[_Exeunt_.
_Enter_ SCARBOROW.
SCAR. I'll parley with the devil: ay, I will, He gives his counsel freely, and the cause He for his clients pleads goes always with them: He in my cause shall deal then; and I'll ask him Whether a cormorant may have stuff'd chests, And see his brother starve? why, he'll say, ay[433], The less they give, the more I gain thereby;
_Enter_ BUTLER.
Their souls, their souls, their souls.
How now, master? nay, you are my master; Is my wife's sheets warm? does she kiss well?
BUT. Good sir.
SCAR. Foh! make't not strange, for in these days, There's many men lie in their masters' sheets, And so may you in mine, and yet--your business, sir?
BUT. There's one in civil habit, sir, would speak with you.
SCAR. In civil habit?
BUT. He is of seemly rank, sir, and calls himself By the name of Doctor Baxter of Oxford.
SCAR. That man undid me; he did blossoms blow, Whose fruit proved poison, though 'twas good in show: With him I'll parley, and disrobe my thoughts Of this wild frenzy that becomes me not.
A table, candles, stools, and all things fit, I know he comes to chide me, and I'll hear him: With our sad conference we will call up tears, Teach doctors rules, instruct succeeding years: Usher him in: Heaven spare a drop from thence, where's bounteous throng: Give patience to my soul, inflame my tongue.
_Enter_ DOCTOR.
DOC. Good Master Scarborow.
SCAR. You are most kindly welcome, sooth, ye are.
DOC. I have important business to deliver you.
SCAR. And I have leisure to attend your hearing.
DOC. Sir, you know I married you.
SCAR. I know you did, sir.
DOC. At which you promis'd both to God and men, Your life unto your spouse should be like snow, That falls to comfort, not to overthrow: And love unto your issue should be like The dew of heaven, that hurts not, though it strike: When heaven and men did witness and record 'Twas an eternal oath, no idle word: Heaven, being pleased therewith, bless'd you with children, And at heaven's blessings all good men rejoice.
So that God's chair and footstool, heaven and earth, Made offering at your nuptials as a knot To mind you of your vow; O, break it not.
SCAR. 'Tis very true[434].
DOC. Now, sir, from this your oath and band[435], Faith's pledge and seal of conscience you have run, Broken all contracts, and the forfeiture Justice hath now in suit against your soul: Angels are made the jurors, who are witnesses Unto the oath you took, and God himself, Maker of marriage, he that seal'd the deed, As a firm lease unto you during life, Sits now as judge of your transgression: The world informs against you with this voice: If such sins reign, what mortals can rejoice?
SCAR. What then ensues to me?
DOC. A heavy doom, whose execution's Now serv'd upon your conscience, that ever You shall feel plagues, whom time shall not dissever; As in a map your eyes see all your life, Bad words, worse deeds, false oaths, and all the injuries, You have done unto your soul: then comes your wife, Full of woe's drops, and yet as full of pity, Who though she speaks not, yet her eyes are swords[436], That cut your heart-strings: and then your children--
SCAR. O, O, O!
DOC. Who, what they cannot say, talk in their looks; You have made us up, but as misfortune's books, Whom other men may read in, when presently, Task'd by yourself, you are not, like a thief, Astonied, being accus'd, but scorch'd with grief.
SCAR. I, I, I.
DOC. Here stand your wife's tears.
SCAR. Where?
DOC. And you fry for them: here lie your children's wants.
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!
BUT. Sir.
SCAR. Go fetch my wife and children hither.
BUT. I will, sir.
SCAR. I'll read a lecture[437] to the doctor too, He's a divine? ay, he's a divine. [_Aside_.]
BUT. I see his mind is troubled, and have made bold with duty to read a letter tending to his good; have made his brothers friends: both which I will conceal till better temper. He sends me for his wife and children; shall I fetch them? [_Aside_.
SCAR. He's a divine, and this divine did marry me: That's good, that's good. [_Aside_.
DOC. Master Scarborow.
SCAR. I'll be with you straight, sir.
BUT. I will obey him, If anything doth happen that is ill, Heaven bear me record, 'tis 'gainst my will. [_Exit_.