_Mosbie._ ’Twere cheerful news to hear the churl were dead; But trust me, Alice, I take it passing ill You would be so forgetful of our state To make recount of it to every groom. What! to acquaint each stranger with our drifts, Chiefly in case of murder, why, ’tis the way 580 To make it open unto Arden’s self And bring thyself and me to ruin both. Forewarned, forearmed; who threats his enemy, Lends him a sword to guard himself withal. _Alice._ I did it for the best. _Mosbie._ Well, seeing ’tis done, cheerly let it pass. You know this Greene; is he not religious? A man, I guess, of great devotion? _Alice._ He is. _Mosbie._ Then, sweet Alice, let it pass: I have a drift 590 Will quiet all, whatever is amiss. _Here enters Clarke and Susan._ _Alice._ How now, Clarke? have you found me false? Did I not plead the matter hard for you? _Clarke._ You did. _Mosbie._ And what? wilt be a match? _Clarke._ A match, i’ faith, sir: ay, the day is mine. The painter lays his colours to the life, His pencil draws no shadows in his love. Susan is mine. _Alice._ You make her blush. 600 _Mosbie._ What, sister, is it Clarke must be the man? _Susan._ It resteth in your grant; some words are past, And haply we be grown unto a match, If you be willing that it shall be so. _Mosbie._ Ah, Master Clarke, it resteth at my grant: You see my sister’s yet at my dispose, But, so you’ll grant me one thing I shall ask, I am content my sister shall be yours. _Clarke._ What is it, Master Mosbie? _Mosbie._ I do remember once in secret talk 610 You told me how you could compound by art A crucifix impoisoned, That whoso look upon it should wax blind And with the scent be stifled, that ere long He should die poisoned that did view it well. I would have you make me such a crucifix. And then I’ll grant my sister shall be yours. _Clarke._ Though I am loth, because it toucheth life, Yet, rather or I’ll leave sweet Susan’s love, I’ll do it, and with all the haste I may. 620 But for whom is it? _Alice._ Leave that to us. Why, Clarke, is it possible That you should paint and draw it out yourself, The colours being baleful and impoisoned, And no ways prejudice yourself withal? _Mosbie._ Well questioned, Alice; Clarke, how answer you that? _Clarke._ Very easily: I’ll tell you straight How I do work of these impoisoned drugs. I fasten on my spectacles so close As nothing can any way offend my sight; 630 Then, as I put a leaf within my nose, So put I rhubarb to avoid the smell, And softly as another work I paint. _Mosbie._ ’Tis very well; but against when shall I have it? _Clarke._ Within this ten days. _Mosbie._ ’Twill serve the turn. Now, Alice, let’s in and see what cheer you keep. I hope, now Master Arden is from home, You’ll give me leave to play your husband’s part. _Alice._ Mosbie, you know, who’s master of my heart, He well may be the master of the house. 640 [_Exeunt._