ILF. 'Tis no matter who is the father. [Aside.]
HAR. But, son, here is a man of yours is come from London.
BUT. And brought you letters, sir.
SCAR. What news from London, butler?
BUT. The old news, sir. The ordinaries are full of cheaters, some citizens are bankrupts, and many gentlemen beggars.
SCAR. Clare, here is an unwelcome pursuivant;
My lord and guardian writes to me, with speed
I must return to London.
HAR. And you being ward to him, son Scarborow,
And no ingrate,[347] it fits that you obey him.
SCAR.[348] It does, it does; for by an ancient law
We are born free heirs, but kept like slaves in awe.
Who are for London, gallants?
ILF. Switch and Spur, we will bear you company.
SCAR. Clare, I must leave thee—with what unwillingness,
Witness this dwelling kiss upon thy lip;
And though I must be absent from thine eye,
Be sure my heart doth in thy bosom lie.
Three years I am yet a ward, which time I'll pass,
Making thy faith my constant looking-glass,
Till when—