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That would have stated me above thy state,

Forslowed advantages, and spurned at time :

Ay, Fortune's right hand Mosbie hath forsook

To take a wanton giglot by the left.

I left the marriage of an honest maid.

Whose dowry would have weighed down all thy wealth.

Whose beauty and demeanour far exceeded thee :

This certain good I lost for changing bad.

And wrapt my credit in thy company.

I was bewitched, — that is no theme of thine.

And thou unhallowed has enchanted me.

But I will break thy spells and exorcisms,

And put another sight upon these eyes

That showed my heart a raven for a dove.

Thou art not fair, I viewed thee not till now ;

Thou art not kind, till now I knew thee not ;

And now the rain hath beaten off thy gilt,

Thy worthless copper shows thee counterfeit

It grieves me not to see how foul thou art,

But mads me that ever I thought thee fair.

Go, get thee gone, a copesmate for thy hinds ;

I am too good to be thy favourite.

Alice. Ay, now I see, and too soon find it true,

Which often hath been told me by my friends,

That Mosbie loves me not but for my wealth.

Which too incredulous I ne'er believed.

Nay, hear me speak, Mosbie, a word or two ; lo

I'll bite my tongue if it speak bitterly.

Look on me, Mosbie, or I'll kill myself:

Nothing shall hide me from thy stormy look.

If thou cry war, there is no peace for me ;

I will do penance for offending thee.

And burn this prayer-book, where I here use

The holy word that had converted me.

See, Mosbie, I v/ill tear away the leaves,

And all the leaves, and in this golden cover

Shall thy sweet phrases and thy letters dwell ;

And thereon will I chiefly meditate.

And hold no other sect but such devotion.

Wilt thou not look ? is all thy love o'erwhelmed ?

Wilt thou not hear? What malice stops thine ears?

Why speaks thou not ? what silence ties thy tongue ?

Thou hast been sighted as the eagle is.

And heard as quickly as the fearful hare,

And spoke as smoothly as an orator,

When I have bid thee hear or see or speak,

And art thou sensible in none of these?

Weigh all thy good turns with this little fault,

And I deserve not Mosbie's muddy looks.

A fence of trouble is not thickened still :

Be clear again, I'll ne'er more trouble thee.

Mosbie. O no, I am a base artificer :

My wings are feathered for a lowly flight.

Mosbie ? fie ! no, not for a thousand pound.

Make love to you "i why, 'tis unpardonable ;

We beggars must not breathe where gentles are.

Alice. Sweet Mosbie is as gentle as a king,

And I too blind to judge him otherwise.

Flowers do sometimes spring in fallow lands,

Weeds in gardens, roses grow on thorns ;

So, whatsoe'er my Mosbie's father was.

Himself is valued gentle by his worth.

Mosbie. Ah, how you women can insinuate,

And clear a trespass with your sweet-set tongue !

I will forget this quarrel, gentle Alice,

Provided I'll be tempted so no more.

Here enters Bradshaw.

Alice. Then with thy lips seal up this new-made match.

Mosbie. Soft, Alice, here comes somebody.

Alice. How now, Bradshaw, what 's the news with you?

Bradshaw. I have little news, but here 's a letter

That Master Greene importuned me to give you.

Alice. Go in, Bradshaw ; call for a cup of beer ;

'Tis almost supper-time, thou shalt stay with us.

Exit Bradshaw.

Then she reads the letter.

We have missed of our purpose at London, but shall

perform it by the way. We thank our neighbour

Bradshaw. — Yours, Richard Greene.

How likes my love the tenor of this letter ?

Mosbie. Well, were his date completed and expired.

Alice. Ah, would it were ! Then comes my happy hour :

Till then my bliss is mixed with bitter gall.

Come, let us in to shun suspicion.

Mosbie. Ay, to the gates of death to follow thee. \Exeunt.

SCENE VI

Country near Rochester.

Here enters Greene Will and Shakebag.

Shakebag. Come, Will, see thy tools be in a readiness !

Is not thy powder dank, or will thy flint strike fire ?

Will. Then ask me if my nose be on my face,

Or whether my tongue be frozen in my mouth.