JOHN. Your brothers, who are glad to see you well.
SCAR. Well.
JOHN. 'Tis not your riot, that we hear you use
With such as waste their goods, as tire[395] the world
With a continual spending, nor that you keep
The company of a most leprous rout,
Consumes your body's wealth, infects your name
With such plague sores that, had you reason's eye,
'Twould make you sick to see you visit them—
Hath drawn us, but our wants to crave the due
Our father gave, and yet remains with you.
THOM. Our birthright, good brother; this town craves maintenance; silk stockings must be had, and we would be loth our heritage should be arraigned at the vintner's bar, and so condemned to the vintner's box. Though, while you did keep house, we had some belly timber at your table or so; yet we would have you think we are your brothers, yet no Esaus, to sell our patrimony for porridge.
SCAR. So, so; what hath your coming else?
JOHN. With us our sister joins in our request,
Whom we have brought along with us to London,
To have her portion, wherewith to provide
An honour'd service or an honest bride.
SCAR. So then you two my brothers, and she my sister, come not, as in duty you are bound, to an elder brother out of Yorkshire to see us, but like leeches to suck from us.
JOHN. We come compelled by want to crave our own.
SCAR. Sir, for your own? then thus be satisfied,
Both hers and yours were left in trust with me,
And I will keep it for ye: must you appoint us,
Or what we please to like mix with reproof?
You have been too saucy both, and you shall know
I'll curb you for it: ask why? I'll have it so.
JOHN. We do but crave our own.