JOHN.  With us our sister joins in our request,
Whom we have brought along with us to London,
To have her portion, wherewith to provide
An honour’d service or an honest bride.

SCAR.  So then you two my brothers, and she my sister, come not, as in duty you are bound, to an elder brother out of Yorkshire to see us, but like leeches to suck from us.

JOHN.  We come compelled by want to crave our own.

SCAR.  Sir, for your own? then thus be satisfied,
Both hers and yours were left in trust with me,
And I will keep it for ye:  must you appoint us,
Or what we please to like mix with reproof? 
You have been too saucy both, and you shall know
I’ll curb you for it:  ask why?  I’ll have it so.

JOHN.  We do but crave our own.

SCAR.  Your own, sir? what’s your own?

THOM.  Our portions given us by our father’s will.

JOHN.  Which here you spend.

THOM.  Consume.

JOHN.  Ways worse than ill.

SCAR.  Ha, ha, ha!

    Enter ILFORD.

ILF.  Nay, nay, nay, Will:  prythee, come away, we have a full gallon of sack stays in the fire for thee.  Thou must pledge it to the health of a friend of thine.

SCAR.  What dost think these are, Frank?

ILF.  Who?  They are fiddlers, I think.  If they be, I prythee send them into the next room, and let them scrape there, and we’ll send to them presently.

SCAR.  They are my brothers, Frank, come out of Yorkshire
To the tavern here, to ask their portions: 
They call my pleasures riots, my company leprous;
And like a schoolboy they would tutor me.

ILF.  O, thou shouldst have done well to have bound them ’prentices when they were young; they would have made a couple of good saucy tailors.

THOM.  Tailors?

ILF.  Ay, birdlime tailors.  Tailors are good men, and in the term-time they wear good clothes.  Come, you must learn more manners:  as to stand at your brother’s back, to shift a trencher neatly, and take a cup of sack and a capon’s leg contentedly.

THOM.  You are a slave,
That feeds upon my brother like a fly,
Poisoning where thou dost suck.

SCAR.  You lie.

JOHN.  O (to my grief I speak it), you shall find
There’s no more difference in a tavern-haunter
Than is between a spital and a beggar.

THOM.  Thou work’st on him like tempests on a ship.

JOHN.  And he the worthy traffic that doth sink.

THOM.  Thou mak’st his name more loathesome than a grave.

JOHN.  Livest like a dog by vomit.

THOM.  Die a slave!