My steward too, post you to Yorkshire,
Where lies my youngster's land; and, sirrah,
Fell me his wood, make havoc, spoil and waste. [Exit STEWARD.
Sir, you shall know that you are ward to me,
I'll make you poor enough: then mend yourself.
WIL. O cousin!
SCAR. O uncle!
LORD. Contract yourself, and where you list?
I'll make you know me, sir, to be your guard.
SCAR. World, now thou seest what 'tis to be a ward.
LORD. And where I meant myself to have disburs'd
Four thousand pounds, upon this marriage
Surrendered up your land to your own use,
And compass'd other portions to your hands,
Sir, I'll now yoke you still.
SCAR. A yoke indeed.
LORD. And, spite of them[356] dare contradict my will, I'll make thee marry to my chambermaid. Come, coz. [Exit.
BAX. Faith, sir, it fits you to be more advis'd.
SCAR, Do not you flatter for preferment, sir?