WAR. Master Friar, be brief; delay no time.
Scarlet and Scathlock, never hope for life:
Here is the place of execution,
And you must answer law for what is done.
SCAR. Well, if there be no remedy, we must:
Though it ill-seemeth, Warman, thou should'st be
So bloody to pursue our lives thus cruelly.
SCATH. Our mother sav'd thee fro the gallows, Warman:
His father did prefer thee to thy lord.
One mother had we both, and both our fathers
To thee and to thy father were kind friends.
FRIAR. Good fellows, here you see his kindness ends:
What he was once he doth not now consider.
You must consider of your many sins:
This day in death your happiness begins.
SCAR. If you account it happiness, good Friar,
To bear us company I you desire:
The more the merrier; we are honest men.
WAR. Ye were first outlaws, then ye proved thieves,
And now all carelessly ye scoff at death.
Both of your fathers were good, honest men;
Your mother lives, their widow, in good fame;
But you are scapethrifts, unthrifts, villains, knaves,
And as ye lived by shifts, shall die with shame.
SCATH. Warman, good words, for all your bitter deeds:
Ill-speech to wretched men is more than needs.
Enter RALPH, running.
RAL. Sir, retire ye, for it hath thus succeeded: the carnifex or executor, riding on an ill-curtal, hath titubated or stumbled, and is now cripplified, with broken or fractured tibiards, and, sending you tidings of success, saith yourself must be his deputy.
WAR. Ill-luck! but, sirrah, you shall serve the turn:
The cords that bind them you shall hang them in.