SCAR. Then take a devil's payment
Here they make a pass one upon another, when at Scarborow's back come in ILFORD, WENTLOE, and BARTLEY.
ILF. He's here; draw, gentlemen.
WEN., BART. Die, Scarborow.
SCAR. Girt round with death!
THOM. How, set upon by three! 'Sfoot, fear not, brother; you cowards, three to one! slaves, worse than fencers that wear long weapons. You shall be fought withal, you shall be fought withal.
[Here the brothers join, drive the rest out, and return.
SCAR. Brother, I thank you, for you now have been
A patron of my life. Forget the sin,
I pray you, which my loose and wasteful hours
Hath made against your fortunes; I repent 'em,
And wish I could new-joint and strength your hopes,
Though with indifferent ruin of mine own.
I have a many sins, the thought of which
Like finest[422] needles prick me to the soul,
But find your wrongs to have the sharpest point.
If penitence your losses might repair,
You should be rich in wealth, and I in care.
THOM. I do believe you, sir: but I must tell you,
Evils the which are 'gainst another done,
Repentance makes no satisfaction
To him that feels the smart. Our father, sir,
Left in your trust my portion: you have spent it,
And suffered me (whilst you in riot's house—
A drunken tavern—spill'd my maintenance,
Perhaps upon the ground with o'erflown cups;)
Like birds in hardest winter half-starv'd, to fly
And pick up any food, lest I should die.
SCAR. I pr'ythee, let us be at peace together.