Will. No, nor such a fool as will rather be hought than
get his way.
Ferryman. Why, sir, this is no Hough-Monday; you
are deceived.—What’s his name, I pray you, sir? 41
Shakebag. His name is Black Will.
Ferryman. I hope to see him one day hanged upon a
hill. [Exit Ferryman.
Shakebag. See how the sun hath cleared the foggy mist,
Now we have missed the mark of our intent.
Here enters Greene, Mosbie, and Alice.
Mosbie. Black Will and Shakebag, what make you here?
What, is the deed done? is Arden dead?
Will. What could a blinded man perform in arms?
Saw you not how till now the sky was dark, 50
That neither horse nor man could be discerned?
Yet did we hear their horses as they passed.
Greene. Have they escaped you, then, and passed the ferry?
Shakebag. Ay, for a while; but here we two will stay,
And at their coming back meet with them once more.
Zounds, I was ne’er so toiled in all my life
In following so slight a task as this.