Mosbie. I may thank you, Mistress Arden, for this wound.
[Exeunt Mosbie, Will, and Shakebag.
Alice. Ah, Arden, what folly blinded thee?
Ah, jealous harebrained man, what hast thou done!
When we, to welcome thee with intended sport,
Came lovingly to meet thee on thy way, 90
Thou drew’st thy sword, enraged with jealousy,
And hurt thy friend whose thoughts were free from harm:
All for a worthless kiss and joining arms,
Both done but merrily to try thy patience.
And me unhappy that devised the jest,
Which, though begun in sport, yet ends in blood!
Franklin. Marry, God defend me from such a jest!
Alice. Could’st thou not see us friendly smile on thee,
When we joined arms, and when I kissed his cheek?
Hast thou not lately found me over-kind? 100
Did’st thou not hear me cry ‘they murder thee’?
Called I not help to set my husband free?
No, ears and all were witched; ah me accursed
To link in liking with a frantic man!
Henceforth I’ll be thy slave, no more thy wife,
For with that name I never shall content thee.
If I be merry, thou straightways thinks me light;
If sad, thou sayest the sullens trouble me;
If well attired, thou thinks I will be gadding;
If homely, I seem sluttish in thine eye: 110
Thus am I still, and shall be while I die.
Poor wench abused by thy misgovernment!
Arden. But is it for truth that neither thou nor he
Intendedst malice in your misdemeanour?
Alice. The heavens can witness of our harmless thoughts
Arden. Then pardon me, sweet Alice, and forgive this fault!
Forget but this and never see the like.
Impose me penance, and I will perform it,
For in thy discontent I find a death,—
A death tormenting more than death itself. 120
Alice. Nay, had’st thou loved me as thou dost pretend,
Thou wouldst have marked the speeches of thy friend,
Who going wounded from the place, he said
His skin was pierced only through my device;
And if sad sorrow taint thee for this fault,
Thou would’st have followed him, and seen him dressed,
And cried him mercy whom thou hast misdone:
Ne’er shall my heart be eased till this be done.
Arden. Content thee, sweet Alice, thou shalt have thy will,
Whate’er it be. For that I injured thee, 130
And wronged my friend, shame scourgeth my offence;
Come thou thyself, and go along with me,
And be a mediator ’twixt us two.