CORNELL 
 
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 CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
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 THE GIFT OF 
 
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 Cornell University Library 
 PR2854.A2W28 1888 
 
 Arden of Feversham. 
 
 3 1924 013 144 328 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013144328 
 
PSEUDO-SHAKESPEARIAN PLAYS. 
 
 EDITED 
 
 KARL WARME, ph. d. 
 
 LDDWIG PROESOHOLDT, ph.d. 
 
 V. ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 
 
 HALLE : 
 
 Max Niemeyer. 
 1888. 
 
>*! 
 
 /r^- 
 
 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 
 
 (^ 
 
 ti^U-iu^ ^t- vftJ U^i Yi:^-SilSED AND EDITED 
 
 WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 
 
 KARL WARNKE, ph 
 
 l^ /^^c/lc^^ tmM (Ji^ 
 
 LUDWIG PRO.ESOHOLDT, ph. d. 
 
 ^ ' 
 
 HALLE: 
 
 Max Niemeyer. 
 
 1888. 
 ft 
 
 V, 
 
 L-o 
 
 ''-'-, ' ^' y 
 

 l\^Z.51%S(o 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
Arden of Feversham was entered in the books of the Stationers' 
 Company on 8'h April, 1592. In the same year the play was 
 printed with the title : ' The lamentable and trve Tragcdic of M. Arden 
 of Feversham in Kent. Who was most ivickedlye murdered, by ike 
 meatus of his disloyall and ivanton zvyfe, ivho for the hue she bare 
 to one JSIosbie, hyred two desperat ricffins Blacknill and Shakbag, to 
 kill him. Wherin is shewed the great mallice and discimulation of a 
 wicked woman, the vnsatiable desire of ftlthie lust and the shamefull 
 end of all murderers. hnprinted at London for Edward White, 
 dwelling at the lyttle North dore of Paules Church at the signe of 
 the Gun. 1592.' A copy of the first edition (A) is preserved in 
 the Bodleian Library ; there is another copy of it in the Dyce Li- 
 brary at South Kensington; of the latter a few leaves at the end 
 are wanting and are replaced by facsimile. A second quarto of 
 the play (B), bearing the same title as A, was published in 1599; 
 there seems to be only one copy of this edition extant, preserved 
 in the library of the Duke of Devonshire. A third quarto (C) was 
 printed in 1633 ^by Eliz. Allde divelling neere Christs Church! 
 (Several copies in the British Museum). 
 
 The text as handed down in these editions offers on the whole 
 no great difficulties, and seems not to require so many alterations 
 as modern editors have thought fit t6 introduce into it. The di- 
 vision of lines being very irregular, the play was probably printed 
 from a stage-copy, and not from the author's own manuscript. 
 
 The second edition, which has been accessible to us only 
 through the notes in Mr. Bullen's edition of the play, must be 
 considered as a mere reprint of the first quarto; cp., e. g., IIL 3. 10 
 thoughts for thought, ib. 4. 18 frons f. front, IV. i. 95 semell f. 
 cement, ib. 2. 24 as f. has, ib. 4. 41 sutors f. shuters; only in very 
 few instances of little or no importance the readings of B differ 
 from those of A; cp. L i. 141 none but f. only, ib. 459 had f. hath, 
 II. 2. 165 the f. thy. 
 
VIII INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The quarto of 1633 was printed from the second edition; 
 cp., particularly, I. i. ^64 your f. our, ib. 474 remained I. remainder, 
 II. 2. 98 melted f. metled, III. 1.76 there f. thee, ib. 2. 22 me in the telling 
 me f. to in telling me, ib. 54 his f. this, IV. I. 60 pricks f. prickles, 
 ib. 3. 27 companions f. companyes, V. I. 2,^2 filthy cm. Besides these C 
 offers a great many readings different from A and B. All these 
 alterations, however, bear quite an arbitrary character, and have no 
 value at all for the re-establishment of the text. Very often words 
 are omitted or added, mostly for the purpose of smoothing the 
 metre; cp. I. i. 18 day om., ib. 67 / om., ib. 162 that om., ib. 187 
 this om., ib. 283 it om., ib. 334 now om., ib. 408 other om., ib. 429 
 so it shall om., ib. 467 were om., ib. 590 sweete Ales om. &c, and 
 I. 245 not add., II. I. 50 down to f. down, ib. 71 lie goe backe f. He 
 hacke. III. 5. 112 else add., ib. 135 fie add., V, i. 9 done add. &c. 
 In other instances words are altered without any plausible reason 
 at all, cp. I. 1.57 rise f. gel ip, ib. 68 to f. in, ib. 270 beare f. shew, 
 ib. 308 He put f. J pocket, ib. 586 cheerefully f. cherely, II. I. 93 mightily 
 f. highly &c. Let us also add that in a number of cases the gram- 
 matical forms are altered in C i^thine f. thy, come f. comes, comesi f. 
 comes &c.), and that the verse -lines now and then are somewhat 
 more regular than in B. On the whole, there can be no doubt 
 that the Edilio princeps of the play, in spite of many misprints and 
 some mistakes, is superior to A and B, and must be the basis of 
 a new edition of the play. 
 
 In 1770, Edward Jacob, an inhabitant of Feversham, issued 
 a new edition of the play based on the first quarto. On the 
 strength of certain parallel passages, or passages which he thought 
 to be parallel, Jacob assigned the play to Shakespeare. His edition 
 is a careful reprint of A; but he introduced into the text a great 
 number of alterations, which in his own opinion and in the opinion 
 of his contemporaries, were necessary corrections, but which must 
 be rejected by the modern critic. Only once, as far as we see, 
 have we adopted Jacob's conjecture, viz. the addition olis in III. 5. 145. 
 
 Tyrrell's edition of the play (The Doubtful Plays of William 
 Shakspere, London 1851) is merely based on Jacob's reprint and 
 notes; cp. I. I. 53 grows for grow, ib. 73 forbear f. leaue. III. 5. 46 
 partake f. pertaker (corrected by Jacob in the list of printer's 
 errors), ib. 5. 68 hast f. hath. It need hardly be added that Tyr- 
 rell's so-called corrections are only possessed of an historical interest. 
 
INTRODUCTION. IX 
 
 Much superior to Tyrrell's reprint is Delius' edition of the play 
 (Pseudo-shakespearesche Dramen, Elberfeld 1855, No. 2). Though 
 not acquainted with the old quartos and only working on Jacob's 
 reprint, Delius endeavoured to correct the blunders exhibited by 
 the old editions and reproduced by Jacob. In a number of in- 
 stances he has succeeded in giving the right, or at least an ac- 
 ceptable reading, cp. I. i. 160 she add.. III. i. it, Jlourisht i. pen'shi, 
 III. 5. 26 htue f. heaue. In other cases, however, Delius also seems 
 to have overshot his mark, and to have altered the text where it 
 would seem better to retain the readings presented by the edition 
 of 1592. 
 
 For the last time Arden of Feversham was published by 
 A. H. BuUen (London, J. W. Jarvis and Son, 1887). JNIr. Bullen 
 tried to re-establish the ancient text of the play by reprinting the 
 text of A in old spelling, by collating the other ancient and modern 
 editions, and by correcting those passages to which a remedy 
 must be applied. Preceded by an introduction, in which the question 
 of the authorship of the play is discussed and Holinshed's account 
 of Arden's murder is reprinted, and followed by some Notes in- 
 tended to elucidate or illustrate the text of the play, Mr. Bullen's 
 editon of Arden of Feversham must be regarded as the best edition 
 extant A critical examination of the play, however, and an exact 
 collation with the Editio princeps showed that the readings, preferred 
 by Mr. Bullen , cannot always be approved of, that the varia lectio 
 is far from being exhaustive , and that the spelling is not quite 
 trustworthy. As, besides, only 250 copies have been printed of 
 Mr. Bullen's elegant edition, we think it not unnecessary to present 
 the friends of the Elizabethan stage with a new critical edition of 
 the play. 
 
 The subject on which our drama has been based, seems to 
 have greatly gratified the English public. Even as late as the 
 eighteenth century, G. Lillo (f 1739) adapted the original play to 
 the taste of the play-going public of his age; Lillo's work was 
 finished after his death by Dr. John Hoadly, and printed in 1762.') 
 Besides this there exists among the Roxburghe collection a ballad 
 of 'The Complaint and Lamentations of Mistress Arden of Fevers- 
 ham ' (reprinted in Evan's Old Ballads), which in its present state 
 
 ') An anonymous German Iransla'ion of this play appeared Leipzig, 1778- 
 
X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 is greatly modernized, but which is doubtless founded on an older 
 ballad on the same subject. It is, however, not probable that 
 'Murderous Michael', a play which was performed before the 
 Queen in 1578, was, as Mr. Donne ») and Prof. Ward"^) seem in- 
 clined to suppose, an elder performance of the same story. 
 
