Will. Ay, and that bravely, too. Mark my device:
Place Mosbie, being a stranger, in a chair,
And let your husband sit upon a stool,
That I may come behind him cunningly,
And with a towel pull him to the ground,
Then stab him till his flesh be as a sieve;
That done, bear him behind the Abbey,
That those that find him murdered may suppose 130
Some slave or other killed him for his gold.
Alice. A fine device! you shall have twenty pound,
And, when he is dead, you shall have forty more,
And, lest you might be suspected staying here,
Michael shall saddle you two lusty geldings;
Ride whither you will, to Scotland, or to Wales,
I’ll see you shall not lack, where’er you be.
Will. Such words would make one kill a thousand men!
Give me the key: which is the counting-house?
Alice. Here would I stay and still encourage you; 140
But that I know how resolute you are.
Shakebag. Tush, you are too faint-hearted; we must do it.
Alice. But Mosbie will be there, whose very looks
Will add unwonted courage to my thought,
And make me the first that shall adventure on him.
Will. Tush, get you gone; ’tis we must do the deed.
When this door opens next, look for his death.
[Exeunt Will and Shakebag.
Alice. Ah, would he now were here that it might open!
I shall no more be closed in Arden’s arms,
That like the snakes of black Tisiphone 150
Sting me with their embracings! Mosbie’s arms
Shall compass me, and, were I made a star,
I would have none other spheres but those.
There is no nectar but in Mosbie’s lips!
Had chaste Diana kissed him, she like me
Would grow love-sick, and from her watery bower
Fling down Endymion and snatch him up:
Then blame not me that slay a silly man
Not half so lovely as Endymion.
Here enters Michael.