Greene. Will you keep promise with me?
Alice. Or count me false and perjured whilst I live.
Greene. Then here’s my hand, I’ll have him so dispatched.
I’ll up to London straight, I’ll thither post, 530
And never rest till I have compassed it.
Till then farewell.
Alice. Good fortune follow all your forward thoughts.
[Exit Greene.
And whosoever doth attempt the deed,
A happy hand I wish, and so farewell.—
All this goes well: Mosbie, I long for thee
To let thee know all that I have contrived.
Here enters Mosbie and Clarke.
Mosbie. How, now, Alice, what’s the news?
Alice. Such as will content thee well, sweetheart.
Mosbie. Well, let them pass a while, and tell me, Alice,
How have you dealt and tempered with my sister?
What, will she have my neighbour Clarke, or no?