SCAR. Shame on them were the cause of it.
HAR. But hark, what thou hast got by it:
Thy wife is but a strumpet, thy children bastards,
Thyself a murderer, thy wife accessory,
Thy bed a stews, thy house a brothel.
SCAR. O, 'tis too true!
HAR. I made a wretched father, childless.
SCAR. I made a married man, yet wifeless.
HAR. Thou the cause of it?
SCAR. Thou the cause of it? [To his wife.
HAR. Curse on the day that e'er it was begun,
For I, an old man, am undone, undone. [Exit.
SCAR. For charity, have care upon that father,
Lest that his grief bring on a more mishap.
[Exeunt THOMAS and JOHN SCARBOROW.[378]
This to my arms my sorrow shall bequeath,
Though I have lost her, to the grave I'll bring;
Thou wert my wife, and I'll thy requiem sing.
Go you to the country, I'll to London back:
All riot now, since that my soul's so black.
[Exit, with CLARE.
KATH. Thus am I left like sea-toss'd mariners.
My fortunes being no more than my distress;
Upon what shore soever I am driven,
Be it good or bad, I must account it heaven:[379]
Though married, I am reputed no wife,
Neglected of my husband, scorn'd, despis'd:
And though my love and true obedience
Lies prostrate to his beck, his heedless eye
Receives my services unworthily.
I know no cause, nor will be cause of none,
But hope for better days, when bad be gone.
You are my guide. Whither must I, butler?