 The source of our play is Holinshed's History of England. 
 We think it best to give Holinshed's account of the dreadful event 
 in exienso in order to enable the reader to compare the story with 
 the drama. ^) 
 
 I. I. [1552] About thys tyme there was at Feuersham in Kent 
 a Gentleman named Arden most cruellie murthered and slaine by 
 the procurement of hys owne wife. The which murther^for the 
 horriblenesse thereof, although otherwise it may seeme to bee but 
 a priuate matter, and therefore as it were impertinent to thys 
 Hyslorie, I have thought good to sette it foorth somewhat at large, 
 having the instructions delyuered to me by them that have vsed 
 some diligence to gather the true vnderstanding of the circum- 
 stances. 
 
 Thys Arden was a manne of a tall and comelye personage, 
 and matched in maryagc with a, Gentlewoman, yong, tall, and well 
 fauoured of shape and countenaunce, who chauncing to fall in 
 familiaritie with one Moshye, a Tayler by occupation, a blacke 
 swart man, seruaunt to the Lorde North, it happened thys Mosby 
 vpon some misliking to fall out with hir, blit she being desirous 
 to be in fauour with him againe, sent him a paire of siluer Dice 
 by one Adam Foide , dwelling at the Floure de Lice in Feuersham. 
 After which he resorted to hir againe, and oftentymes lay in Ardens 
 house, insomuch that within two yeares after he obteyned suche 
 fauour at hir handes, that he laye wyth hir, or (as they terme it) 
 kept hir, in abusing hir bodie. And although (as it was sayde) 
 Maister Arden perceyued right wel their mutuall familiaritie to be 
 muche greater than fheyr honestie, yet bycause he woulde not 
 ofFende hir, and so lose the benefite which he hoped to gaine at 
 some of hir friendes handes in bearing with hir lewdnesse, which 
 he might haue lost if he should haue fallen out with hir, he was 
 contented to winke at hir filthie disorder, and both permitted and 
 also inuited Mosby verie often to lodge in his house. And thus 
 it continued a good space before anye practise was begonne by 
 them agaynst Maister Ardeti. Shee at length inflamed in loue with 
 
 ') An Essay on the Tragedy of Arden of Feversliam, by C. E. Donne 
 (Vicar of Feversham), 1873. 
 
 ') English Dramatic Literature, vol. I, p. 45 1 seqq. 
 
 ^) Holinshed's Chronicle of England, ed. 1577, p. I703seqq. 
 
INTRODUCTION. XI 
 
 Mosbye, and loathing hir husbande, wyshed and after practised 
 the meane howe to hasten his ende. 
 
 I. 248 — 409. There was a Painter dwelling in Feuersham, 
 who had skill of poysons (as was reported); she therefore demaunded 
 of him, whether it were true that he had suche skill in that 
 feate or not, and he denyed not but that he had in deede. Yea 
 (sayde she) but 1 woulde have suche a one made as shoulde haue 
 most vehement and speedie operation to dispatche the eater there- 
 of: that can I doe (quoth hee) and forthwith made hir suche a 
 one , and willed hir to put it into the bottom of a Porenger, and 
 then after to poure Mylke vpon it, which circumstance she for- 
 getting did cleane contrarie, putting in the Mylke first, and after- 
 warde the poyson. Now Maister Arden purposing that daye to ride 
 to Canterburie , his wife brought him hys breakfast, whiche was 
 woont to bee mylke and Butter: he hauing receyued a spooneful 
 or two of the Mylke mislyked the tast and colour thereof, and 
 sayd to his wife Mistres Ales what milk haue you giuen me here? 
 Wherewithal! she tylted it ouer with hir hande, saying, I wene 
 nothing can please you. Then hee tooke horse and road towardes 
 Canierhurie , and by the way fell into extreeme purging vpwards 
 and downwardes and so escaped for that time. 
 
 I. 448 — 591. After this, his wife fell in acquaintance with 
 one Greene of Feuersham, seruant to Sir Anthony Ager, from which 
 Green maister Arden had wrested a peece of ground on the back- 
 side of the Abbey of Feuersham, and there had blowes and great 
 threates passed betwixt them about that matter. Therefore shee 
 knowing that Greene hated hir husband began to practise with 
 him how to make him away, and concluded that if he could get 
 any that wold kil him, he shuld haue ten pounds for a reward. 
 
 II. I. This Greene, hauing doings for his master Sir Anlhonye 
 Ager, had occasion to goe vp to London, where his maister then 
 lay, and hauing some charge vp with him, desired one Bradshaw 
 a goldsmith oi" Feuersham that was his neighbour, to accompanie 
 him to Grauesend, and he wold content him for his paines. This 
 Bradshaw being a verie honest man, was content, and roade with 
 him, and when they came to Rainham doivn, they chaunced to 
 see three or foure seruing men, that were comming from Leedcs, 
 and therewith Bradshaw espied comming vp the hill from Ro- 
 chester one black Will a terrible cruell ruffian with a sword and 
 a buckler, and an other with a great staflfe on his necke. Then 
 sayde Bradshaio to Greene, we are happie that here commeth 
 some companie from Leedes, for here commeth vp agaynst vs as 
 murthering a knaue as any is in England, if it were not for them 
 we might chance hardly to escape without losse of our money and 
 hues. Yea, thought Greene (as he after confessed) such a one is 
 for my purpose, and therefore asked, which is he? Yonder is he, 
 quoth Bradshaw, the same that hath the sword and Buckler: his 
 
XII INTRODUCTION. 
 
 name is blacke Will. Howe knowe you that, sayde Greene? 
 Bradshaw aunswered, I knew him at Bollongne, where we both 
 serued, he was a souldiour, and I was Sir Richard Cauendishes man, 
 and there he committed many robberies and heynous murders on 
 such as trauailed betwixt Bollongne and France. By this time the 
 other companie of seruing men came to them, and they going all 
 togither, met with black Will and his fellow. The seruing men 
 knew black Wil, and saluting him, demaunded of him whither he went, 
 he answered by his bloud (for his use was to swear almost at euery 
 word) I know not, nor care not, but set vp my staffe, and euen 
 as it falleth I goe. If thou (quoth they) wilt go back againe to 
 Grauesend, we will giue thee thy supper; by his blood (sayd he) 
 I care not, I am content, haue with you, and so he returned againe 
 with them. Then black Will tooke acquaintance of Bradshaw, 
 saying felow Bradshaw, how dost thou? Bradshaw vnwilling to 
 renue acquaintance, or to haue ought to doe with so shamelesse 
 a ruffian, said. Why, do ye know me? Yea, that I do (quoth he) 
 did not we serue in Bollongne togither? But ye must pardon me 
 (quoth Bradshaw) for I haue forgotten you. Then Green talked 
 with black Wil, and said, when ye haue supped come to my 
 hostesse house at such a signe, and I wil giue you the Seek and 
 sugar. By his bind (said he) I thank you, I wil come, and take 
 it, I warrant you. According to his promise he came, and there 
 they made good chare. Then black Will and Green went and 
 talked apart from Bradshaw, and there concluded togither that if 
 he would kill maister Arden, he should have ten pound for his 
 labour, then he aunswered, by hys wounds that I wil, if I may 
 knowe him; marie to morrow in Poules I will shew him thee, sayd 
 Greene. Then they lefte their talke, and Greene bade hym goe 
 home to his hostes house. 
 
 Then Greene wrote a letter to mistres Arden, and among other 
 things, put in these words 'we haue gote a man for our purpose, 
 we may thanke my brother Bradshaw.^ Now, Bradshaw, not knowing 
 any thing of this, toke the letter of him, and in the morning de- 
 parted home agayne, and deliuered the letter to Mistresse Arden, 
 and Greene and blacke Will went vp to London at the tide. 
 
 II. 2. At the time appoynted, Greene shewed blacke Will 
 maister Arden walking in Poules. Then sayde blacke Will, what is 
 hee that goeth after him? marie, sayd Greene, one of his men. By 
 hys bloud, said blacke Will, 1 wil kil them both. Nay, said Greene, 
 do not so , for he is of counsel with vs in this matter. By his 
 bloud, sayd he, I care not for that, I will kill them both. Nay, 
 sayde Greene, in any wise do not so. Then blacke Wil thought 
 to haue killed Maister Arden in Poules Church -yarde, but there 
 were so many Gentlemen that accompanyed him to dinner, that 
 he missed of his purpose. Greene shewed all this talke to maister 
 Arden's man, whose name was Michael, whych euer after stoode in 
 
