The Tragedy of M.Arden
For this shall go with me, and marke my words,
You goodman botcher, tis to you I speake,
The next time that I take thee neare my house,
In steede of legs, Ile make thee crall on stumps.
Mos.
Ah maister Arden you haue iniurde mee,
I doo appeale to God, and to the world.
Fran.
Why canst thou deny, thou wert a botcher once,
Mos.
Measure me what I am, not what I was.
Ar.
Why what art thou now, but a Ueluet drudge,
A cheating steward, and base minded pesant.
Mos.
Arden now thou hast belcht and vomited,
The rancorous venome of thy mis-swolne hart,
Heare me but speake, as I intend to liue
With God, and his elected saints in heauen,
I neuer meant more to solicit her,
And that she knowes, and all the world shall see,
I loued her once, sweete Arden pardon me.
I could not chuse, her beauty fyred my hearte,
But time hath quench't these ouerraging coles,
And Arden though I now frequent thy house,
Tis for my sisters sake, her waiting maid
And not for hers, maiest thou enioy her long:
Hell fyre and wrathfull vengeance light on me,
If I dishonor her or iniure thee.
Ard.
Mosbie with these thy protestations,
The deadly hatred of my hart is appeased,
And thou and Ile be freends, if this proue trew.
As for the base tearmes I gaue thee late,
Forget them Mosbie, I had cause to speake:
When all the Knights and gentlemen of Kent,
Make common table talke of her and thee.
Mos.
Who liues that is not toucht with slannderous tongues,
Fra.
Then Mosbie, to eschew the speache of men,
Upon whose generall brute all honor hangs,
Forbeare his house.
Ard.
Forbeare it, nay rather frequent it more.
