Volume Ix Part 119 (1/2)

SCAR. And this divine did marry me, Whose tongue should be the key to open truth, As G.o.d's amba.s.sador. Deliver, deliver, deliver. [_Aside_.

DOC. Master Scarborow.

SCAR. I'll be with you straight, sir: Salvation to afflicted consciences, And not give torment to contented minds, Who should be lamps to comfort out our way, And not like firedrakes[438] to lead men astray, Ay, I'll be with you straight, sir.

_Enter_ BUTLER, [_with Wife and Children_].

BUT. Here's your wife and children, sir.

SCAR. Give way, then, I have my lesson perfect; leave us here.

BUT. Yes, I will go, but I will be so near, To hinder the mishap, the which I fear.

[_Exit_ BUTLER.

SCAR. Now, sir, you know this gentlewoman?

DOC. Kind Mistress Scarborow.

SCAR. Nay, pray you keep your seat, for you shall hear The same affliction you have taught me fear, Due to yourself.

DOC. To me, sir?

SCAR. To you, sir.

You match'd me to this gentlewoman?

DOC. I know I did, sir.

SCAR. And you will say she is my wife then.

DOC. I have reason, sir, because I married you.

SCAR. O, that such tongues should have the time to lie, Who teach men how to live, and how to die; Did not you know my soul had given my faith, In contract to another? and yet you Would join this loom unto unlawful twists.

DOC. Sir?

SCAR. But, sir, You that can see a mote within my eye, And with a ca.s.sock blind your own defects, I'll teach you this: 'tis better to do ill, That's never known to us, than of self-will.

Stand these[439], all these, in thy seducing eye, As scorning life, make them be glad to die.

DOC. Master Scarborow--

SCAR. Here will I write that they, which marry wives, Unlawful live with strumpets all their lives.

Here will I seal the children that are born, From wombs unconsecrate, even when their soul Has her infusion, it registers they are foul, And shrinks to dwell with them, and in my close I'll show the world, that such abortive men Knit hands without free tongues, look red like them Stand you and you to acts most tragical: Heaven has dry eyes, when sin makes sinners fall.

DOC. Help, Master Scarborow.

CHIL. Father.

KATH. Husband.

SCAR. These for thy act should die, she for my Clare, Whose wounds stare thus upon me for revenge.