BAR.  A comedy, a comedy!

WEN.  What’s the meaning of all this? is this the masque after thy marriage!

ILF.  O gentlemen, I am undone, I am undone, for I am married!  I, that could not abide a woman, but to make her a whore, hated all she-creatures, fair and poor; swore I would never marry but to one that was rich, and to be thus coney-catched!  Who do you think this is, gentlemen?

WEN.  Why, your wife; who should it be else?

ILF.  That’s my misfortune; that marrying her in hope she was rich, she proves to be the beggarly sister to the more beggarly Scarborow.

BAR.  How?

WEN.  Ha, ha, ha!

ILF.  Ay, you may laugh, but she shall cry as well as I for’t.

BAR.  Nay, do not weep.

WEN.  He does but counterfeit now to delude us.  He has all her portion of land, coin, plate, jewels, and now dissembles thus, lest we should borrow some money of him.

ILF.  And you be kind, gentlemen, lend me some; for, having paid the priest, I have not so much left in the world as will hire me a horse to carry me away from her.

BAR.  But art thou thus gulled, i’faith?

ILF.  Are you sure you have eyes in your head?

WEN.  Why, then, [it is] by her brother’s setting on, in my conscience; who knowing thee now to have somewhat to take to by the death of thy father, and that he hath spent her portion and his own possessions, hath laid this plot for thee to marry her, and so he to be rid of her himself.

ILF.  Nay, that’s without question; but I’ll be revenged of ’em both. 
For you, minx:—­nay, ’sfoot, give ’em me, or I’ll kick else.

SIS.  Good, sweet.

ILF.  Sweet with a pox! you stink in my nose, give me your jewels:  nay, bracelets too.

SIS.  O me most miserable!

ILF.  Out of my sight, ay, and out of my doors:  for now what’s within this house is mine; and for your brother, He made this match in hope to do you good, And I wear this, the[417] which shall draw his blood.

WEN.  A brave resolution.

BAR.  In which we’ll second thee.
                                [Exit with WENTLOE.

ILF.  Away, whore! out of my doors, whore!
          
                                   [Exit.

SIS.  O grief, that poverty should have that power to tear
Men from themselves, though they wed, bed, and swear.

       Enter THOMAS and JOHN SCARBOROW with BUTLER.

THOM.  How now, sister?

SIS.  Undone, undone!

BUT.  Why, mistress, how is’t? how is’t?

SIS.  My husband has forsook me.

BUT.  O perjury!

SIS.  Has ta’en my jewels and my bracelets from me.

THOM.  Vengeance, I played the thief for the money that bought ’em.

SIS.  Left me distressed, and thrust me forth o’ doors.

THOM.  Damnation on him!  I will hear no more. 
But for his wrong revenge me on my brother,
Degenerate, and was the curse of all,
He spent our portion, and I’ll see his fall.