7] 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