_Clarke._ O, Michael, the spleen prickles you. Go to, you carry an eye over Mistress Susan. 60 _Michael._ I’ faith, to keep her from the painter. _Clarke._ Why more from a painter than from a serving creature like yourself? Michael. Because you painters make but a painting table of a pretty wench, and spoil her beauty with blotting. _Clarke._ What mean you by that? _Michael._ Why, that you painters paint lambs in the lining of wenches’ petticoats, and we serving-men put horns to them to make them become sheep. 70 _Clarke._ Such another word will cost you a cuff or a knock. _Michael._ What, with a dagger made of a pencil? Faith, ’tis too weak, and therefore thou too weak to win Susan. _Clarke._ Would Susan’s love lay upon this stroke. [_Then he breaks Michael’s head._ _Here enters Mosbie, Greene, and Alice._ _Alice._ I’ll lay my life, this is for Susan’s love. Stayed you behind your master to this end? Have you no other time to brable in But now when serious matters are in hand?-- Say, Clarke, hast thou done the thing thou promised? 80 _Clarke._ Ay, here it is; the very touch is death. _Alice._ Then this, I hope, if all the rest do fail, Will catch Master Arden, And make him wise in death that lived a fool. Why should he thrust his sickle in our corn, Or what hath he to do with thee, my love, Or govern me that am to rule myself? Forsooth, for credit sake, I must leave thee! Nay, he must leave to live that we may love, May live, may love; for what is life but love? 90 And love shall last as long as life remains, And life shall end before my love depart. _Mosbie._ Why, what is love without true constancy? Like to a pillar built of many stones, Yet neither with good mortar well compact Nor with cement to fasten it in the joints, But that it shakes with every blast of wind, And, being touched, straight falls unto the earth, And buries all his haughty pride in dust. No, let our love be rocks of adamant, 100 Which time nor place nor tempest can asunder. _Greene._ Mosbie, leave protestations now, And let us bethink us what we have to do. Black Will and Shakebag I have placed i’ the broom, Close watching Arden’s coming; let’s to them And see what they have done. [_Exeunt._ IV. i. 1. _gardant_: A, B read _gardeant_, modern editors _guardians_. IV. i. 3. _path_: so Warnke for _pace_ of A, B, C; but _pace_ in the sense of ‘path’ is not impossible. IV. i. 17. _desires_: so Warnke for _deserves_, A, B, C. IV. i. 44. ‘A certain broom-close betwixt Feversham and the Ferry.’--Holinshed. IV. i. 45. Cf. _Ecclesiastes_, vii. 5. IV. i. 96. _nor with cement_: Delius _for nor semell_, A, B. SCENE II _The Kentish Coast opposite the Isle of Sheppy._ _Here enters Arden and Franklin._ _Arden._ Oh, ferryman, where art thou? _Here enters the Ferryman._ _Ferryman._ Here, here, go before to the boat, and I will follow you. _Arden._ We have great haste; I pray thee, come away.