Will. Nay, and there be such cheer, we will bid ourselves.—
Mistress Arden, Dick Greene and I do mean to sup with you.
Alice. And welcome shall you be. Ah, gentlemen,
How missed you of your purpose yesternight?
Greene. ’Twas ’long of Shakebag, that unlucky villain.
Shakebag. Thou dost me wrong; I did as much as any.
Will. Nay then, Mistress Arden, I’ll tell you how it was:
When he should have locked with both his hilts,
He in a bravery flourished o’er his head;
With that comes Franklin at him lustily, 60
And hurts the slave; with that he slinks away.
Now his way had been to have come hand and feet,
one and two round, at his costard; he like a fool
bears his sword-point half a yard out of danger.
I lie here for my life; if the devil come, and he
have no more strength than I have fence, he shall
never beat me from this ward, I’ll stand to it; a
buckler in a skilful hand is as good as a castle;
nay, ’tis better than a sconce, for I have tried it. 70
Mosbie, perceiving this, began to faint:
With that comes Arden with his arming sword,
And thrust him through the shoulder in a trice.
Alice. Ay, but I wonder why you both stood still.
Will. Faith, I was so amazed, I could not strike.
Alice. Ah, sirs, had he yesternight been slain,
For every drop of his detested blood
I would have crammed in angels in thy fist,
And kissed thee, too, and hugged thee in my arms.
Will. Patient yourself, we cannot help it now. 80
Greene and we two will dog him through the fair,
And stab him in the crowd, and steal away.