The Tragedy of M.Arden
Ales
Swete Mosbie is as gentle as a King,
And I too blinde, to iudge him otherwise,
Flowres do some times spring in fallow lands,
UUeedes in gardens, Roses grow on thornes.
So what so ere my Mosbies father was,
Himselfe valued gentle by his worth.
Mos.
Ah how you women can insinuate,
And cleare a trespasse with your sweete set tongue,
I will forget this quarrel gentle Ales,
Prouided Ile be tempted so no more:
Here enters Bradshaw,
Al.
Then with thy lips seale vp this new made match
Mos.
Soft Ales for here comes some body.
Ales.
How now Bradshaw, whats the news with you
Brad.
I haue little news but heres a letter.
That M. Greene importuned me to giue you:
Ales
Go in Bradshaw call for a cuppe of beare. Exit.
Tis almost suppertime, thou shalt stay with vs.
Then she reades the Letter.
We haue mist of our purpose at London, but shall perform it by the waye, We thanke our neighbour Bradshaw.
How lykes my loue the tennor of this letter?
Mos.
Well, were his date compleat and expired.
Ales.
Ah would it were,
Then comes my happy howre.
Till then my blisse is mixt with bitter gall.
Come let vs in to shun suspition.
Ales.
I to the gates of death to follow thee. Exeunt.
Here enters Greene Will & Shakbag.
Shak.
Come Will, see thy tooles be in a redynes?
Is not thy Powder dancke,
Or will thy flint stryke fyre
Will.
Then aske me if my nose be on my face.
Or whether my toung be frosen in my mouth.
