Rob. Nay, good uncle!
Steph. Why, I'll beg for thee, boy;
I'll break this leg, and bind it up again,
To pull out pity from a stony breast,
Rather than thou shalt want.
O. Fos. Ay, do; let him sear up his arm, and scarf it up
With two yards of rope; counterfeit two villains;
Beg under a hedge, and share your bounty:[48]
But come not near my house;
Nor thou in's company, if thou'lt obey:
There's punishment for thee; for thee there's worse:
The loss of all that's mine, with my dear curse. [Exeunt.
Manent Stephen and Robert.
Steph. Churl! dog! you churlish rascally miser!
Rob. Nay, good uncle, throw not foul language;
This is but heat, sir, and I doubt not but
To cool this rage with my obedience:
But, uncle, you must not then heap[49] such fuel.
Steph. Coz, I grieve for thee, that thou hast undergone
Thy father's curse for love unto thy uncle.
Rob. Tut! that bond shall ne'er be cancell'd, sir.
Steph. I pity that, i'faith.
Rob. Let pity then for me turn to yourself:
Bethink yourself, sir, of some course that might
Befit your estate, and let me guide it.