of Feuershame.
I tould him all, where at he stormd a maine,
And swore he would cry quittance with the Churle,
And if he did denye his enterest
Stabbe him, whatsoeuer did befall him selfe,
When as I sawe his choller thus to rise,
I whetted on the gentleman with words
And to conclude, Mosbie, at last we grew
To composition for my husbands death,
I gaue him ten pound to hire knaues,
By some deuise to make away the Churle:
When he is dead, he should haue twenty more,
And repossesse his former lands againe,
On this we greed, and he is ridden straight
To London, to bring his death about.
Mos.
But call you this good newes?
Ales.
I sweete hart, be they not?
Mos.
Twere cherefull newes, to hear the churle wer dead,
But trust me Ales, I take it passing ill,
You would be so forgetfull of our state,
To make recount of it to euery groome,
What? to acquaint each stranger with our drifts,
Cheefely in case of murther, why tis the way,
To make it open vnto Ardens selfe.
And bring thy selfe and me to ruine both,
Forewarnde, forearmde, who threats his enemye
Lends him a sword to guarde himselfe with all.
Ales.
I did it for the best.
Mos.
Well, seing tis don, cherely let it pas.
You know this Greene, is he not religious?
A man I gesse of great deuotion.
Ales.
He is.
Mos.
Then sweete Ales let it pas, I haue a dryft
Will quyet all, what euer is amis.
Here enters Clarke and Susan.
Ales.
How now Clarke, haue you found me false?
Did I not plead the matter hard for you?
