Alice. I did it for the best.
Mosbie. Well, seeing ’tis done, cheerly let it pass.
You know this Greene; is he not religious?
A man, I guess, of great devotion?
Alice. He is.
Mosbie. Then, sweet Alice, let it pass: I have a drift 590
Will quiet all, whatever is amiss.
Here enters Clarke and Susan.
Alice. How now, Clarke? have you found me false?
Did I not plead the matter hard for you?
Clarke. You did.
Mosbie. And what? wilt be a match?
Clarke. A match, i’ faith, sir: ay, the day is mine.
The painter lays his colours to the life,
His pencil draws no shadows in his love.
Susan is mine.
Alice. You make her blush. 600