INTRODUCTION. XIII 
 
 doubt of blacke Will, least he should kill him. The cause that this 
 Michael conspired with the rest against his maister was, for that 
 it was determined that he should marrie a kinswoman of Mosbyes. 
 After this, maister Arden lay at a certaine Personage which he held 
 in London, and therefore his man Michaell and Greene agreed that 
 blacke Will should come in the night to the personage , where he 
 should fynd the dores left open, that hee mighte come in, and 
 murther maister Arden. This Michael hauing his maister to bed, 
 left open the dores according to the appointment. His master 
 then being in bed, asked him if he had shut fast the dores, and 
 he said yea: but yet afterwards, fearing least black Will woulde kill 
 him as well as his maister, after hee was in bed himselfe, hee rose 
 agayne and shut the dores, bolting them fast, so that black Will 
 comming thither, and finding the dores shutte, departed being dis- 
 appoynted at that time. The nexte day, blacke Wil came to Greene 
 in a great chafe, swearing and staring, bycause hee was so deceyued, 
 and with many terrible othes, threatned to kil maister Ardens man 
 first, wheresoeuer he met him. No, said Greene, do not so, I will 
 first know the cause of shutting the dores. Then Greetie met and 
 talked with Arden's man, and asked of hym, why he did not leaue 
 open the dores according to his promise. Marie, said Michael, I 
 will shew you the cause. My master yesternight did that he neuer 
 did before, for after I was a bedde, he rose vp, and shut the 
 dores, and in the morning rated me for leaning them vnshut. And 
 herewith Greene and black Wil were pacified. Arden being ready 
 to goe homewards, his maid came to Grene and said, this night 
 wil my maister goe downe, wherevpon it was agreed that blacke 
 Will shoulde kyll him on Raynam downe. When maister Arden came 
 to Rochester, his man stil fearing that blacke Wil would kil him 
 with his maister, pricked his horse of purpose, and made him to 
 hault to the ende he mighte protract the time and tarrie behinde, 
 hys maister asked him why his horse halted, he sayd, I know not. 
 Wei, quoth his maister, when ye come at the Smith here before 
 (betwene Rochester and the hil foote ouer againste Cheelam) remoue 
 hys shoe and search him, and then come after me. So maister 
 Arden rode on, and ere he came at the place where blacke Wil 
 lay in waite for him, there ouertooke him diuers Gentlemen of his 
 acquaintance who kept him company, so that black Will mist here 
 also of his purpose. 
 
 [After that maister Arden was come home, he sent (as he 
 vsually did) his man to Shepey to sir Tho. Cheny, then L.. Warden 
 of the cinque ports, about certain busines, and at his comming 
 away, hee had a letter deliuered sent by Sir Tho. Cheny to his 
 maister. When hee came home, his mistres toke the letter and 
 kept it, willing hir man to tel his maister that he had a letter de- 
 liuered him by Sir Tho. Cheny and that he had lost it: adding 
 that he thought it best that his maister shuld goe the next morning 
 
XIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 to Sir Tho. bycause he knew not the matter: he said he would, 
 and therefore he willed his man to be starring betimes. In thys 
 meane while blacke Wil and one George Shakebag ') his companyon 
 were kept in a store house of Sir Anthony Agers at Preslon,hy 
 Greenes appoyntment, and thither came mistresse Arden ■ to see him, 
 bringing and sending him meate and drinke many times.] 
 
 IV. He therfore lurking there and watching some opportunitie 
 for his purpose, was willed in any wise to be vp earely in the morning 
 to lie in waite for maister Arden in a certayne brome close betwixt 
 Feuersham and the Fery (which close he must needes passe) and 
 there to doe his feat. Now blacke Wil sturred in the morning be- 
 times, but hee mist the way and taried in a wrong place. Maister 
 Arden and his man comming on their way erely in the morning 
 towards Shornelan where sir Tho. Cheyny lay, as they were 
 almost come to the brome close, his man alwayes fearing that 
 black Wil would kill him with hys maister, feined that he had lost 
 his purse. Why, said his maister, thou foolish knaue, couldest thou 
 not looke to thy purse, but lose it? \Vhat was in it? three pound, 
 said he. Why, then goe thy wayes backe agayne lyke a knaue, 
 said his Maister, and seeke it, for beeing so earely as it is, there 
 is no man stirring, and therfore thou maist be sure to find it, and 
 then come and ouertake me at the Fery. But neuerthelesse by 
 reason that black Wil lost his way, maister Arden escaped yet once 
 agayne. At that time black Will yet thought he should have bin 
 sure to haue met him homewardes, but whether that some of the 
 L. Wardens men accompanyed him backe to Feuersham, or that 
 being in doubt for that it was late, to goe through the broomye 
 close, and therefore tooke another way, black Wil was disappointed 
 then also. But now St. Valentines faire being at hand, the con- 
 spirators thought to dispatch their diuelish intention at that tyme. 
 Mosby minded to picke some quarrell to maister Arden at the faire 
 to fight with him, for he sayde he could not find in his hart to 
 murther a gentleman in that sort as his wife wished, although she 
 had made a solemne promise to him, and hee againe to hir, to 
 be in all poynts as man and wife togither, and therevppon they 
 both receiued the Sacrament one Sonday at London openly in a 
 Church there. But this deuise to fight with hym would not serue, 
 for maister Arden both then and at other times had bin gretly 
 prouoked by Mosby to fight with him, but '^hee would not. 
 
 V. Now Mosby had a sister that dwelt in a tenemente of 
 master Ardens neere to his house in Feuersham, and on the faire 
 euen blacke Will was sente for to come thither, and Greene bringing 
 him thyther, met there with mistres Arden accompanyed with 
 Michael hir man and one of hir maides. There were also Mosby 
 
 1) 'His real name was Loosebag. He was born at Seasalter, and bred 
 to the sea'. Donne, 1. c, p. 12 from the Wardmote hook. 
 
, INTRODUCTION. XV 
 
 and George Shakebag, and there they deuised to haue him killed 
 in manner as afterwards he was, but }et Moshy at the first, woulde 
 not agree to that cowardly murthering of him, but in a fury flong 
 away and went vp the Abbey slreete toward the Flower de lice, the 
 house of the afore mentioned Adam Foules where he did often host. 
 But before he came thither now at this time, a messenger ouer- 
 tooke him that was sente from mistres Arden, desiring him of all 
 loues to come backe again to help to accomplish the matter he 
 knewe of. Heerevpon he returned to hir again, and at his com- 
 ming back, she fel downe vpon hir knees to him, and besought 
 him to goe through with the matter, as if he loued hir, he would 
 be contented to do: sith, as she had diuers times told him, he 
 needed not to doubt, for there was not any that would care for 
 his death, nor make any great inquirie for them that should dispatch 
 him. Thus she being earnest with him, at length he was contented 
 to agree vnto that horrible deuise, and therevpon they conueyed 
 black Wil into maister Ardens house, putting him into a closet at 
 the end of his Parlour. Before this, they had sent out of the 
 house all the seruants, those excepted which were priuie to the 
 deuised murther. Then went Mosbie to the dore, and there stood 
 in a nighte gowne of silke girded about him, and this was be- 
 twixte sixe and seuen of the clocke at nighte. Master Arden hauing 
 bene at a neighbors house of his named Dumpkin, and hauing 
 cleered certaine reconings betwixt them came home, and finding 
 Mosby standing at the dore, asked him if it were supper time. I 
 thinke not, quoth Mosby, it is not yet ready. Then lette vs goe 
 and play a game at the tables in the meane season, said master 
 Arden, and so they went streight into the Parlor. And as they 
 came by thorough the Hall, his wife was walking there, and master 
 Arden said, How nowe, mistres Ales? but shee made small aunswer 
 to him. In the meane time, one ch.eined the wicket dore of the 
 entrie. When they came into the Parlor, Mosby sate downe on the 
 bench, hauing his face toward the place where blacke Will stoode. 
 Then Michdell, master Arden's man, stoode at his masters backe, 
 holding a candell in his hand to shadowe blacke Wil that Arden 
 might by no meanes perceive hym comming forth. In their pley 
 Mosby said thus (whiche seemed to be the watch word for blacke 
 Will comming forth), Nowe may I take you. Sir, if I will. Take 
 me, quoth master Arden, whych way? With that black Will stept 
 forth, and cast a towell aboute his necke, so to stoppe his breath 
 and strangle him. Then Mosby hauing at hys girdle a pressing 
 iron of 14 pound weight, stroke him on the head with the same, 
 so that he fel downe and gaue a great grone, in so much that 
 they thought hee had bin killed. Then they bare him away to 
 ley him in the counting house, and as they were about to ley him 
 down, the pangs of death comming on him, he gaue a great grone 
 and stretched himselfe, and then black Wil gaue him a great gash 
 
