SCENE I

_A Street in Feversham._

_Here enters Will, Shakebag, and Greene._

_Will._ Sirrah Greene, when was I so long in killing a man?

_Greene._ I think we shall never do it; let us give it over.

_Shakebag._ Nay, Zounds! we’ll kill him, though we be hanged at his door for our labour.

_Will._ Thou knowest, Greene, that I have lived in London this twelve years, where I have made some go upon wooden legs for taking the wall on me; divers with silver noses for saying ‘There goes Black Will!’ I have cracked as many blades as thou hast nuts.

_Greene._ O monstrous lie! 10

_Will._ Faith, in a manner I have. The bawdy-houses have paid me tribute; there durst not a whore set up, unless she have agreed with me first for opening her shop-windows. For a cross word of a tapster I have pierced one barrel after another with my dagger, and held him by the ears till all his beer hath run out. In Thames Street a brewer’s cart was like to have run over me: I made no more ado, but went to the clerk and cut all the notches of his tallies and beat them about his head. I and my company have taken the constable from his watch, and carried him about the fields on a coltstaff. I have broken a sergeant’s head with his own mace, and bailed whom I list with my sword and buckler. All the tenpenny-alehouses-men would stand every morning with a quart-pot in their hand, saying, ‘Will it please your worship drink?’ He that had not done so, had been sure to have had his sign pulled down and his lattice borne away the next night. To conclude, what have I not done? yet cannot do this; doubtless, he is preserved by miracle. 32

_Here enters Alice and Michael._

_Greene._ Hence, Will! here comes Mistress Arden.

_Alice._ Ah, gentle Michael, art thou sure they’re friends?

_Michael._ Why, I saw them when they both shook hands. When Mosbie bled, he even wept for sorrow, And railed on Franklin that was cause of all. No sooner came the surgeon in at doors, But my master took to his purse and gave him money, And, to conclude, sent me to bring you word 40 That Mosbie, Franklin, Bradshaw, Adam Fowle, With divers of his neighbours and his friends, Will come and sup with you at our house this night.

_Alice._ Ah, gentle Michael, run thou back again, And, when my husband walks into the fair, Bid Mosbie steal from him and come to me; And this night shall thou and Susan be made sure.

_Michael._ I’ll go tell him.

_Alice._ And as thou goest, tell John cook of our guests, And bid him lay it on, spare for no cost. 50

[_Exit Michael._

_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.

_Here enters Mosbie._

_Alice._ It is unpossible; but here comes he That will, I hope, invent some surer means. Sweet Mosbie, hide thy arm, it kills my heart.

_Mosbie._ Ay, Mistress Arden, this is your favour.

_Alice._ Ah, say not so; for when I saw thee hurt, I could have took the weapon thou let’st fall, And run at Arden; for I have sworn That these mine eyes, offended with his sight, 90 Shall never close till Arden’s be shut up. This night I rose and walked about the chamber, And twice or thrice I thought to have murdered him.

_Mosbie_. What, in the night? then had we been undone.

_Alice._ Why, how long shall he live?

_Mosbie._ Faith, Alice, no longer than this night.-- Black Will and Shakebag, will you two perform The complot that I have laid?

_Will._ Ay, or else think me a villain.

_Greene._ And rather than you shall want, I’ll help myself.

_Mosbie._ You, Master Greene, shall single Franklin forth, And hold him with a long tale of strange news, 102 That he may not come home till supper-time. I’ll fetch Master Arden home, and we like friends Will play a game or two at tables here.

_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.

[_Exeunt Mosbie and Greene._

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?

_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._

_Michael._ Mistress, my master is coming hard by. 160

_Alice._ Who comes with him?

_Michael._ Nobody but Mosbie.

_Alice._ That’s well, Michael. Fetch in the tables, and when thou hast done, stand before the counting-house door.

_Michael._ Why so?

_Alice._ Black Will is locked within to do the deed.

_Michael._ What? shall he die to-night?

_Alice._ Ay, Michael.

_Michael._ But shall not Susan know it?

_Alice._ Yes, for she’ll be as secret as ourselves. 170

_Michael._ That’s brave. I’ll go fetch the tables.

Alice. But, Michael, hark to me a word or two: When my husband is come in, lock the street-door; He shall be murdered, or the guests come in.

