SCENE II

_London. A Street near St. Paul’s._

_Enter Michael._

_Michael._ I have gotten such a letter as will touch the painter: And thus it is:

_Here enters Arden and Franklin and hears Michael read this letter._

‘My duty remembered, Mistress Susan, hoping in God you be in good health, as I Michael was at the making hereof. This is to certify you that as the turtle true, when she hath lost her mate, sitteth alone, so I, mourning for your absence, do walk up and down Paul’s till one day I fell asleep and lost my master’s pantofles. Ah, Mistress Susan, abolish that paltry painter, cut him off by the shins with a frowning look of your crabbed countenance, and think upon Michael, who, drunk with the dregs of your favour, will cleave as fast to your love as a plaster of pitch to a galled horse-back. Thus hoping you will let my passions penetrate, or rather impetrate mercy of your meek hands, I end.

‘Yours, Michael, or else not Michael.’

_Arden._ Why, you paltry knave, Stand you here loitering, knowing my affairs, What haste my business craves to send to Kent? 20

_Franklin._ Faith, friend Michael, this is very ill, Knowing your master hath no more but you, And do ye slack his business for your own?

_Arden._ Where is the letter, sirrah? let me see it.

[_Then he gives him the letter._

See, Master Franklin, here’s proper stuff: Susan my maid, the painter, and my man, A crew of harlots, all in love, forsooth; Sirrah, let me hear no more of this, Nor for thy life once write to her a word.

_Here enters Greene, Will, and Shakebag._

Wilt thou be married to so base a trull? 30 ’Tis Mosbie’s sister: come I once at home, I’ll rouse her from remaining in my house. Now, Master Franklin, let us go walk in Paul’s; Come but a turn or two, and then away.

[_Exeunt._

_Greene._ The first is Arden, and that’s his man, The other is Franklin, Arden’s dearest friend.

_Will._ Zounds, I’ll kill them all three.

_Greene._ Nay, sirs, touch not his man in any case; But stand close, and take you fittest standing, And at his coming forth speed him: 40 To the Nag’s Head, there is this coward’s haunt. But now I’ll leave you till the deed be done.

[_Exit Greene._

_Shakebag._ If he be not paid his own, ne’er trust Shakebag.

_Will._ Sirrah Shakebag, at his coming forth I’ll run him through, and then to the Blackfriars, and there take water and away.

_Shakebag._ Why, that’s the best; but see thou miss him not.

_Will._ How can I miss him, when I think on the forty angels I must have more?

_Here enters Prentice._

_Prentice._ ’Tis very late; I were best shut up my stall, for here will be old filching, when the press comes forth of Paul’s. 52

[_Then lets he down his window, and it breaks Black Will’s head._

_Will._ Zounds, draw, Shakebag, I am almost killed.

_Prentice._ We’ll tame you, I warrant.

_Will._ Zounds, I am tame enough already.

_Here enters Arden, Franklin, and Michael._

_Arden._ What troublesome fray or mutiny is this?

_Franklin._ ’Tis nothing but some brabling paltry fray, Devised to pick men’s pockets in the throng.

_Arden._ Is’t nothing else? come, Franklin, let’s away.

[_Exeunt._

_Will._ What ’mends shall I have for my broken head? 60

_Prentice._ Marry, this ’mends, that if you get you not away all the sooner, you shall be well beaten and sent to the Counter. [_Exit Prentice._

_Will._ Well, I’ll be gone, but look to your signs, for I’ll pull them down all. Shakebag, my broken head grieves me not so much as by this means Arden hath escaped.

_Here enters Greene._

I had a glimpse of him and his companion.

_Greene._ Why, sirs, Arden’s as well as I; I met him and Franklin going merrily to the ordinary. What, dare you not do it? 71

_Will._ Yes, sir, we dare do it; but, were my consent to give again, we would not do it under ten pound more. I value every drop of my blood at a French crown. I have had ten pound to steal a dog, and we have no more here to kill a man; but that a bargain is a bargain, and so forth, you should do it yourself.

_Greene._ I pray thee, how came thy head broke?

_Will._ Why, thou seest it is broke, dost thou not? 79

_Shakebag._ Standing against a stall, watching Arden’s coming, a boy let down his shop-window and broke his head; whereupon arose a brawl, and in the tumult Arden escaped us and passed by unthought on. But forbearance is no acquittance; another time we’ll do it, I warrant thee.

_Greene._ I pray thee, Will, make clean thy bloody brow, And let us bethink us on some other place Where Arden may be met with handsomely. Remember how devoutly thou hast sworn To kill the villain; think upon thine oath. 90

_Will._ Tush, I have broken five hundred oaths! But wouldst thou charm me to effect this deed, Tell me of gold, my resolution’s fee; Say thou seest Mosbie kneeling at my knees, Offering me service for my high attempt, And sweet Alice Arden, with a lap of crowns, Comes with a lowly curtsey to the earth, Saying ‘Take this but for thy quarterage, Such yearly tribute will I answer thee.’ Why, this would steel soft-mettled cowardice, 100 With which Black Will was never tainted yet. I tell thee, Greene, the forlorn traveller, Whose lips are glued with summer’s parching heat, Ne’er longed so much to see a running brook As I to finish Arden’s tragedy. Seest thou this gore that cleaveth to my face? From hence ne’er will I wash this bloody stain, Till Arden’s heart be panting in my hand.

