As for the lands, Mosbie, they are mine
By letters patents from his Majesty.
But I must have a mandate for my wife;
They say you seek to rob me of her love:
Villain, what makes thou in her company?
She’s no companion for so base a groom.
Mosbie. Arden, I thought not on her, I came to thee;
But rather than I pocket up this wrong——
Franklin. What will you do, sir?
Mosbie. Revenge it on the proudest of you both. 310
[Then Arden draws forth Mosbie’s sword.
Arden. So, sirrah; you may not wear a sword,
The statute makes against artificers;
I warrant that I do. Now use your bodkin,
Your Spanish needle, and your pressing iron,
For this shall go with me; and mark my words,
You goodman botcher, ’tis to you I speak:
The next time that I take thee near my house,
Instead of legs I’ll make thee crawl on stumps.
Mosbie. Ah, Master Arden, you have injured me:
I do appeal to God and to the world. 320
Franklin. Why, canst thou deny thou wert a botcher once?
Mosbie. Measure me what I am, not what I was.
Arden. Why, what art thou now but a velvet drudge,
A cheating steward, and base-minded peasant?