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When I would fleece the wealthy passenger.

But lie and languish in a loathsome den.

Hated and spit at by the goers-by,

And in that death may die unpitied.

If I, the next time that I meet the slave,

Cut not the nose from off the coward's face

And trample on it for this villainy.

Will. Come, let 's go seek out Greene ; I know he 'll swear.

Shakebag. He were a villain, an he would not swear.

'Twould make a peasant swear among his boys,

That ne'er durst say before but ' yea ' and ' no,'

To be thus flouted of a coistril.

Will. Shakebag, let's seek out Greene, and in the morning

At the alehouse butting Arden's house

Watch the out-coming of that prick-eared cur.

And then let me alone to handle him.

Exeunt.

SCENE III

Room in Franklin's house as before.

Here enters Arden Franklin and Michael

Arden. Sirrah, get you back to Billingsgate

And learn what time the tide will serve our turn ;

Come to us in Paul's. First go make the bed,

And afterwards go hearken for the flood.

Exit Michael.

Come, Master Franklin, you shall go with me.

This night I dreamt that, being in a park,

A toil was pitched to overthrow the deer.

And I upon a little rising hill

Stood whistly watching for the herd's approach.

Even there, methoughts, a gentle slumber took me,

And summoned all my parts to sweet repose;

But in the pleasure of this golden rest

An ill-thewed foster had removed the toil,

And rounded me with that beguiling home

Which late, methought, was pitched to cast the deer.

With that he blew an evil-sounding horn,

And at the noise another herdman came.

With falchion drawn, and bent it at my breast,

Crying aloud, ' Thou art the game we seek ! '

With this I woke and trembled every joint,

Like one obscured in alittle bush,

That sees a lion foraging about,

And, when the dreadful forest-king is gone,

He pries about with timorous suspect

Throughout the thorny casements of the brake,

And will not think his person dangerless.

But quakes and shivers, though the cause be gone:

So, trust me, Franklin, when I did awake,

I stood in doubt whether I waked or no :

Such great impression took this fond surprise.

God grant this vision bedeem me any good.

Franklin. This fantasy doth rise from Michael's fear.

Who being awaked with the noise he made.

His troubled senses yet could take no rest ;

And this, I warrant you, procured your dream.

Arden. It may be so, God frame it to the best :

But oftentimes my dreams presage too true.

Franklin. To such as note their nightly fantasies,

Some one in twenty may incur belief;

But use it not, 'tis but a mockery. 40

Arden. Come, Master Franklin ; we'll now walk in Paul's

And dine together at the ordinary.

And by my man's direction draw to the quay,

And with the tide go down to Feversham.

Say, Master Franklin, shall it not be so ?

Franklin. At your good pleasure, sir ; I'll bear you company.

Exeunt.

SCENE IV

A Idersgate.

Here enters Michael at the door.

Here enters Greene, Will, and Shakebag at another door.

Will. Draw, Shakebag, for here 's that villain Michael.

Greene. First, Will, let 's hear what he can say.

Will. Speak, milksop slave, and never after speak.

Michael. For God's sake, sirs, let me excuse myself:

For here I swear, by heaven and earth and all,

I did perform the utmost of my task.

And left the doors unbolted and unlocked.

But see the chance : Franklin and my master

Were very late conferring in the porch,

And Franklin left his napkin where he sat

With certain gold knit in it, as he said.

Being in bed, he did bethink himself,

And coming down he found the doors unshut :

He locked the gates, and brought away the keys,

For which offence my master rated me.

But now I am going to see what flood it is,

For with the tide my master will away ;

Where you may front him well on Rainham Down,

A place well-fitting such a stratagem.

Will. Your excuse hath somewhat mollified my choler.

Why now, Greene, 'tis better now nor e'er it was.

Greene. But, Michael, is this true?