XVI INTRODUCTION. i 
 
 in the face, and so killed him out of hand, laid him along, tooke 
 the money out of his purse, and the rings from hys fingers, and 
 then comming out of the counting house said. Now this feate is 
 done, giue me my money, so mistres Arden gaue him ten lb.: and 
 he commyng to Grene, had a horse of him, and so rode his ways. 
 After that black Wil was gone, mistres Arden came into the counting 
 house, and with a knife gaue him seven or eight pricks into 
 the brest. Then they made cleen the Parlor, tooke a cloute, and 
 wiped where it was bloudy, and strewed agayne the rushes that 
 were shuffled with strugling, and cast the clout with which they 
 wiped the bloud and the knife that was bloudy wherewith she had 
 wounded hir husband into a tubbe by the welles side, wher after- 
 ward both the same cloute and knife were founde. Thus thys 
 wicked woman with hir complices most shamefully murthered hir 
 owne husband who most entierly loued hir al his life time. Then 
 she sente for two Londoners to supper, the one named Prune and 
 the other Cole, that were Grosers, which before the murther was 
 committed were bidden to supper. When they came, she said, I 
 maruell where master Arden is: wel, we wil not tarie for him, come 
 ye, and sitte downe, for he will not be long. Then Mosbyes sister 
 was sente for, she came and sate downe, and s5 they were merrie. 
 After supper, mistres Arden caused hir daughter to play on 
 the virginals, they danced, and she with them, and so seemed to 
 protract time as it were, til maister Arden shuld come; and she 
 said, I maruel where he is so long, wel, hee will come anone I 
 am sure, I pray you in the meane while let vs play a game at the 
 tables. But the Londoners said they must goe to their hostes house, 
 or else they shuld be shut out at dores, and so taking their leaue 
 departed. When they were gone, the seruants that were not priuie 
 to the murther were sent abrode into the lowne, some to seeke 
 their maister, and some of other errands, all sauing Michael and 
 a maid, Mosbyes sister, and one of mistresse Ardens own daughters. 
 Then they tooke the dead body and caryed it out to lay it in a 
 fielde next to the Churche yard, and ioyning to his garden wall, 
 through the which be went to the Church. In the meane time it 
 began to snow, and when they came to the garden gate, they re- 
 membred that they had forgotten the kay, and one wente in for 
 it, and finding it, at length brought it, opened the gate, and caried 
 the corps into the same field, as it were ten paces from the garden 
 gate, and laid him downe on his backe straight in his night gowne, 
 with his slippers on, and betwene one of his slippers and his foote 
 a long rush or two remained. When they had thus laid him down, 
 they returned the same way they came through the garden into 
 the house. They beeyng returned thus backe again into the house, 
 the dores were opened and. the seruaunts returned home that had 
 bin sent abrode, and being now very late, she sent forthe hir folkes 
 againe to make enquirie for him in diuers places, namely among 
 
INTRODUCTION. XVII 
 
 the best in the towne where he was wont to be, who made 
 answere that they could tel nothing of him. Then she began to 
 make an outcry, and said, neuer woman had such neighbors as I 
 haue, and herewith wepte, in so much, that hir neighbors came in 
 and found hir making great lamentation, pretending to maruell 
 what was become of hir husbande: wherupon the Maior and others 
 came to make search fo him. The faire was wont to bee kepte 
 partly in the towne and partly in the Abbey, but Arden for his 
 owne priuate lucre and couetous gaine had this present yere pro- 
 cured it to be wholly kept within the Abbey ground whiche he 
 had purchased, and so reaping al the gaynes to himselfe, and be- 
 reauing the towne of that portion which was wont to come to the 
 inhabitants, gote manye a bitter curse. The Maior going about 
 the faire in this search, at length came to the ground where Arden 
 lay, and as it happened Prune the grosser getting sight of him 
 first said, Stay, for me thinke I see one lye heere, and so they 
 looking and beholding the body, found that it was master Arden 
 lying there througly dead, and viewing diligently the maner of 
 his body and hurtes, founde the rushes sticking in his slippers, 
 and marking further espyed certaine footesteppes by reason of the 
 snowe, betwixt the place wher he lay, and the garden dore. Then 
 the Maior commanded euery man to stay, and herewith appointed 
 some to goe about, and to come in at the inner side of the house 
 thorough the garden as the way lay to the place where maister 
 Ardens dead body did lye, who al the way as they came perceyued 
 footings still before them in the snowe, and so it appeared playnely 
 that he was brought along that way from the house thorough 
 the garden, and so into the field wher he lay. Then the Maior 
 and his company that were with him went into the house, and 
 knowing hir euil demeanor in times past, examined hir of the 
 matter, but she defyed them, and said, I would you should know 
 I am no such woman. Then they examined hir seruants, and in 
 the examination by reason of a peece of his heare and bloud 
 founde neere to the house in the way by the which they caried 
 him forth, and likewise by the knife with which she had thrust 
 him into the brest, and the cloute wherewith they wipt the bloud 
 away whiche they found in the tubbe, into the which the same 
 were throwen, they al confessed the matter, and hirself beholding 
 hir husbands bloud, said, Oh the bloud of God help, for this bloud 
 have I shed. Then were they al attached and committed to prison. 
 And the Maior with others presently went to the floiver de lice, 
 where they found Mosby in bed; and as they came towards him, 
 they espyed his hose and purse stayned with some of maister 
 Ardens bloud; and when he asked what they meant by their comming 
 in such sort, they said, See, here ye may vnderstande wherefore, 
 by these tokens, shewing him the bloud on his hose and purse. 
 Then he confessed the deede, and so he and al the other that 
 
 I) 
 
XVIII INTRODUCTION. 
 
 had conspired the murther, were apprehended and layd in prison, 
 excepte Grene , black Wil, and the Pander, which Painter and 
 George Shakebag that was also fledde before, were neuer heard of. 
 Shortly were the Sessions kept at Feuersham, where all the prisoners 
 were araigned and condemned. And therevpon being examined 
 whither they had any other complices, mistres Arden accused 
 Bradshaw vppon occasion of the letter sent by Greene from Graves- 
 end (as before ye haue heard) which words hadde none other 
 meaning, but onely by Bradshaives describing of blacke Willes 
 qualities, Greene iudged him a meete instrument for the execution of 
 their pretended murther: wherevnto notwithstanding (as Greene con- 
 fessed at his death certaine yeares after) this Bradshaw was neuer 
 made priuie, howbeit he was vppon this accusation of mistres Arden 
 immediately sent for to the Sessions and indited, and declaration 
 made against him, as a procurer of blacke Will to kill maister Arden, 
 which proceeded wholly by misvnderstanding of the wordes con- 
 teyned in the letter which he brought from Greene. Then hee 
 desired to talke with the persons condemned, and his request was 
 graunted : hee therefore demaunded of them if they knew him, or 
 euer had any conuersation with him, and they all said no. Then 
 the letter being shewed and redde, he declared the very trueth of 
 the matter, and vpon what occasion he tolde Greene of blacke Wil; 
 neuertheless hee was condemned and suffered. These condemned 
 persons were diuersly executed in sundry places : for Michaell 
 maister Ardens man was hanged in chaynes at Feuersham, and one 
 of the maides was brent there, pitifully bewailing hir case, and 
 cryed out on hir mistres that had brought hir to this'ende, for 
 the whiche she would neuer forgiue hir. Mosby and his sister were 
 hanged in Smiihfielde at London, Mistres Arden was burned at 
 Caiinterhiry the 14 of March: Greene came againe certayne yeares 
 after, was apprehended, condemned, and hanged in cheynes in 
 the hygh way betwixt Ospring and Boughton agaynste Feuersham; 
 black Wil was brent on a scaffolde at Flishing in Zeland. Adam' 
 Foule that dwelte at the floure de lice in Feuersham was broughte 
 into trouble about this matter, and caried vp to London with his 
 legges bound under the horse belly, and committed to prison in 
 the Marshalsey, for that Mosby was heard to say, had it not .bin 
 for Adam Foule, I hadde not come to this trouble, meaning that 
 the bringing of the siluer dice for a token to him from mistres 
 Arden, as ye haue heard, occasioned him to renue familiaritie with 
 hir againe. But when the matter was througly ripped vp, and that 
 Mosby had clered him protesting that he was neuer of knowledge 
 in any behalfe to the murther, the mans innocencie preserued him. 
 This one thing seemeth verye straunge and notable touching master 
 Arden, that in the place where he was layd being dead, all the 
 proportion of his body might be seene two yeares after and more, 
 as playne as could be; for the grasse did not growe where his 
 
INTRODUCTION. XIX 
 
 body hadde touched, but betweene his legges, betweene hys armes, 
 and about the holowness of his necke, and round about his body, 
 and where his legges, armes, head, or any parte of his body hadde 
 touched, no grasse growed at all of all that time; so that many 
 strangers came in that meane time beside the Townesmen to see 
 the print of his body there on the ground in that field, which 
 field he hadde (as some haue reported) cruelly taken from a woman 
 that had bin a widow to one Coolie, and after maried to one 
 Richarde Read a mariner, to the great hinderance of hir and hir 
 husband the sayd Read, for they had long enioyed it by a leasse 
 whiche they had of it for many yeares not then expired: neuerthe- 
 lesse he got it from them, for the which the saide Reades wife not 
 only exclaymed against him, in sheading many a salte teare, but 
 also cursed him most bitterly euen to his face, wishing many a 
 vengeance to light vpon him and that all the worlde might wonder 
 on hym: which was thought then to come to passe, when hee was 
 thus murthered, and lay in that fielde from midnight till the morning, 
 and so all that day, being the fayre day, till night, all the whyche 
 daye there were many hundreds of people came wondering aboute 
 hym. And thus farre touching this horrible and haynous murther 
 of roaster Arden. 
 
