Unto my plough.
Pembroke. He seizes on the havings,
The little way-found comforts of the bond,
Nor vouchsafes e'en a 'Wi' your leave, good man.'
Sutton. Man, matron, maid,—alas that it is so!
All are their victims.
Pembroke. Would we were not men,
But brutes,—they are used kindlier!
Straw. Men are we not.
Brutes only would bear this. Bond have there been