_Greene._ Why, that’s well said; but what saith Shakebag?

_Shakebag._ I cannot paint my valour out with words: 110 But, give me place and opportunity, Such mercy as the starven lioness, When she is dry sucked of her eager young, Shows to the prey that next encounters her, On Arden so much pity would I take.

_Greene._ So should it fare with men of firm resolve. And now, sirs, seeing that this accident Of meeting him in Paul’s hath no success, Let us bethink us of some other place Whose earth may swallow up this Arden’s blood.

_Here enters Michael._

See, yonder comes his man: and wot you what? 121 The foolish knave’s in love with Mosbie’s sister, And for her sake, whose love he cannot get Unless Mosbie solicit his suit, The villain hath sworn the slaughter of his master. We’ll question him, for he may stead us much,-- How now, Michael, whither are you going?

_Michael._ My master hath new supped, And I am going to prepare his chamber.

_Greene._ Where supped Master Arden? 130

_Michael._ At the Nag’s Head, at the eighteen pence ordinary. How now, Master Shakebag? what, Black Will! God’s dear lady, how chance your face is so bloody?

_Will._ Go to, sirrah, there is a chance in it; this sauciness in you will make you be knocked.

_Michael._ Nay, an you be offended, I’ll be gone.

_Greene._ Stay, Michael, you may not escape us so. Michael, I know you love your master well.

_Michael._ Why, so I do; but wherefore urge you that?

_Greene._ Because I think you love your mistress better.

_Michael._ So think not I; but say, i’ faith, what, if I should?

_Shakebag._ Come to the purpose, Michael; we hear 143 You have a pretty love in Feversham.

_Michael._ Why, have I two or three, what’s that to thee!

_Will._ You deal too mildly with the peasant. Thus it is: ’Tis known to us that you love Mosbie’s sister; We know besides that you have ta’en your oath To further Mosbie to your mistress’ bed, And kill your master for his sister’s sake. Now, sir, a poorer coward than yourself 150 Was never fostered in the coast of Kent: How comes it then that such a knave as you Dare swear a matter of such consequence?

_Greene._ Ah, Will----

_Will._ Tush, give me leave, there’s no more but this: Sith thou hast sworn, we dare discover all; And hadst thou or should’st thou utter it, We have devised a complat under hand, Whatever shall betide to any of us, To send thee roundly to the devil of hell. 160 And therefore thus: I am the very man, Marked in my birth-hour by the destinies, To give an end to Arden’s life on earth; Thou but a member but to whet the knife Whose edge must search the closet of his breast: Thy office is but to appoint the place, And train thy master to his tragedy; Mine to perform it when occasion serves. Then be not nice, but here devise with us How and what way we may conclude his death. 170

_Shakebag._ So shalt thou purchase Mosbie for thy friend, And by his friendship gain his sister’s love.

_Greene._ So shall thy mistress be thy favourer, And thou disburdened of the oath thou made.

_Michael._ Well, gentlemen, I cannot but confess, Sith you have urged me so apparently, That I have vowed my master Arden’s death; And he whose kindly love and liberal hand Doth challenge nought but good deserts of me, I will deliver over to your hands. 180 This night come to his house at Aldersgate: The doors I’ll leave unlock’d against you come. No sooner shall ye enter through the latch, Over the threshold to the inner court, But on your left hand shall you see the stairs That leads directly to my master’s chamber: There take him and dispose him as ye please. Now it were good we parted company; What I have promised, I will perform.

_Will._ Should you deceive us, ’twould go wrong with you. 190

_Michael._ I will accomplish all I have revealed.

_Will._ Come, let’s go drink: choler makes me as dry as a dog. 190

[_Exeunt Will, Greene, and Shakebag._ _Manet Michael._

_Michael._ Thus feeds the lamb securely on the down, Whilst through the thicket of an arbour brake The hunger-bitten wolf o’erpries his haunt And takes advantage for to eat him up. Ah, harmless Arden, how hast thou misdone, That thus thy gentle life is levelled at? The many good turns that thou hast done to me. 200 Now must I quittance with betraying thee. I that should take the weapon in my hand And buckler thee from ill-intending foes, Do lead thee with a wicked fraudful smile, As unsuspected, to the slaughter-house. So have I sworn to Mosbie and my mistress, So have I promised to the slaughtermen; And should I not deal currently with them, Their lawless rage would take revenge on me. Tush, I will spurn at mercy for this once: 210 Let pity lodge where feeble women lie, I am resolved, and Arden needs must die.

[_Exit Michael._

II. ii. 3. Michael’s letter is a curious effort at euphuism which calls to mind ‘Love’s Labour’s Lost.’ Note the fabulous natural history, the alliteration, and the alliterative proverb.

II. ii. 51. _old filching_ = ‘rare filching.’ Cf. ‘Yonder’s old coil at hand.’--_Much Ado_, V. ii. 98.

II. ii. 63. The Counter was a London prison.