Shakebag. Ay, in health towards Feversham, to shame us all.
Greene. The devil he is! why, sirs, how escaped he?
Shakebag. When we were ready to shoot, 140
Comes my Lord Cheiny to prevent his death.
Greene. The Lord of Heaven hath preserved him.
Will. Preserved a fig! The Lord Cheiny hath preserved him,
And bids him to a feast to his house at Shorlow.
But by the way once more I’ll meet with him,
And, if all the Cheinies in the world say no,
I’ll have a bullet in his breast to-morrow.
Therefore come, Greene, and let us to Feversham.
Greene. Ay, and excuse ourselves to Mistress Arden:
O, how she’ll chafe when she hears of this! 150
Shakebag. Why, I’ll warrant you she’ll think we dare
not do it.
Will. Why, then let us go, and tell her all the matter,
And plat the news to cut him off to-morrow.
III. vi. 144. Shorlow should be Shurland in Sheppey.