Alice. Come, Susan, help to lift his body forth,
And let our salt tears be his obsequies.
Here enters Mosbie and Greene.
Mosbie. How now, Alice, whither will you bear him?
Alice. Sweet Mosbie, art thou come? Then weep that will:
I have my wish in that I joy thy sight. 342
Greene. Well, it behoves us to be circumspect.
Mosbie. Ay, for Franklin thinks that we have murdered him.
Alice. Ay, but he cannot prove it for his life.
We’ll spend this night in dalliance and in sport.
Here enters Michael.
Michael. O mistress, the Mayor and all the watch
Are coming towards our house with glaives and bills.
Alice. Make the door fast; let them not come in.