[_Exit Michael._

_Here enters Arden and Mosbie._

Husband, what mean you to bring Mosbie home? Although I wished you to be reconciled, ’Twas more for fear of you than love of him. Black Will and Greene are his companions, And they are cutters, and may cut you short: Therefore I thought it good to make you friends. 180 But wherefore do you bring him hither now? You have given me my supper with his sight.

_Mosbie._ Master Arden, methinks your wife would have me gone.

_Arden._ No, good Master Mosbie; women will be prating. Alice, bid him welcome; he and I are friends.

_Alice._ You may enforce me to it, if you will; But I had rather die than bid him welcome. His company hath purchased me ill friends, And therefore will I ne’er frequent it more.

_Mosbie._--Oh, how cunningly she can dissemble! 190

_Arden._ Now he is here, you will not serve me so.

_Alice._ I pray you be not angry or displeased; I’ll bid him welcome, seeing you’ll have it so. You are welcome, Master Mosbie; will you sit down?

_Mosbie._ I know I am welcome to your loving husband; But for yourself, you speak not from your heart.

_Alice._ And if I do not, sir, think I have cause.

_Mosbie._ Pardon me, Master Arden; I’ll away.

_Arden._ No, good Master Mosbie.

_Alice._ We shall have guests enough, though you go hence. 200

_Mosbie._ I pray you, Master Arden, let me go.

_Arden._ I pray thee, Mosbie, let her prate her fill.

_Alice._ The doors are open, sir, you may be gone.

_Michael._--Nay, that’s a lie, for I have locked the doors.

_Arden._ Sirrah, fetch me a cup of wine, I’ll make them friends. And, gentle Mistress Alice, seeing you are so stout, You shall begin! frown not, I’ll have it so.

_Alice._ I pray you meddle with that you have to do.

_Arden._ Why, Alice! how can I do too much for him Whose life I have endangered without cause? 210

_Alice._ ’Tis true; and, seeing ’twas partly through my means, I am content to drink to him for this once. Here, Master Mosbie! and I pray you, henceforth Be you as strange to me as I to you. Your company hath purchased me ill friends, And I for you, God knows, have undeserved Been ill spoken of in every place; Therefore henceforth frequent my house no more.

_Mosbie._ I’ll see your husband in despite of you. Yet, Arden, I protest to thee by heaven, 220 Thou ne’er shalt see me more after this night, I’ll go to Rome rather than be forsworn.

_Arden._ Tush, I’ll have no such vows made in my house.

_Alice._ Yes, I pray you, husband, let him swear; And, on that condition, Mosbie, pledge me here.

_Mosbie._ Ay, as willingly as I mean to live.

_Arden._ Come, Alice, is our supper ready yet?

_Alice._ It will by then you have played a game at tables.

_Arden._ Come, Master Mosbie, what shall we play for?

_Mosbie._ Three games for a French crown, sir, and please you. 230

_Arden._ Content.

[_Then they play at the tables. Enter Will and Shakebag._

_Will._--Can he not take him yet? what a spite is that?

_Alice._--Not yet, Will; take heed he see thee not.

_Will._--I fear he will spy me as I am coming.

_Michael._--To prevent that, creep betwixt my legs.

_Mosbie._ One ace, or else I lose the game.

_Arden._ Marry, sir, there’s two for failing.

_Mosbie._ Ah, Master Arden, ‘now I can take you.’

[_Then Will pulls him down with a towel._

_Arden._ Mosbie! Michael! Alice! what will you do?

_Will._ Nothing but take you up, sir, nothing else. 240

_Mosbie._ There’s for the pressing iron you told me of. [_Stabs him._

_Shakebag._ And there’s for the ten pound in my sleeve. [_Stabs him._

_Alice._ What! groans thou? nay, then give me the weapon! Take this for hindering Mosbie’s love and mine. [_She stabs him._

_Michael._ O, mistress!

_Will._ Ah, that villain will betray us all.

_Mosbie._ Tush, fear him not; he will be secret.

_Michael._ Why, dost thou think I will betray myself?

_Shakebag._ In Southwark dwells a bonny northern lass, The widow Chambly; I’ll to her house now, 250 And if she will not give me harborough, I’ll make booty of the quean even to her smock.

_Will._ Shift for yourselves; we two will leave you now.

_Alice._ First lay the body in the counting-house.

[_Then they lay the body in the Counting-house._

_Will._ We have our gold; Mistress Alice, adieu; Mosbie, farewell, and Michael, farewell too. [_Exeunt._

_Enter Susan._

_Susan._ Mistress, the guests are at the doors. Hearken, they knock: what, shall I let them in?

