_Sum._ A Younger Brother! 'Tis a poor Title, and very hard to bear with: The Elder Fool inherits all the Land, whilst we are forc'd to follow _Legacies of Wit, and get 'um when we can_. Why shou'd the Law, by which we are deprived of equal Portion with the First-begotten, not bind our Fathers to cease from Procreation, and so as well deprive us of a wretched Being, as of the Thing we cannot be without: No, no, our Mothers ne're will consent to that, they love to groan and squall, tho at the same time the Gallows eccho's to their Groans, and both together labour for us. From the first we travel forth--to'thers our Journey's End. _All this I know, yet I must forward_: To beg, my Birth will ne're consent to; and _borrowing is quite out of date_--Yet starve I cannot, _nor murder I wou'd not_: It must be the Highway then, the old Trade we poor honest Rogues are forc'd too--This Place will serve for a Beginner well enough--A Beginner did I say? Yes; for this is the very first day I open Shop--Fortune, they say, uses to help the Bold, I hope she will be kind to me. Ha! who have we here? A Gentlewoman well rigg'd, and only a Servant with her, She may be a Prize worth the boarding, and faith I'll venture hard but I'll carry her. [_He retires to a corner of the Stage._ _Enter_ Arabella _in great disorder, looking about her, with_ Symon _her Servant._ _Arab._ This way, say'st thou _Symon_, with _Friendly_? _Sym._ Yes forsooth Mistress, with Mr. _Friendly_. _Arab._ Alas! I'm tired and cannot travel further; my Heart is full of Fear, and yet I know not why, nor can I tell why he should use me thus,--It is not common sure for Men to leave their Brides upon the Wedding-day: And yet I cannot tell but it may be so! O wretched State of Marriage, and of Love, if this be Love! Here will I lie me down, and rest a while [_Lies down._] my wearied Limbs, unused to these sad Frights and Fears--But prethee do thou run after him, and if it be possible o'retake him too: Tell him the strange Disorder thou dost leave me in; and let him know my Father's Anger, his Friends Concern, and what is more, his _Arabella_'s sad Complaint; tell him, I grieve, I faint, I die; tell him any thing that may stay him. _Sym._ Yes Forsooth. _Arab._ Intreat him to return; nay, urge him all thou canst to make him come again: Nay haste, good _Symon_, fly if thou canst, for I can stir no further. _Sym._ Well, well, Forsooth, I am gone. [_Exit_ Symon. _Arab._ Alas, how wretched and forlorn am I!