_Arden._ I like not this, but I’ll go see myself.-- Ne’er trust me but the doors were all unlocked: This negligence not half contenteth me. Get you to bed, and if you love my favour, Let me have no more such pranks as these. Come, Master Franklin, let us go to bed. _Franklin._ Ay, by my faith; the air is very cold. Michael, farewell; I pray thee dream no more. [_Exeunt._ III. i. 5. _Couch dishonour as dishonour buds._ Warnke explains _Couch_ = ‘spread,’ comparing ‘couch-grass’; but there is no authority for this use. Is the word used in its surgical sense? The line would then = ‘Cut the bud of dishonour so that it bursts into flower.’ The surgical sense occurs in Holland’s _Pliny_, 1601. III. i. 13. _plenished_ is Warnke’s reading for the Quartos’ _perisht_. Delius and Bullen read _flourished_. III. i. 19. Cf. ‘Sorrow and grief have vanquished all my powers.’--2 _Henry VI._, II. i. 83. III. i. 45. For this use of _sullen_ cf. ‘Why are thine eyes fixed to the sullen earth?’--2 _Henry VI._, I. ii. 5, and Sonnet XXIX. 13. SCENE II _Outside Franklin’s house._ _Here enters Will, Greene, and Shakebag._ _Shakebag._ Black night hath hid the pleasures of the day, And sheeting darkness overhangs the earth, And with the black fold of her cloudy robe Obscures us from the eyesight of the world, In which sweet silence such as we triumph. The lazy minutes linger on their time, As loth to give due audit to the hour, Till in the watch our purpose be complete And Arden sent to everlasting night. Greene, get you gone, and linger here about, 10 And at some hour hence come to us again, Where we will give you instance of his death. _Greene._ Speed to my wish, whose will so e’er says no; And so I’ll leave you for an hour or two. [_Exit Greene._ _Will._ I tell thee, Shakebag, would this thing were done: I am so heavy that I can scarce go; This drowsiness in me bodes little good. _Shakebag._ How now, Will? become a precisian? Nay, then let’s go sleep, when bugs and fears Shall kill our courages with their fancy’s work. 20 _Will._ Why, Shakebag, thou mistakes me much, And wrongs me too in telling me of fear. Were’t not a serious thing we go about, It should be slipt till I had fought with thee, To let thee know I am no coward, I. I tell thee, Shakebag, thou abusest me. _Shakebag._ Why, thy speech bewrayed an inly kind of fear, And savoured of a weak relenting spirit. Go forward now in that we have begun, And afterwards attempt me when thou darest. 30 _Will._ And if I do not, heaven cut me off! But let that pass, and show me to this house, Where thou shalt see I’ll do as much as Shakebag. _Shakebag._ This is the door; but soft, methinks ’tis shut. The villain Michael hath deceived us. _Will._ Soft, let me see, Shakebag; ’tis shut indeed. Knock with thy sword, perhaps the slave will hear. _Shakebag._ It will not be; the white-livered peasant Is gone to bed, and laughs us both to scorn.