and sent me
to the surgeon's.

SIS. Why then I see there is no hope of him;
Some husbands are respectless of their wives,
During the time that they are issueless;
But none with infants bless'd can nourish hate,
But love the mother for the children's sake.

JOHN. But he that is given over unto sin,
Leproused therewith without, and so within--
O butler, we were i