CHIL. Father.
KATH. Husband.
SCAR. These for thy act should die, she for my Clare,
Whose wounds stare thus upon me for revenge.
These to be rid from misery, this from sin,
And thou thyself shalt have a push amongst them,
That made heaven's word a pack-horse to thy tongue,
Quot'st Scripture to make evil shine like good!
And as I send you thus with worms to dwell,
Angels applaud it as a deed done well.
Enter BUTLER.
DOC. Stay him, stay him.
BUT. What will you do, sir?
SCAR. Make fat worms of stinking carcases.
What hast thou to do with it?
Enter ILFORD and his Wife, the two Brothers,
and SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW.
BUT. Look, who are here, sir?
SCAR. Injurious villain! that prevent'st me still.