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Michael. As true as I report it to be true.

Shakebag. Then, Michael, this shall be your penance,

To feast us all at the Salutation,

Where we will plat our purpose thoroughly.

Greene. And, Michael, you shall bear no news of this tide.

Because they two may be in Rainham Down

Before your master.

Michael. Why, I'll agree to anything you 'll have me.

So you will except of my company.

Exeunt.

SCENE V

Arden's House at Feversham.

Here enters Mosbie.

Mosbie. Disturbed thoughts drives me from company

And dries my marrow with their watchfulness ;

Continual trouble of my moody brain

Feebles my body by excess of drink,

And nips me as the bitter north-east wind

Doth check the tender blossoms in the spring.

Well fares the man, howe'er his cates do taste,

That tables not with foul suspicion ;

And he but pines amongst his delicates.

Whose troubled mind is stuffed with discontent. lO

My golden time was when I had no gold ;

Though then I wanted, yet I slept secure ;

My daily toil begat me night's repose.

My night's repose made daylight fresh to me.

But since I climbed the top-bough of the tree

And sought to build my nest among the clouds.

Each gentle stirry gale doth shake my bed.

And makes me dread my downfall to the earth.

But whither doth contemplation carry me ?

The way I seek to find, where pleasure dwells,

Is hedged behind me that I cannot back,

But needs must on, although to danger's gate.

Then, Arden, perish thou by that decree ;

For Greene doth ear the land and weed thee up

To make my harvest nothing but pure corn.

And for his pains I'll hive him up a while,

And after smother him to have his wax :

Such bees as Greene must never live to sting.

Then is there Michael and the painter too,

Chief actors to Arden's overthrow ;

Who when they shall see me sit in Arden's seat,

They will insult upon me for my meed.

Or fright me by detecting of his end.

I'll none of that, for I can cast a bone

To make these curs pluck out each other's throat.

And then am I sole ruler of mine own.

Yet Mistress Arden lives ; but she's myself,

And holy Church rites makes us two but one.

But what for that ? I may not trust you, Alice :

You have supplanted Arden for my sake,

And will extirpen me to plant another.

'Tis fearful sleeping in a serpent's bed,

And I will cleanly rid my hands of her.

Here enters Alice.

But here she comes, and I must flatter her.

— How now, Alice ? what, sad and passionate ?

Make me partaker of thy pensiveness :

Fire divided burns with lesser force.

Alice. But I will dam that fire in my breast

Till by the force thereof my part consume.

Ah, Mosbie !

Mosbie. Such deep pathaires, like to a cannon's burst

Discharged against a ruinated wall,

Breaks my relenting heart in thousand pieces.

Ungentle Alice, thy sorrow is my sore ;

Thou know'st it well, and 'tis thy policy

To forge distressful looks to wound a breast

Where lies a heart that dies when thou art sad.

It is not love that loves to anger love.

Alice. It is not love that loves to murder love.

Mosbie. How mean you that ?

Alice. Thou knowest how dearly Arden loved me.

Mosbie. And then ?

Alice. And then — conceal the rest, for 'tis too bad,

Lest that my words be carried with the wind,

And published in the world to both our shames.

I pray thee, Mosbie, let our springtime wither ;

Our harvest else will yield but loathsome weeds.

Forget, I pray thee, what hath passed betwin us,

For how I blush and tremble at the thoughts !

Mosbie. What ? are you changed ?

Alice. Ay, to my former happy life again,

From title of an odious strumpet's name

To honest Arden's wife, not Arden's honest wife.

Ha, Mosbie ! 'tis thou has rifled me of that

And made me slanderous to all my kin ;

Even in my forehead is thy name ingraven,

A mean artificer, that low-born name.

I was bewitched : woe worth the hapless hour

And all the causes that enchanted me !

Mosbie. Nay, if you ban, let me breathe curses forth,

And if you stand so nicely at your fame.

Let me repent the credit I have lost.

I have