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].