_Arden._ Yes, the Lord Clifford, he that loves not me. But through his favour let him not grow proud; For were he by the Lord Protector backed, He should not make me to be pointed at. I am by birth a gentleman of blood, And that injurious ribald, that attempts To violate my dear wife’s chastity (For dear I hold her love, as dear as heaven) Shall on the bed which he thinks to defile 40 See his dissevered joints and sinews torn, Whilst on the planchers pants his weary body, Smeared in the channels of his lustful blood. _Franklin._ Be patient, gentle friend, and learn of me To ease thy grief and save her chastity: Intreat her fair; sweet words are fittest engines To race the flint walls of a woman’s breast. In any case be not too jealous, Nor make no question of her love to thee; But, as securely, presently take horse, 50 And lie with me at London all this term; For women, when they may, will not, But, being kept back, straight grow outrageous. _Arden._ Though this abhors from reason, yet I’ll try it, And call her forth and presently take leave. How! Alice! _Here enters Alice._ _Alice._ Husband, what mean you to get up so early? Summer-nights are short, and yet you rise ere day. Had I been wake, you had not risen so soon. _Arden._ Sweet love, thou knowest that we two, Ovid-like, 60 Have often chid the morning when it ’gan to peep, And often wished that dark night’s purblind steeds Would pull her by the purple mantle back, And cast her in the ocean to her love. But this night, sweet Alice, thou hast killed my heart: I heard thee call on Mosbie in thy sleep. _Alice._ ’Tis like I was asleep when I named him, For being awake he comes not in my thoughts. _Arden._ Ay, but you started up and suddenly, Instead of him, caught me about the neck. 70 _Alice._ Instead of him? why, who was there but you? And where but one is, how can I mistake? _Franklin._ Arden, leave to urge her over-far. _Arden._ Nay, love, there is no credit in a dream; Let it suffice I know thou lovest me well. _Alice._ Now I remember whereupon it came: Had we no talk of Mosbie yesternight? _Franklin._ Mistress Alice, I heard you name him once or twice. _Alice._ And thereof came it, and therefore blame not me. _Arden._ I know it did, and therefore let it pass. 80 I must to London, sweet Alice, presently. _Alice._ But tell me, do you mean to stay there long? _Arden._ No longer there till my affairs be done. _Franklin._ He will not stay above a month at most. _Alice._ A month? ay me! Sweet Arden, come again Within a day or two, or else I die. _Arden._ I cannot long be from thee, gentle Alice. Whilst Michael fetch our horses from the field, Franklin and I will down unto the quay; For I have certain goods there to unload. 90 Meanwhile prepare our breakfast, gentle Alice; For yet ere noon we’ll take horse and away. [_Exeunt Arden and Franklin._