L. Cheiny. Will you come to-morrow and dine with me,
And bring your honest friend along with you?
I have divers matters to talk with you about.
Arden. To-morrow we’ll wait upon your honour.
L. Cheiny. One of you stay my horse at the top of the hill.
—What! Black Will? for whose purse wait you?
Thou wilt be hanged in Kent, when all is done.
Will. Not hanged, God save your honour;
I am your bedesman, bound to pray for you. 120
L. Cheiny. I think thou ne’er said’st prayer in all thy life.—
One of you give him a crown:—
And, sirrah, leave this kind of life;
If thou beest tainted for a penny-matter,
And come in question, surely thou wilt truss.
—Come, Master Arden, let us be going;
Your way and mine lies four miles together.
[Exeunt. Manet Black Will and Shakebag.
Will. The devil break all your necks at four miles’ end!
Zounds, I could kill myself for very anger!
His lordship chops me in, 130
Even when my dag was levelled at his heart.
I would his crown were molten down his throat.
Shakebag. Arden, thou hast wondrous holy luck.
Did ever man escape as thou hast done?
Well, I’ll discharge my pistol at the sky,
For by this bullet Arden might not die.
Here enters Greene.
Greene. What, is he down? is he dispatched?