 As we have mentioned above, Jacob was the first to ascribe 
 Arden of Fever sham to Shakespeare. The arguments, however, by 
 which he tried to establish this hypothesis are far from being per- 
 suasive. He contents himself with selecting a certain number of 
 mere conventional phrases and expressions, common to the author 
 of our play and to Shakespeare. It is indeed strange that Jacob 
 himself was not struck with the fact that those phrases belong not 
 to a single author, but to the whole age, and that the same ex- 
 pressions may easily be found in the works of any poet living at 
 the end of the sixteenth or in the beginning of the seventeenth 
 century. Once started, however, the Shakespeare-theory soon met 
 with more advocates. The German poet Ludwig Tieck made Arden 
 of Feversham with some other so-called Pseudo-shakespearian Plays 
 known to his countrymen by translating them in his ' Shakepeare's 
 Vorschule, Leipzig, 1823, vol.1.') In the introductory essay pre- 
 ceding his edition Tieck gives an analysis of the play and finds 
 that the plot of it is so properly conducted and the characters so 
 
 ') Other German translations of our play were produced by H. Doring 
 (Gotha 1833; 2"(1 ed., Erfurt 1840) and by K. Orllepp, Nachtrage zu Shake- 
 speare, vol. III., ,p. I — 112. 
 
 b* 
 
XX INTRODUCTION. 
 
 excellently developed that it is well worthy of Shakespeare, and 
 that it would be difficult to attribute it to any other contemporary 
 play-wright. i) His theory and arguments were adopted by N. Delius 
 in his edition of the play. Independently of Tieck, Ch. Knight 
 (Pictorial Shakespeare) and Meziires in his Pr(idecesseurs de Shake- 
 speare, and lastly Mr. Swinburne in his Study of Shakespeare have 
 come to the same conclusion. Mr. Donne, Prof. Ward, and Mr. 
 BuUen reject Jacob's theory of Shakespeare's authorship as a whole, 
 but think it at least possible that 'Arden, in its present state, has 
 been retouched here and there by the master's hand.' (BuUen, 
 p. XVll). In a similar manner Mr. Symonds in Shakespeare's Pre- 
 decessors, though loth in absence of any external evidence to 
 ascribe Arden of Fever sham to Shakespeare, yet feels inclined to 
 recognise in the character of Mrs. Arden, with Mr. Swinburne, the 
 eldest born of that group to which Lady Macbeth and Dionysa 
 belong by right of weird sisterhood.' 2) 
 
 The only critic who decidedly pronounces against Shakespeare's 
 authorship of Arden of Feversham is the late Professor Ulrici who 
 in his Shakespeare's Dramatische Kunst (3'^ ed., p. 88 seqq.) very 
 carefully points out all that may be said against the hypothesis 
 started by Jacob. After mature reflection we cannot but accede 
 to the learned Professor's arguments, and every unbiassed reader, 
 we hope, will arrive at the same conclusion. 
 
 First of all, it must seem very doubtful whether Shakespeare 
 would have chosen for his subject a story which moves in a different 
 sphree from his own tragedies, and which is in the highest degree 
 loathsome and disgusting. But, if he had, he would, we are sure. 
 
 ') Of the same opinion is Fran9ois Victor Hugo (the son of the great 
 poet) who translated the Pseudo-shakespearian Plays into French, as an appen- 
 dix to his Qiuvres completes de W. Shakespeare, 18 vols, Paris i860 — 1867; 
 cp. Introduction aux Apocryphcs, vol. I, p. 7 seqq., vol. II, p. 47 seqq. 
 
 -) G. B. Kuitert, in his Dutch translation of our play (Meesterstukken 
 onder Shakespeare's Pseudo-Dramas, vertaald en toegelicht door G. B. K., 
 Leiden 1882) thinks it not unlikely that Shakespeare, when settling at an 
 early period in London , met with some minor playwright , who had availed 
 himself of the story of Mr. Arden as related in Holinshed's Chronicle. Struck 
 with the thought that his mother, an Arden of Wilmecote , might have been 
 a lunswoman to the gentleman of Feversham , Shakespeare joined with the 
 unknown dramatist and, in all probability, worked up into shape the characters 
 of Alice and Mosbie. Cp., 1. <.., p. 140 seqq. 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXI 
 
 even in the beginning of his dramatic career have conducted the 
 plot in a less languid and monotonous manner. Not an attempt 
 is made to relieve by a secondary action the dreadful scenes of 
 which the play is composed. The murder of Arden is concerted 
 directly in the first scene; .the following three acts form a scries 
 of attempts to execute the hateful project, until at length in 
 the fifth act it is brought about. And the misdeed is always 
 prevented, not by things essential to the development of the story 
 or the characters, but by quite external accidents, such as certainly 
 occur in life, but which may well be spared in a dramatic poem. 
 In none of his plays has Shakespeare chosen to develop a plot in 
 such a meagre, chronicle-like manner, and in none of his plays 
 has he thought it necessary to excuse, as it were, his own play, 
 as the author of Arden does in the Epilogue: 
 
 Gentlemen, zve hope yoide pardon this tiaked tragedy, 
 Wherin no filed points are foisted in 
 To make it gratious to the eare or eye. 
 Not only has the story which forms the subject of the play, 
 been prosily constructed, but it also wants the basis necessary for 
 justifying the tragical issue of it. Mr. Arden is represented as a 
 very weak character; moreover he is avaricious and greedy in 
 taking the Abbey-lands from Greene, hard and unfair to Reede 
 the Sailor; but has he therefore deserved to be slaughtered by 
 hired ruffians and his own wife? In fact, he was; Holinshed relates 
 the murder and all the particulars, and the documents preserved 
 at Feversham prove it; but a poet like Shakespeare would certainly 
 have discerned that the story as given by the chronicler was unfit 
 to form the groundwork of a drama, unless the hero of it appear 
 poetically to have deserved his fate. It is the more surprising that 
 the author of the play quite neglected this all-important point, as 
 Holinshed himself suggests a circumstance which must have made 
 Arden contemptible to his own wife as well as to the audience 
 for which the play was intended. 'Although, Holinshed says, Arden 
 perceyued right wel their (Mosbie's and his wife's) mutuall familia- 
 ritie to be muche greater than theyr honestie, yet bycause he woulde 
 not offende hir, and so lose the benefite which he hoped to gaine at 
 some of hir friendes handes in bearing with hir lewdnesse, which 
 he might haue lost if he should haue fallen out with hir, he was 
 contented to winke at hir filthie disorder.' And if the author 
 
XXII INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of the play, as he seems to do, wished us to believe that 
 Arden ^Tas first faithless to his wife, it was not sufficient to inform 
 us of that blemish only through the mouth of Mrs. Arden (I. 497seqq.). 
 Thus omitting every feature in Arden's character which might not 
 truly, but poetically justify Arden's murder, the author of the play 
 committed one of the greatest faults that may be discerned in a 
 dramatic poem, a fault which we cannot suppose even in an early 
 performance of England's great poet. 
 
 As to the scenes of the play themselves, it must be owned 
 that part of them are possessed of dramatic life and interest. 
 Every one will be impressed by the monologue in which Michael 
 in the middle of the night is seized with pity for his unlucky 
 master and struck with fear for his own life, and at the end of 
 which his terror unconsciously bursts forth into a cry that awakens 
 his master and saves his life for that time. Likewise a certain 
 vigour must be allowed to the scene in which Francklin on 
 approaching the spot where the murderers are hidden is prevented 
 by an ominous indisposition from continuing his story about a 
 disloyal wife. The same remarks apply to the fourth act when 
 Alice repenting of her trespasses tries to turn from sin, but finally 
 gets only the faster linked to Mosbie her evil demon. But freely 
 granting their merits, nobody can pretend that any of these scenes 
 bears the evident stamp of Shakespeare's mind in its composition. 
 On the other hand, a number of incidents are to be met with in 
 the course of the play which seem to be quite unworthy of Shake- 
 speare. The scenes in which Clarke the painter plays a prominent 
 part, the prosy conversatbn of Arden with Francklin, the jokes of 
 the Ferryman, the quarrel of the two Ruffians can by no means 
 be ascribed to Shakespeare. And can we suppose that Shakespeare 
 set before his audience the undeserved fate of poor Bradshaw? 
 Alice, in our play, seems sincerely to repent of her dreadful crime; 
 was it not her duty to have the poor victim whom she knew not 
 to have been privy to her intents, rescued from the hands of the 
 hangman? Everywhere the author of the play is content to 
 follow Holinshed's report, not caring whether the historical events 
 are such as are required in a dramatic poem. 
 
