For I believe she’ll strive to mend our cheer.
Franklin. Why, there’s no better creatures in the world,
Than women are when they are in good humours.
Arden. Who is that? Mosbie? what, so familiar?
Injurious strumpet, and thou ribald knave,
Untwine those arms.
Alice. Ay, with a sugared kiss let them untwine. 80
Arden. Ah, Mosbie! perjured beast! bear this and all!
Mosbie. And yet no horned beast; the horns are thine.
Franklin. O monstrous! Nay, then it is time to draw.
Alice. Help, help! they murder my husband.
Here enters Will and Shakebag.
Shakebag. Zounds, who injures Master Mosbie? Help, Will! I am hurt.