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.