[037] Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.
Adam. But do not so. I have five hundred crowns,
[039] The thrifty hire I saved under your father,
040 Which I did store to be my foster-nurse
[041] When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown:
Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
045 Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;
All this I give you. Let me be your servant: