‘My duty remembered, Mistress Susan, hoping in God
you be in good health, as I Michael was at the
making hereof. This is to certify you that as the
turtle true, when she hath lost her mate, sitteth
alone, so I, mourning for your absence, do walk
up and down Paul’s till one day I fell asleep and
lost my master’s pantofles. Ah, Mistress Susan,
abolish that paltry painter, cut him off by the
shins with a frowning look of your crabbed countenance,
and think upon Michael, who, drunk with
the dregs of your favour, will cleave as fast to your
love as a plaster of pitch to a galled horse-back.
Thus hoping you will let my passions penetrate, or
rather impetrate mercy of your meek hands, I end.
‘Yours, Michael, or else not Michael.’
Arden. Why, you paltry knave,
Stand you here loitering, knowing my affairs,
What haste my business craves to send to Kent? 20
Franklin. Faith, friend Michael, this is very ill,
Knowing your master hath no more but you,
And do ye slack his business for your own?
Arden. Where is the letter, sirrah? let me see it.
[Then he gives him the letter.
See, Master Franklin, here’s proper stuff:
Susan my maid, the painter, and my man,
A crew of harlots, all in love, forsooth;
Sirrah, let me hear no more of this,
Nor for thy life once write to her a word.
Here enters Greene, Will, and Shakebag.
Wilt thou be married to so base a trull? 30
’Tis Mosbie’s sister: come I once at home,
I’ll rouse her from remaining in my house.
Now, Master Franklin, let us go walk in Paul’s;
Come but a turn or two, and then away.
[Exeunt.