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.

SCAR.  And this divine did marry me,
Whose tongue should be the key to open truth,
As God’s ambassador.  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].