_Alice._ Mosbie, go thou and bear them company. [_Exit Mosbie._ And, Susan, fetch water and wash away this blood.

_Susan._ The blood cleaveth to the ground and will not out. 261

_Alice._ But with my nails I’ll scrape away the blood;-- The more I strive, the more the blood appears!

_Susan._ What’s the reason, Mistress, can you tell?

_Alice._ Because I blush not at my husband’s death.

_Here enters Mosbie._

_Mosbie._ How now? what’s the matter? is all well?

_Alice._ Ay, well, if Arden were alive again. In vain we strive, for here his blood remains.

_Mosbie._ Why, strew rushes on it, can you not? This wench doth nothing: fall unto the work. 270

_Alice._ ’Twas thou that made me murder him.

_Mosbie._ What of that?

_Alice._ Nay, nothing, Mosbie, so it be not known.

_Mosbie._ Keep thou it close, and ’tis unpossible.

_Alice._ Ah, but I cannot! was he not slain by me? My husband’s death torments me at the heart.

_Mosbie._ It shall not long torment thee, gentle Alice; I am thy husband, think no more of him.

_Here enters Adam Fowle and Bradshaw._

_Bradshaw._ How now, Mistress Arden? what ail you weep?

_Mosbie._ Because her husband is abroad so late. 280 A couple of ruffians threatened him yesternight, And she, poor soul, is afraid he should be hurt.

_Adam._ Is’t nothing else? tush, he’ll be here anon.

_Here enters Greene._

_Greene._ Now, Mistress Arden, lack you any guests?

_Alice._ Ah, Master Greene, did you see my husband lately?

_Greene._ I saw him walking behind the Abbey even now.

_Here enters Franklin._

_Alice._ I do not like this being out so late.-- Master Franklin, where did you leave my husband?

_Franklin._ Believe me I saw him not since morning. Fear you not, he’ll come anon; meantime 290 You may do well to bid his guests sit down.

_Alice._ Ay, so they shall; Master Bradshaw, sit you there; I pray you, be content, I’ll have my will. Master Mosbie, sit you in my husband’s seat.

_Michael._--Susan, shall thou and I wait on them? Or, an thou sayest the word, let us sit down too.

_Susan._--Peace, we have other matters now in hand. I fear me, Michael, all will be bewrayed.

_Michael._--Tush, so it be known that I shall marry thee in the morning, I care not though I be hanged ere night. But to prevent the worst, I’ll buy some ratsbane. 301

_Susan._--Why, Michael, wilt thou poison thyself?

_Michael._--No, but my mistress, for I fear she’ll tell.

_Susan._--Tush, Michael; fear not her, she’s wise enough.

_Mosbie._ Sirrah Michael, give’s a cup of beer.-- Mistress Arden, here’s to your husband.

_Alice._ My husband!

_Franklin._ What ails you, woman, to cry so suddenly?

_Alice._ Ah, neighbours, a sudden qualm came o’er my heart; My husband being forth torments my mind. 310 I know something’s amiss, he is not well; Or else I should have heard of him ere now.

_Mosbie._--She will undo us through her foolishness.

_Greene._ Fear not, Mistress Arden, he’s well enough.

_Alice._ Tell not me; I know he is not well: He was not wont for to stay thus late. Good Master Franklin, go and seek him forth, And if you find him, send him home to me, And tell him what a fear he hath put me in.

_Franklin._--I like not this; I pray God all be well. 320 I’ll seek him out, and find him if I can.

[_Exeunt Franklin, Mosbie, and Greene._

_Alice._--Michael, how shall I do to rid the rest away?

_Michael._--Leave that to my charge, let me alone. ’Tis very late, Master Bradshaw, And there are many false knaves abroad, And you have many narrow lanes to pass.

_Bradshaw._ Faith, friend Michael, and thou sayest true. Therefore I pray thee light’s forth and lend’s a link.

[_Exeunt Bradshaw, Adam, and Michael._

_Alice._ Michael, bring them to the doors, but do not stay; You know I do not love to be alone. 330 --Go, Susan, and bid thy brother come: But wherefore should he come? Here is nought but fear; Stay, Susan, stay, and help to counsel me.

_Susan._ Alas. I counsel! fear frights away my wits.

