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Arden. Content.

Then they play at the tables. Enter Will and Shakebag.

Will. — Can he not take him yet? what a spite is that?

Alice. — Not yet, Will ; take heed he see thee not.

Will. — I fear he will spy me as I am coming.

Michael. — To prevent that, creep betwixt my legs.

Mosbie. One ace, or else I lose the game.

Arden. Marry, sir, there 's two for failing.

Mosbie. Ah, Master Arden, ' now I can take you.'

When Will pulls him down with a towel.

Arden. Mosbie ! Michael ! Alice ! what will you do ?

Will. Nothing but take you up, sir, nothing else.

Mosbie. There 's for the pressing iron you told me of.

Stabs kim.

Shakebag. And there 's for the ten pound in my sleeve.

Stabs him.

Alice. What ! groans thou ? nay, then give me the weapon !

Take this for hindering Mosbie's love and mine.

She stabs him.

Michael. O, mistress !

Will. Ah, that villain will betray us all.

Mosbie. Tush, fear him not ; he will be secret.

Michael. Why, dost thou think I will betray myself?

Shakebag. In Southwark dwells a bonny northern lass,

The widow Chambly ; I'll to her house now,

And if she will not give me harborough,

I'll make booty of the quean even to her smock.

Will. Shift for yourselves ; we two will leave you now.

Alice. First lay the body in the counting-house.

Then they lay the body in the Counting-house.

Will. We have our gold ; Mistress Alice, adieu ;

Mosbie, farewell, and Michael, farewell too.

Exeunt.

Enter Susan.

Susan. Mistress, the guests are at the doors.

Hearken, they knock : what, shall I let them in ?

Alice. Mosbie, go thou and bear them company.

Exit Mosbie.

And, Susan, fetch water and wash away this blood.

Susan. The blood cleaveth to the ground and will not out.

Alice. But with my nails I'll scrape away the blood ; —

The more I strive, the more the blood appears !

Susan. What's the reason, Mistress, can you tell ?

Alice. Because I blush not at my husband's death.

Here enters Mosbie.

Mosbie. How now ? what 's the matter ? is all well ?

Alice. Ay, well, if Arden were alive again.

In vain we strive, for here his blood remains.

Mosbie. Why, strew rushes on it, can you not ?

This wench doth nothing : fall unto the work.

Alice. 'Twas thou that made me murder him.

Mosbie. What of that ?

Alice. Nay, nothing, Mosbie, so it be not known.

Mosbie. Keep thou it close, and 'tis unpossible.

Alice. Ah, but I cannot ! was he not slain by me?

My husband's death torments me at the heart.

Mosbie. It shall not long torment thee, gentle Alice ;

I am thy husband, think no more of him.

Here enters Adam Fowle and Bradshaw.

Bradshaw. How now, Mistress Arden? what ail you weep?

Mosbie. Because her husband is abroad so late.

A couple of ruffians threatened him yesternight.

And she, poor soul, is afraid he should be hurt.

Adam. Is 't nothing else ? tush, he'll be here anon.

Here enters Greene.

Greene. Now, Mistress Arden, lack you any guests ?

Alice. Ah, Master Greene, did you see my husband lately?

Greene. I saw him walking behind the Abbey even now.

Here enters Franklin.

Alice. I do not like this being out so late. —

Master Franklin, where did you leave my husband ?

Franklin. Believe me I saw him not since morning.

Fear you not, he'll come anon ; meantime

You may do well to bid his guests sit down.

Alice. Ay, so they shall ; Master Bradshaw, sit you there ;

I pray you, be content, I'll have my will.

Master Mosbie, sit you in my husband's seat.

Michael. — Susan, shall thou and I wait on them ?

Or, an thou sayest the word, let us sit down too.

Susan. — Peace, we have other matters now in hand.

I fear me, Michael, all will be bewrayed.

Michael. — Tush, so it be known that I shall marry thee

in the morning, I care not though I be hanged ere

night. But to prevent the worst, I'll buy some ratsbane.

Susan. — Why, Michael, wilt thou poison thyself?

Michael. — No, but my mistress, for I fear she'll tell.

Susan. — Tush,