SCAR. Here?
DOC. For which you pine, in conscience burn,
And wish you had been better, or ne'er born.
SCAR. Does all this happen to a wretch like me?
DOC. Both this and worse; your soul eternally
Shall live in torment, though the body die.
SCAR. I shall have need of drink then: Butler!
DOC. Nay, all your sins are on your children laid,
For the offences that the father made.
SCAR. Are they, sir?
DOC. Be sure they are.
Enter BUTLER.
SCAR. Butler!