_Alice._ Wilt thou to London, then, and leave me here? Ah, if thou love me, gentle Arden, stay. Yet, if thy business be of great import Go, if thou wilt, I’ll bear it as I may; But write from London to me every week, Nay, every day, and stay no longer there Than thou must needs, lest that I die for sorrow. _Arden._ I’ll write unto thee every other tide, And so farewell, sweet Alice, till we meet next. _Alice._ Farewell, husband, seeing you’ll have it so; 410 And, Master Franklin, seeing you take him hence, In hope you’ll hasten him home, I’ll give you this. [_And then she kisseth him._ _Franklin._ And if he stay, the fault shall not be mine. Mosbie, farewell, and see you keep your oath. _Mosbie._ I hope he is not jealous of me now. _Arden._ No, Mosbie, no; hereafter think of me As of your dearest friend, and so farewell. [_Exeunt Arden, Franklin, and Michael._ _Alice._ I am glad he is gone; he was about to stay, But did you mark me then how I brake off? _Mosbie._ Ay, Alice, and it was cunningly performed. 420 But what a villain is that painter Clarke! _Alice._ Was it not a goodly poison that he gave? Why, he’s as well now as he was before. It should have been some fine confection That might have given the broth some dainty taste: This powder was too gross and populous. _Mosbie._ But had he eaten but three spoonfuls more, Then had he died and our love continued. _Alice._ Why, so it shall, Mosbie, albeit he live. _Mosbie._ It is unpossible, for I have sworn 430 Never hereafter to solicit thee, Or, whilst he lives, once more importune thee. _Alice._ Thou shalt not need, I will importune thee. What? shall an oath make thee forsake my love? As if I have not sworn as much myself And given my hand unto him in the church! Tush, Mosbie; oaths are words, and words is wind, And wind is mutable: then, I conclude, ’Tis childishness to stand upon an oath. _Mosbie._ Well proved, Mistress Alice; yet by your leave 440 I’ll keep mine unbroken whilst he lives. _Alice._ Ay, do, and spare not, his time is but short; For if thou beest as resolute as I, We’ll have him murdered as he walks the streets. In London many alehouse ruffians keep, Which, as I hear, will murder men for gold. They shall be soundly fee’d to pay him home. _Here enters Greene._ _Mosbie._ Alice, what’s he that comes yonder? knowest thou him? _Alice._ Mosbie, be gone: I hope ’tis one that comes To put in practice our intended drifts. 450 [_Exit Mosbie_ _Greene._ Mistress Arden, you are well met. I am sorry that your husband is from home, Whenas my purposed journey was to him: Yet all my labour is not spent in vain, For I suppose that you can full discourse And flat resolve me of the thing I seek. _Alice._ What is it, Master Greene? If that I may Or can with safety, I will answer you.