Be not thy names disgrace:
Spurn thou thy fortunes first if they be base:
Come view thy second brother.—Fates,
My childrens blood
Shall spin into your faces, you shall see
How Confidently we scorn beggery!
[Exit with his Son.]
SCENE V. A bed-room in the same.
[Enter a maid with a child in her arms, the mother by her a step.]
MAID.
Sleep, sweet babe; sorrow makes thy mother sleep:
It bodes small good when heaviness falls so deep.
Hush, pretty boy, thy hopes might have been better.
Tis lost at Dice what ancient honour won:
Hard when the father plays away the son!
No thing but misery serves in this house.
Ruin and desolation, oh!
[Enter husband with the boy bleeding.]
HUSBAND.
Whore, give me that boy.
[Strives with her for the child.]
MAID.
Oh help, help! out alas, murder, murder!
HUSBAND.
Are you gossiping, prating, sturdy queane?
I’ll break your clamor with your neck: down stairs!
Tumble, tumble, headlong!