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(Yet not the son, I will not call him son)

Of him I was about to call his father—

Hath heard your praises, and this night he means

To burn the lodging where you use to lie,

And you within it. If he fail of that,

He will have other means to cut you off;

I overheard him, and his practices.

This is no place, this house is but a butchery;

Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

[Orl.]

Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?

Adam.

No matter whither, so you come not here.

Orl.

What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food?

Or with a base and boist’rous sword enforce

A thievish living on the common road?

This I must do, or know not what to do;

Yet this I will not do, do how I can.

I rather will subject me to the malice

Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.

Adam.

But do not so. I have five hundred crowns,

The thrifty hire I sav’d under your father,

Which I did store to be my foster-nurse,

When service should in my old limbs lie lame,

And unregarded age in corners thrown.

Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed,