O. Fos. O torment to my soul! what mak'st thou here?
Cannot the picture of my misery
Be drawn, and hung out to the eyes of men,
But thou must come to scorn and laugh at it?
Rob. Dear sir,
I come to thrust my back under your load,
To make the burden lighter.
O. Fos. Hence from my sight, dissembling villain! go!
Thine uncle sends defiance to my woe,
And thou must bring it. Hence! thou basilisk,
That kill'st me with thine eyes. Nay, never kneel; [Robert kneels.
These scornful mocks more than my woes I feel.
Rob. Alas! I mock ye not, but come in love
And natural duty, sir, to beg your blessing;
And for mine uncle——
O. Fos. Him and thee I curse;
I'll starve ere I eat bread [bought] from his purse
Or from thy hand. Out, villain! tell that cur,
Thy barking uncle, that I lie not here
Upon my bed of riot, as he did,
Cover'd with all the villanies which man
Had ever woven; tell him I lie not so,
It was the hand of heaven struck me thus low,
And I do thank it. Get thee gone, I say,
Or I shall curse thee, strike thee; prythee, away!
Or if thou'lt laugh thy fill at my poor state,
Then stay, and listen to the prison-grate,
And hear thy father, an old wretched man,
That yesterday had thousands, beg and cry
To get a penny: O my misery!
Rob. Dear sir, for pity hear me.
O. Fos. Upon my curse I charge no nearer come:
I'll be no father to so vile a son. [Exit.
Rob. O my abortive fate!
Why for my good am I thus paid with hate!
From this sad place of Ludgate here I freed
An uncle, and I lost a father for it;
Now is my father here, whom if I succour,
I then must lose my uncle's love and favour.
My father once being rich, and uncle poor,
I him relieving was thrust forth of door.
Baffled, revil'd, and disinherited:
Now mine own father here must beg for bread,
Mine uncle being rich; and yet, if I
Feed him, myself must beg. O misery,
How bitter is thy taste! yet I will drink
Thy strongest poison: fret what mischief can,
I'll feed my father; though, like the pelican,
I peck mine own breast for him.
[Old Foster appears above at the grate, a box
hanging down.
O. Fos. Bread, bread! one penny to buy a loaf of bread for the tender mercy!