[_Then they open the counting-house door, and look upon Arden._

_Alice._ See, Susan, where thy quondam master lies, Sweet Arden, smeared in blood and filthy gore.

_Susan._ My brother, you, and I shall rue this deed.

_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.

_Mosbie._ Tell me, sweet Alice, how shall I escape? 350

_Alice._ Out at the back-door, over the pile of wood, And for one night lie at the Flower-de-luce.

_Mosbie._ That is the next way to betray myself.

_Greene._ Alas, Mistress Arden, the watch will take me hers, And cause suspicion, where else would be none.

_Alice._ Why, take that way that Master Mosbie doth; But first convey the body to the fields.

[_Then they bear the body into the fields._

_Mosbie._ Until to-morrow, sweet Alice, now farewell: And see you confess nothing in any case.

_Greene._ Be resolute, Mistress Alice, betray us not, 360 But cleave to us as we will stick to you.

[_Exeunt Mosbie and Greene._

_Alice._ Now, let the judge and juries do their worst: My house is clear, and now I fear them not.

_Susan._ As we went, it snowed all the way, Which makes me fear our footsteps will be spied.

_Alice._ Peace, fool, the snow will cover them again.

_Susan._ But it had done before we came back again.

_Alice._ Hark, hark, they knock! go, Michael, let them in.

_Here enters the Mayor and the Watch._

How now, Master Mayor, have you brought my husband home?

_Mayor._ I saw him come into your house an hour ago. 370

_Alice._ You are deceived; it was a Londoner.

_Mayor._ Mistress Arden, know you not one that is called Black Will?

_Alice._ I know none such: what mean these questions?

_Mayor._ I have the Council’s warrant to apprehend him.

_Alice._--I am glad it is no worse. Why, Master Mayor, think you I harbour any such?

_Mayor._ We are informed that here he is; And therefore pardon us, for we must search.

_Alice._ Ay, search, and spare you not, through every room: Were my husband at home, you would not offer this. 380

_Here enters Franklin._

Master Franklin, what mean you come so sad?

_Franklin._ Arden, thy husband and my friend, is slain.

_Alice._ Ah, by whom? Master Franklin, can you tell?

_Franklin._ I know not; but behind the Abbey There he lies murdered in most piteous case.

_Mayor._ But, Master Franklin, are you sure ’tis he?

_Franklin._ I am too sure; would God I were deceived.

_Alice._ Find out the murderers, let them be known.

_Franklin._ Ay, so they shall: come you along with us.

_Alice._ Wherefore? 390

_Franklin._ Know you this hand-towel and this knife?

_Susan._--Ah, Michael, through this thy negligence Thou hast betrayed and undone us all.

_Michael._--I was so afraid I knew not what I did: I thought I had thrown them both into the well.

_Alice._ It is the pig’s blood we had to supper. But wherefore stay you? find out the murderers.

_Mayor._ I fear me you’ll prove one of them yourself.

_Alice._ I one of them? what mean such questions?

_Franklin._ I fear me he was murdered in this house 400 And carried to the fields; for from that place Backwards and forwards may you see The print of many feet within the snow. And look about this chamber where we are, And you shall find part of his guiltless blood; For in his slipshoe did I find some rushes, Which argueth he was murdered in this room.

_Mayor._ Look in the place where he was wont to sit. See, see! his blood! it is too manifest.

_Alice._ It is a cup of wine that Michael shed. 410

_Michael._ Ay, truly.

_Franklin._ It is his blood, which, strumpet, thou hast shed. But if I live, thou and thy ’complices Which have conspired and wrought his death shall rue it.

_Alice._ Ah, Master Franklin, God and heaven can tell I loved him more than all the world beside. But bring me to him, let me see his body.

_Franklin._ Bring that villain and Mosbie’s sister too; And one of you go to the Flower-de-luce, And seek for Mosbie, and apprehend him too. 420

[_Exeunt._

V. i. 58. _Hilts_ is common for ‘hilt,’ _e.g._ in Malory and Shakespeare; ‘_both his hilts_’ is apparently an extension of this use. _Locked_ I take to mean ‘crossed or clashed swords,’ with his adversary.

V. i. 105. _game or two at tables_: a sort of backgammon.

V. i. 155. Cf. the concluding lines of Ovid’s _Elegy_, already alluded to, i. 60.

V. i. 338. ‘Cecily Pounders did help to bear the dead corpse out into a meadow there, commonly called the Amery Croft.’--_Wardmote Book._