 A play the structure of which shows such deficiencies, cannot 
 be attributed to Shakespeare, and the less so as the characters 
 are far from being drawn in Shakespeare's manner. 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXUI 
 
 The character which has most of all induced critics to 
 attribute our play to Shakespeare, is that of Alice Arden. The first 
 moment she appears before our eyes, we learn that her husband's 
 suspicions are all too well based, that awake and asleep all her 
 thoughts are engrossed by Mosbie and his love. Her unchaste 
 passion has absorbed all other feelings in her breast: she does not 
 care for her own reputation nor for the good name of her husband 
 and her family; all sense of honour and duty is dead in her. Only 
 once in the course of the play does she remember her former 
 innocent and happy life: she resolves to break off all intimacy with 
 Mosbie and be again ' Arden's honest wife '. But she is, at it were, 
 under the imperious will of a malignant demon. •^The bitter irony 
 and utter contempt with which her paramour treats her, do not 
 open her eyes : in a few minutes she repents of her resolution and 
 gets reconciled to Mosbie. When tearing the leaves out of the 
 prayer-book, she drives her good angel that for a moment had 
 returned to her, far away. Henceforward she is only the faster in 
 the clutches of Vetms Lihiiina, the inexorable goddess of love and 
 death. Death, the death of her husband, is the way which in her 
 opinion will lead her to happiness; and from the very beginning 
 she enters without any reluctance that loathsome path. No ob- 
 stacle and no failure discourages her: the many confederate rascals 
 around her are much inferior to her in pluck and audacity. 
 Michael, who, informed of Alice's design, immediately plots the 
 death of his own brother, shrinks back from betraying his master 
 when the fatal hour draws near; Greene, though deeply offended 
 as he thinks himself by Arden, and Mosbie, the wretched villain, 
 whose selfishness makes him plot a whole series of murders, even 
 including that of Alice, do not venture to lay hands on Arden; 
 even the hired ruffians, accustomed as they are to ill deeds, are 
 afraid of shedding the blood of an innocent man. Alice alone 
 remains undismayed: she engages the painter, Michael, Greene, 
 Mosbie, to make away with her husband ; she welcomes Black Will 
 and Shakebag in her own house in a most revolting manner. Far 
 from being abashed by any failure, she untiringly finds new devices 
 and cunningly makes use of all possible means to execute her 
 dreadful design. And when at length she has succeeded, when 
 her husband, struck by the cut-throats, lies groaning on the ground, 
 she takes courage to give him herself the coup de grace: 
 
XXIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ' Take this for hindering Mosbie's love and mine.' 
 After the deed is done, all murderers turn cowards: each 
 of them only thinks of flight to save his own life. Alice alone is 
 fearless and does everything necessary to remove suspicion and 
 secure the fruit she wishes for. If indeed the poet of the play 
 had the intention to show us how far the unlawful passion and 
 immoderate desire of a woman may go to get her purpose, we 
 cannot but say that he has well succeeded. But not as a tigress- 
 woman, not as a monstrum mulieris is Alice Arden to be delivered 
 oyer to the hangman. Near the corpse of her husband she returns 
 to humanity, and by her repentance no less than by her death she 
 expiates the dreadful crime to which unhallowed desire had driven 
 her. It is true that the last scenes of the play are rather hurriedly 
 worked out, and that as to some minor points, such as the fate 
 of poor Bradshaw, the poet would better not have followed so 
 closely Holinshed's account: nevertheless there can be no doubt 
 that the author of the play has given us in Alice Arden a character, 
 repulsive it is true, yet full of vigour and life, a character indeed 
 that may in a manner be considered as a predecessor of Lady 
 Macbeth and Dionysa. 
 
 The frantic love which Alice bears to Arden, somewhat at 
 least excuses her brutal conduct; her sincere repentance poetically 
 expiates her dreadful crime. Her paramour Mosbie, on the con- 
 trary, is a vulgar wretch, unable alike to conceive any higher senti- 
 ment, or to atone his grievous sin by repentance. Mean by birth, 
 Mosbie is so in whatever he does. It is not love that influences 
 his actions; directly in the beginning he seems inclined to break 
 off the dangerous intimacy with Alice, and on different occasions 
 he uses the vilest and most revolting language towards her; he 
 even goes so far as to think it necessary to sacrifice Alice as she 
 has done her husband. The motive of all his actions is to get hold 
 of Arden's property. It is to be expected that such a character, 
 would be timorous and dastardly in his whole demeanour. Mosbie is 
 not so bold as to touch Arden himself, and when according to his 
 advice Arden is insidiously murdered in his own house, he stabs at 
 him for no higher motive than to revenge an injurious word used by 
 Arden against him. For such a character remorse is impossible and 
 redemption inconceivable. He dies, and the last word he breathes 
 from his polluted lips is a curse against Alice and all womankind. 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXV 
 
 How is it to be explained that Alice is attached to such an 
 abject fellow as Mosbie? Ulrici finds it a fault in the composition 
 of our play that the author gives no answer to that question. But 
 just as in life people are often seen perfectly blinded by a passion 
 at once inconceivable and contemptible to all around them, so the 
 author of A? Jen of Fevershdm wished Alice to appear to us as so 
 absolutely controlled by her passion as to set aside the voice of 
 reason and those sentiments by which men are usually guided. 
 Had the poet explained Alice's attachment in a different way, had 
 he for instance given any noble feature to Mosbie's character, the 
 tragical development of the play would certainly have lost much 
 of its importance. 
 
 Alice and Mosbie are the most interesting characters of the 
 play. A certain dramatic skill, however, is not to be denied to 
 some of the minor characters. 
 
 Around Alice and Mosbie are grouped a whole band of 
 scoundrels who more or less directly take part in Arden's death: 
 Clarke the Painter who in lofty terms approves of Alice's intent, 
 and is nothing loth to despatch her husband by baleful poisons; 
 Greene, a religious-minded gentleman, who thinks himself wronged 
 by Arden; Black Will and Shakebag, the professional bragging cut- 
 throats, and Michael, Arden's man. But though possessed of a 
 certain dramatic vigour, there is no drop of Shakespeare's blood 
 in them. The painter, whose bombastic eloquence praises the 
 power of love, and who at the same time is clever in producing 
 poisoned pictures and crucifixes which without doing himself any 
 harm injure those who look at them, must, we are sure, only have 
 raised a smile on Shakespeare's lips. And is it compatible with 
 Greene's religious feelings to plot the murder of his fellow -crea- 
 ture? Michael, the pitious coward, composes a love-letter fit only 
 for his narrow understanding, and directly after paints his repent- 
 ance and anguish of soul in phrases which may almost be called 
 sublime. Likewise Black Will forgets sometimes that he is an 
 abominable cut-throat, and speaks in language little differing from 
 Francklin's prosy speeches. Such glaring contrasts between form 
 of action and form of speech as are to be met with in Arden of 
 Fever shavi, do certainly not occur even in plays which are gene- 
 rally considered as composed in the earliest period of Shakespeare's 
 dramatic activity. 
 
XXVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Quite a failure are the two remaining characters, Arden and 
 his friend Franddin. On no occasion does Arden excite our sym- 
 pathy; we pity him only the moment he finds his undeserved end 
 at the hands of his adulterous wife and her paramour. No quality, 
 .either good or bad, is distinctly sot forth in him. From the first 
 he is aware of the intimacy existing between his wife and Mosbie, 
 and yet far from avenging his outraged honour, he cannot even 
 form the resolution of hindering their unchaste commerce. On 
 the contrary, he pockets up the grossest injuries that a husband 
 may receive, and even invites the rascal to frequent his house and 
 wife more freely than he had done before. And having wounded 
 Mosbie in a quarrel in which his own life was at stake, he abases 
 himself so far as to visit his rival, beg his pardon, and have his 
 well-deserved wounds dressed. His weakness must appear the more 
 contemptible as no motive at all is given for it; neither is sufficient 
 stress laid on his avarice, nor is his passion for his wife such as 
 to render him perfectly blind. He is, indeed, as Mr. Symonds 
 says, a mere clay-figure, and no unbiassed reader will subscribe to 
 Tieck's opinion, who finds Arden 's character throughout the play 
 'noble and amiable.' 
 
 As little interest is excited by Ardcn's friend Francklin. 
 Though always in company with Arden, Francklin takes no part 
 whatever in the action of the play: his conversation is full of com- 
 monplaces, but he never tries to save his unhappy friend by any 
 wholesome advice. Only once does he warn Mr. Arden not to 
 abase himself so much as to beg pardon from Mosbie. But he 
 does it most timidly, and Arden easily hushes him to silence with 
 the words: ' 1 pray Ihee, gentle Franklm, hold thy peace.' It is but 
 after Arden's death that Francklin awakes to life, and endeavours 
 to revenge his friend's death. There can be no doubt that a poet 
 like Shakespeare would haue devised quite a diflfcrent sort of 
 friendship between Arden and Francklin, and that both of them 
 would have borne clearer and more distinct features than they do 
 in our play. 
 
 Thus the characters of the play as well as the structure of it 
 exhibit faults not to be met with even in the juvenile plays of 
 Shakespeare. Nor does the character of the language and the 
 verse allow the play to be ascribed to him. In very few instances 
 only, chiefly in the scenes in which Michael is tormented by fear 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXVII 
 
 and remorse, and in which Arden relates his dream to Francklin, 
 the language rises above the level of common talk, and even there 
 it is far from reaching the sphere in which Shakespeare's fancy 
 used to range. The metre, on the other hand, is so irregular 
 and so often hovers between verse and prose that it is- impossible 
 for us to accede to Knight's opinion that the versification of the 
 play exhibits a freedom of movement possessed by no other poet 
 of the time but Shakespeare. Every reader of Shakespeare knows 
 what liberal use the poet, particularly in his earliest plays, made 
 of rh}med lines. Now, in ArJi:?i of Fcversham only four rhyme- 
 couplets are to be found. That circumstance of itself is almost 
 sufficient to refute an hypothesis started at so late a date, and 
 backed with no plausible argument whatever. 
 
