_Arden._ Mosbie, with these thy protestations The deadly hatred of my heart’s appeased, 340 And thou and I’ll be friends, if this prove true. As for the base terms I gave thee late, Forget them, Mosbie: I had cause to speak, When all the knights and gentlemen of Kent Make common table-talk of her and thee. _Mosbie._ Who lives that is not touched with slanderous tongues? _Franklin._ Then, Mosbie, to eschew the speech of men, Upon whose general bruit all honour hangs, Forbear his house. _Arden._ Forbear it! nay, rather frequent it more: 350 The world shall see that I distrust her not. To warn him on the sudden from my house Were to confirm the rumour that is grown. _Mosbie._ By my faith, sir, you say true, And therefore will I sojourn here a while, Until our enemies have talked their fill; And then, I hope, they’ll cease, and at last confess How causeless they have injured her and me. _Arden._ And I will lie at London all this term To let them see how light I weigh their words. 360 _Here enters Alice._ _Alice._ Husband, sit down; your breakfast will be cold. _Arden._ Come, Master Mosbie, will you sit with us? _Mosbie._ I cannot eat, but I’ll sit for company. _Arden._ Sirrah Michael, see our horse be ready. _Alice._ Husband, why pause ye? why eat you not? _Arden._ I am not well; there’s something in this broth That is not wholesome: didst thou make it, Alice? _Alice._ I did, and that’s the cause it likes not you. [_Then she throws down the broth on the ground._ There’s nothing that I do can please your taste; You were best to say I would have poisoned you. 370 I cannot speak or cast aside my eye, But he imagines I have stepped awry. Here’s he that you cast in my teeth so oft: Now will I be convinced or purge myself. I charge thee speak to this mistrustful man, Thou that wouldst see me hang, thou, Mosbie, thou: What favour hast thou had more than a kiss At coming or departing from the town? _Mosbie._ You wrong yourself and me to cast these doubts: Your loving husband is not jealous. 380 _Arden._ Why, gentle Mistress Alice, cannot I be ill But you’ll accuse yourself? Franklin, thou hast a box of mithridate; I’ll take a little to prevent the worst. _Franklin._ Do so, and let us presently take horse; My life for yours, ye shall do well enough. _Alice._ Give me a spoon, I’ll eat of it myself; Would it were full of poison to the brim, Then should my cares and troubles have an end. Was ever silly woman so tormented? 390 _Arden._ Be patient, sweet love; I mistrust not thee. _Alice._ God will revenge it, Arden, if thou dost; For never woman loved her husband better Than I do thee. _Arden._ I know it, sweet Alice; cease to complain, Lest that in tears I answer thee again. _Franklin._ Come, leave this dallying, and let us away. _Alice._ Forbear to wound me with that bitter word; Arden shall go to London in my arms. _Arden._ Loth am I to depart, yet I must go. 400