Alice. But what of all this? how shall he be slain?
Mosbie. Why, Black Will and Shakebag locked within the counting-house
Shall at a certain watchword given rush forth.
Will. What shall the watchword be?
Mosbie. ‘Now I take you’; that shall be the word: 110
But come not forth before in any case.
Will. I warrant you. But who shall lock me in?
Alice. That will I do; thou’st keep the key thyself.
Mosbie. Come, Master Greene, go you along with me.
See all things ready, Alice, against we come.
Alice. Take no care for that; send you him home.
And if he e’er go forth again, blame me.
Come, Black Will, that in mine eyes art fair;
Next unto Mosbie do I honour thee;
Instead of fair words and large promises 120
My hands shall play you golden harmony:
How like you this? say, will you do it, sirs?