 Though we are of opinion that Shakespeare had nothing to 
 do with Ardcn of Fivcrshain, yet we will freely allow that the author 
 of the play — whoever he may have been, and wo abstain from 
 guessing a name — at an early period presented the English stage 
 with a specimen of a domestic tragedy which is superior to all 
 similar performances of the time. ') 
 
 ') After having finished our Introduction, we find that Mr. Saintsbury, 
 discussing the authorship of our play in his History of Elizabethan Literature 
 (London 1887), has come to almost the same conclusion as we. ['Arden of 
 Feversham], he says, 1. c, p. 424 seq., is a domestic tragedy of a peculiarly 
 atrocious kind, Aiice Arden, the wife, being led by her passion for a base 
 paramour, Mosbie, to plot, and at last carry out the murder of lier husband. 
 Here it is not that the versification has much resemblance to Shakespere's or 
 that single speeches smack of him, but that the dramatic grasp of character 
 both in principal and in secondary characters has a distinct touch of his al- 
 most unmistakable hand. Yet both in the selection and in the treatment of 
 the subject the play definitely transgresses those principles which have been 
 said to exhibit themselves so uniformly and so strongly in the whole great 
 body of his undoubted plays. There is a perversity and a dash of sordidness 
 which are both wholly un - Shakcsperian. The only possible hypothesis on 
 which it could be admitted as Shakespere's would be that of an early ex- 
 periment thrown off while he was seeking his way in a direction where he 
 found no thoroughfare.' 
 
ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSON^..*) 
 
 Mr. Arden, of Feversham. 
 Franckun, his friend. 
 
 MOSBIE. 
 
 Clarke, a Painter. 
 
 Adam Fowle, Landlord of the Flower-de-Luce. 
 
 Bradshaw, a Goldsmith. 
 
 jMichaell, Arden 's Servant. 
 
 Greene. 
 
 Richard Reede, a Sailor. 
 
 Black Will \ 
 
 \ Murderers. 
 Shakbag J 
 
 A Prentice. 
 
 A Ferryman. 
 
 Lord Cheiny, and his Men. 
 
 Mayor of Feversham, and Watch. 
 
 Alice, Arden's Wife. 
 Susan, Mosbies Sister. 
 The Scene: FEVERSHAM, London, and there between. 
 
 *) First added by Jacob. 
 
ACT I. 
 
 A Room in Arden's House. 
 Enter Arden and Francklin. 
 
 FrancUin. Arden, cheere vp thy spirits and droup no more: 
 My gratious Lord, the Duke of Sommerset, 
 Hath frely giuen to thee and to thy heyres, 
 By letters patents from his Maiesty, 
 
 All the lands of the Abby of Feuershame. 5 
 
 Heer are the deedes. 
 
 Sealed and subscribed with his name and the kings : 
 Read them, and leaue this melancholy moode. 
 ' Arden. Francklin, thy loue prolongs my weary lyfe; 
 And but for thee how odious were this lyfe, 10 
 
 That showes me nothing but torments my soule. 
 And those foule obiects that offend myne eies! 
 \\'hich makes me wish that for this vale of Heauen 
 The earth hung ouer my heede and couerd mee. 
 Love-letters past twixt Mosbie and my Wyfe, 1 5 
 
 And they have preuie meetings in the Towne: 
 Nay, on his finger did I spy the Ring 
 Which at our Marriage-day the Freest put on. 
 Can any greefe be halfe so great as this? 
 
 Francklin. Comfort thy selfe, sweete freend: it is not strange 20 
 That women will be false and wauering. 
 
 Arden. I, but to doat on such a one as hee 
 Is monstrous, Francklin, and intollerable. 
 
 Francklin. Why, what is he? 
 
 Arden. A Botcher, and no better at the first; 25 
 
 Who, by base brocage getting some small stock, 
 
 Act I. Stage-dir. added by Tyr. - 3. thine C. — 0— 7. One line in 
 old add. — 13. 7nalie Tyr. — 15. pass Bullen. — 18. day om. C. 
 
4 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [I- 
 
 Crept into seruice of a nobleman, 
 
 And by his seruile flattery and fawning 
 
 Is now become the steward of his house, 
 30 And brauely iets it in his silken gowne. 
 
 Francldin. No nobleman will countnaunce such a pesant. 
 Arden. Yes, the Lord Clifford, he that loues not mee. 
 
 But through his fauour let not him grow proude; 
 
 For were he by the Lord Protector backt, 
 35 He should not make me to be pointed at. 
 
 I am by birth a gentleman of bloode. 
 
 And that iniurious riball, that attempts 
 
 To vyolate my deare wyues chastitie, 
 
 (For deare I holde hir loue, as deare as heauen) 
 40 Shall on the bed which he thinks to defile 
 
 See his disseuerd ioints and sinewes torne, 
 
 Whylst on the planchers pants his weary body, 
 ■ Smeard in the channels of his lustfull bloode. 
 
 Francldin. Be patient, gentle freend, and learne of me 
 45 To ease thy griefe and saue her chastitye: 
 
 Intreat her faire; sweete words are fittest engines 
 
 To race the flint walles of a womans breast. 
 
 In any case be not too Jelyouse, 
 
 Nor make no question of her loue to thee; 
 50 But, as securely, presently take horse, 
 
 And ly with me at London all this tearme; 
 
 For women, when they may, will not. 
 
 But, being kept back, straight grow outragious. 
 
 Arden. Though this abhorres from reason, yet ile try it, 
 55 And call her foorth and presently take leaue. 
 
 How! Ales! 
 
 I Heere enters Ales. 
 
 Ales. Husband, what meane you to get vp so earely? 
 Sommer-nights are short, and yet you ryse ere day. 
 I Had I beene wake, you had not risen so soone. 
 
 33. let him not Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 37. ribald C. — 49. no\ a 
 Del. — 53. grows Jac. and Tyr. — 55—56. One line in old edd. — 57. get vp\ 
 rise C. — 59. rise ABC and BuUen, ris Del., rose Tyr. ; rise crept into the text 
 from 1. 58; ?•«{?) and rose (part.) are not to be met with in Shakespeare. 
 
1-] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 5 
 
 Ardai. Sweet loue, thou knowst that we two, (luid-like, 60 
 
 Haue often chid the morning when it gan to peepe, 
 And often wisht that darke nights purblind steedes 
 Would pull her by the purple mantle back, 
 And cast her in the Ocean to her loue. 
 
 But this night, sweete Ales, thou hast kild my hart: 65 
 
 I heard thee cal on Mosbie in thy sleepe. 
 
 Ales. Tis lyke I was asleepe when I nam'd him, 
 For beeing awake he comes not in my thoughts. 
 
 Arden. I, but you started vp and suddenly. 
 In steede of him, caught me about the necke. 70 
 
 Aks. In steede of him? why, who was there but you? 
 And where but one is, how can I mistake? 
 
 Francklin. Arden, leaue to urdge her ouer-farre. 
 
 Arden. Nay, loue, there is no credit in a droame ; 
 Let it suffice I know thou louest me well. 75 
 
 Ales. Now I remember wherevpon it came: 
 Had we no talke of Mosbie yesternight? 
 
 FrancUin. Mistres Ales, I hard you name him once or twice. 
 
 Ales. And thereof came it, and therefore blame not me. 
 
 Arden. I know it did, and therefore let it passe. 80 
 
 I must to London, sweete Ales, presently. 
 
 Aks. But tell me, do you meane to stay there long? 
 
 Arden. No longer there till my affaires be done. 
 
 Franeklin. He will not stay aboue a month at most. 
 ) Ales. A moneth? aye me! Sweete .Arden, come againe 85 
 
 \Within a day or two, or els I die. 
 
 Arden. I cannot long be from thee, gentle Ales. 
 Whilest Michel fetch our horses from the field, 
 Franklin and 1 will down unto the key; 
 
 For I have certaine goods there to vnload. go 
 
 Meanewhile prepare our breakfast, gentle Ales; 
 For yet ere noone wele take horse and away. 
 
 [Exetmt Arden and Francklin. 
 
 61. often om. by Mr. Bullen, as 'the compositor's eye caught the word 
 from the following line'. But the sense seems to require often twice. — iimrn 
 when't Tyr. and Del., but alexandrines occur very often in our play, cp. I. 167, 
 -38. 248, 479. 492, 634; 11. I. 71, 2. 140, 144; III. 3. 31, 5. 73, 6. 2 &c. - 
 67. when nam'd C. — 68. in"] to C. — 73. leaue'\ forbear Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 
 79. it, therefore Del. 
 
6 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. U- 
 
 Ales. Ere noone he meanes to take horse and away! 
 Sweete newes is this. Oh that some ayrie spirit 
 95 Would in the shape and liknes of a horse 
 Gallope with Arden crosse the Ocean, 
 And throw him from his backe into the wanes! 
 \ Sweete Mosbie is the man that hath my hart : 
 ' And he vsurpes it, having nought but this, 
 lOO That I am tyed to him by marriage. 
 
 Loue is a God, and mariage is but words; 
 And therefore Mosbies title is the best. 
 Tushe! whether it be or no, he shall be mine. 
 In spite of him, of Hymen, and of rytes. 
 
 Here enters Adam of the Flourdeluce. 
 105 And here comes Adam of the Flourdeluce : 
 I hope he brings me tydings of my loue. 
 — How now, Adam, what is the newes with you? 
 Be not affraid: my husband is now from home. 
 
