THOM. Vengeance, I played the thief for the money that bought 'em.
SIS. Left me distressed, and thrust me forth o' doors.
THOM. Damnation on him! I will hear no more.
But for his wrong revenge me on my brother,
Degenerate, and was the curse of all,
He spent our portion, and I'll see his fall.
JOHN. O, but, brother—
THOM. Persuade me not.
All hopes are shipwreck'd, misery comes on,
The comfort we did look from him is frustrate,
All means, all maintenance, but grief is gone;
And all shall end by his destruction. [Exit.
JOHN. I'll follow, and prevent what in this heat may happen:
His want makes sharp his sword; too great's the ill,
If that one brother should another kill. [Exit.
BUT. And what will you do, mistress?
SIS. I'll sit me down, sigh loud instead of words,
And wound myself with grief as they with swords.
And for the sustenance that I should eat,
I'll feed on grief, 'tis woe's best-relish'd meat.
BUT. Good heart, I pity you,
You shall not be so cruel to yourself,
I have the poor serving-man's allowance:
Twelve pence a day, to buy me sustenance;
One meal a day I'll eat, the t'other fast,
To give your wants relief. And, mistress,
Be this some comfort to your miseries,
I'll have thin cheeks, ere you shall have wet eyes.
[Exeunt.