Will. Tush, I have broken five hundred oaths!
But wouldst thou charm me to effect this deed,
Tell me of gold, my resolution’s fee;
Say thou seest Mosbie kneeling at my knees,
Offering me service for my high attempt,
And sweet Alice Arden, with a lap of crowns,
Comes with a lowly curtsey to the earth,
Saying ‘Take this but for thy quarterage,
Such yearly tribute will I answer thee.’
Why, this would steel soft-mettled cowardice, 100
With which Black Will was never tainted yet.
I tell thee, Greene, the forlorn traveller,
Whose lips are glued with summer’s parching heat,
Ne’er longed so much to see a running brook
As I to finish Arden’s tragedy.
Seest thou this gore that cleaveth to my face?
From hence ne’er will I wash this bloody stain,
Till Arden’s heart be panting in my hand.
Greene. Why, that’s well said; but what saith Shakebag?
Shakebag. I cannot paint my valour out with words: 110
But, give me place and opportunity,
Such mercy as the starven lioness,
When she is dry sucked of her eager young,
Shows to the prey that next encounters her,
On Arden so much pity would I take.
Greene. So should it fare with men of firm resolve.
And now, sirs, seeing that this accident
Of meeting him in Paul’s hath no success,
Let us bethink us of some other place
Whose earth may swallow up this Arden’s blood.
Here enters Michael.
See, yonder comes his man: and wot you what? 121
The foolish knave’s in love with Mosbie’s sister,
And for her sake, whose love he cannot get
Unless Mosbie solicit his suit,
The villain hath sworn the slaughter of his master.
We’ll question him, for he may stead us much,—
How now, Michael, whither are you going?
Michael. My master hath new supped,
And I am going to prepare his chamber.
Greene. Where supped Master Arden? 130
Michael. At the Nag’s Head, at the eighteen pence
ordinary. How now, Master Shakebag? what,
Black Will! God’s dear lady, how chance your
face is so bloody?
Will. Go to, sirrah, there is a chance in it; this sauciness
in you will make you be knocked.