Mosbie. It is unpossible, for I have sworn 430
Never hereafter to solicit thee,
Or, whilst he lives, once more importune thee.
Alice. Thou shalt not need, I will importune thee.
What? shall an oath make thee forsake my love?
As if I have not sworn as much myself
And given my hand unto him in the church!
Tush, Mosbie; oaths are words, and words is wind,
And wind is mutable: then, I conclude,
’Tis childishness to stand upon an oath.
Mosbie. Well proved, Mistress Alice; yet by your leave 440
I’ll keep mine unbroken whilst he lives.
Alice. Ay, do, and spare not, his time is but short;
For if thou beest as resolute as I,
We’ll have him murdered as he walks the streets.
In London many alehouse ruffians keep,
Which, as I hear, will murder men for gold.
They shall be soundly fee’d to pay him home.
Here enters Greene.
Mosbie. Alice, what’s he that comes yonder? knowest thou him?
Alice. Mosbie, be gone: I hope ’tis one that comes
To put in practice our intended drifts. 450
[Exit Mosbie
Greene. Mistress Arden, you are well met.
I am sorry that your husband is from home,
Whenas my purposed journey was to him:
Yet all my labour is not spent in vain,
For I suppose that you can full discourse
And flat resolve me of the thing I seek.
Alice. What is it, Master Greene? If that I may
Or can with safety, I will answer you.