Mayor. I have the Council’s warrant to apprehend him.
Alice.—I am glad it is no worse.
Why, Master Mayor, think you I harbour any such?
Mayor. We are informed that here he is;
And therefore pardon us, for we must search.
Alice. Ay, search, and spare you not, through every room:
Were my husband at home, you would not offer this. 380
Here enters Franklin.
Master Franklin, what mean you come so sad?
Franklin. Arden, thy husband and my friend, is slain.
Alice. Ah, by whom? Master Franklin, can you tell?
Franklin. I know not; but behind the Abbey
There he lies murdered in most piteous case.
Mayor. But, Master Franklin, are you sure ’tis he?