 Adavi. He whome you wot of, Mosbie, Mistres Ales, 
 1 1 o Is come to towne, and sends you word by mee 
 In any case you may not visit him. 
 Ales. Not visit him? 
 
 Adam. No, nor take no knowledge of his beeing heere. 
 Ales. But tell me, is he angree or displeased? 
 1 1 5 Adam. Should seeme so, for he is wondrous sad. 
 Ales. Were he as mad as rauing Hercules, 
 He see him, I, and were thy house of force. 
 These hands of mine should race it to the ground, 
 Vnles that thou wouldst bring me to my loue. 
 120 Adam. Nay, and you be so impatient. He be gone. 
 
 Ales. Stay, Adam, stay; thou wert wont to be my frend. 
 Aske Mosbie how I haue incurred his wrath; 
 Beare him from me these paire'of siluer dice, 
 With which we plaid for kisses many a tyme, 
 125 And when I lost, I wan, and so did hee 
 
 (Such winning and such losing Joue send me); 
 
 103. be so or Tyr. and Bui. — 105. come C. — 113. take knowledge 
 Del. (cp. ad 1. 49). — 115. It should Del. — 121. Adam, thou Del.; read 
 thou^rt. 
 
I.] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 7 
 
 And bid him, if his loue doo not decline, 
 
 To come this morning but along my dore, 
 
 And as a stranger but salute me there: 
 
 This may he do without suspect or feare. 130 
 
 Adam. He tell him what you say, and so farewell. 
 
 \Exii AUAM. 
 
 Ales. Doo, and one day He make amends for all. — 
 I know he loues me well, but dares not come, 
 Because my husband is so Jelious, 
 
 .'\nd these rny narrow-prying neighbours blab 135 
 
 Hinder our meetings when we would conferrc. 
 But, if I Hue, that block shall be remoued. 
 And, ]\Iosbie, thou that comes to me by stelth, 
 Shalt neither feare the biting speach of men 
 
 Nor Ardens lookes: as surely shall ho die 140 
 
 As 1 abhorre him and loue onely thee. 
 
 Here enters Michaell. 
 How now, Michaell, whether are you going? 
 
 Michaell. To fetch my masters nagge. 
 I hope youle thinke on mee. 
 
 Ales. I; but, Michaell, see you keepe your oath, 145 
 
 And be as secret as you are resolute. 
 
 Michaell. He see he shall not line aboue a weeke. 
 
 Ales. On that condition, Michaell, here is my hand: 
 None shall haue r^Iosbies sister but thy selfe. 
 
 Michaell. I vnderstand, the Painter heere bard by 150 
 
 Hath made reporte that he and Sue is sure. 
 
 Ales. There's no such matter, Michaell; beleeue it not. 
 
 Michaell. But he hath sent a dagger sticking in a hart, 
 With a verse or two stollen from a painted cloath. 
 The which I heere the wench keepes in her chest. 155 
 
 Well, let her kepe it: I shall finde a fellow 
 That can both write and read and make rime too. 
 And if I doo — well, I say no more: 
 
 128. To om. A. — 135. marrow A. — 136. Hinders Jac, Tyr., and 
 Del.; but cp. 2 H. VI. III. I. 301 Men's flesh prc^crv'd so whole do seldom 
 j£,;„. — 138. comest C and Del. — 141. none but thee B. — 151. are C. 
 
8 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. L^- 
 
 He send from London such a taunting letter 
 1 60 As she shall eat the hart he sent with salt 
 And fling the dagger at the Painters head. 
 
 Aks. What needes all this? I say that Susan's thine. 
 Michaell. Why, then I say that I will kill my master, 
 Or anything that you will haue me doo. 
 165 Ales. But, Michaell, see you doo it cunningly. 
 
 Michaell. Why, say I should be tooke, ile nere confesse 
 That you know anything; and Susan, being a Maide, 
 May begge me from the gallous of the Shriefe. 
 Aks. Trust not to that, Michaell. 
 170 Michaell. You can not tell me, I haue scene it, I. 
 But, mistres, tell her, whether I liue or die, 
 lie make her more woorth then twenty Painters can; 
 For I will rid myne elder brother away. 
 And then the farme of Bolton is mine owne. 
 175 Who would not venture vpon house and land. 
 When he may haue it for a right downe blowe? 
 
 Here enters Mosbie. 
 Ales. Yonder comes Mosbie. Michaell, get thee gone. 
 And let not him nor any knowe thy drifts. \Exil Michaell. 
 Mosbie, my loue! 
 180 Mosbie. Away, 1 say, and talke not to me now. 
 
 Ales. A word or two, sweete hart, and then I will. 
 Tis yet but early dales, thou needest not feare. 
 Mosbie. Where is your husband? 
 Ales. Tis now high water, and he is at the key. 
 185 Mosbie. There let him be; henceforward know me not. 
 Ales. Is this the end of all thy solemne oathes? 
 Is this the frute thy reconcilement buds? 
 Haue I for this giuen thee so many fauours, 
 Incurd my husbands hate, and (out alas!) 
 I go Made shipwrack of myne honour for thy sake? 
 
 160. she add. by Del. — 162. that om. C. — 164. that om. C. — 
 172. An alexandrine, more being read as a disyllable. — 173. my C. — 
 174. Bocton Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 178. drift Tyr. — Here begins a new 
 scene in Tyr. Stage-dir. : Before Arden's House. Enter Alice from the 
 House, meeting Mosbie. — 187. this om. C. 
 
I-] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. g 
 
 And dost thou say 'henceforward know me not'? 
 
 Remember, when I lockt thee in my closet, 
 
 What were thy words and mine; did we not both 
 
 Decree to murder Arden in the night? 
 
 The heauens can witnes, and the world can tell, 195 
 
 Before I saw that falshoode looke of thine. 
 
 Fore I was tangled with thy tysing speach, 
 
 Arden to me was dearer then my scale, — 
 
 And shall be still : base pesant, get thee gone, 
 
 And boast not of thy conquest ouer me, 200 
 
 Gotten by witcb=eraft and meere sorcery ! 
 
 For what hast thou to countenaunce my loue, 
 
 Becing discendcd of a noble house. 
 
 And matcht already with a gentleman 
 
 Whose seruant thou maist be? — and so farewell. 205 
 
 JJosii'e. Vngentle and vnkinde Ales, now I see 
 That which I euer feard, and finde too trew: 
 A womans loue is as the lightning-flame, 
 1 Which euen in bursting forth consumes it selfe. 
 To trye thy constancie haue I beene strange: 210 
 
 Would I had neuer tryed, but liued in hope! 
 
 .l/cs. What needs thou try me whom thou neuer found false? 
 
 J/osiie. Yet pardon me, for loue is Jelious. 
 
 A/fs. So lists the Sailer to the ^Nlarmaids song, 
 So lookes the trauellour to the Basiliske: 215 
 
 1 am content for to be reconcilde, 
 And that, I know, will be mine ouerthrow. 
 
 Mosbie. Thine ouerthrow? first let the world dissolue. 
 
 Ales. Nay, Mosbio, let me still inioye thy loue. 
 And happen what will, I am resolute. 220 
 
 My sauing husband hoordes up bagges of gould 
 To make our children rich, and now is hee • 
 
 Gone to vnload the goods that shall be thine. 
 And he and Francklin will to London straight. 
 
 Mosbie. To London, Ales? ifjhoult be_ruldej3;^jnee, 225 
 
 Weele make him sure enough for comming there. 
 
 Ales. Ah, would we could. 
 
 192. /"/it' old copies, 2'/ztf[ir] BuUen. — 214. list K&. — 219. ot^] him C. 
 
lO ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. L^- 
 
 Mosbie. I happend on a Painter yesternight, 
 The onely cunning man of Christendoome ; 
 230 For he can temper poyson with his oyle, 
 
 That who so lookes vpon the worke he drawcs 
 Shall, with the beames that issue from his sight, 
 Suck vennome to his breast and slay him selfe. 
 Sweete Ales, he shall draw thy counterfet, 
 235 That Arden may by gaizing on it perish. 
 
 Ales. I, but, Mosbie, that is dangerous, 
 For thou, or I, or any other els, 
 Comming into the Chamber where it hangs, may die. 
 
 Mosbie. \, but weele haue it couered with a cloath 
 240 And hung vp in the studie for himselfe. 
 
 Ales. It may not be, for when the pictur's drawne, 
 Arden, I know, will come and shew it me. 
 
 Mosbie. Feare not; weele haue that shall serue the turne. 
 This is the painters house: He call him foorth. 
 245 Ales. But, Mosbie, He haue no such picture, I. 
 
 Mosbie. I jrray^ Jhee^Jeaue ^it to my discretion. 
 How! Clarke! 
 
 Here enters Clarice. 
 O, you are an honest man of your word! you serud me wel. 
 Clarke. Why, sir, ile do it for you at any time, 
 250 Prouided, as you haue giuen your worde, 
 1 may haue Susan Mosbie to my wife. 
 For, as sharpe-witted Poets, whose sweete verse 
 Make heauenly gods break of their Nector-draughts 
 And lay their eares down to the lowly earth, 
 255 Vse humble promise to their sacred Muse, 
 So we that are the Poets fauorits 
 Must haue a loue; I, Loue is the Painters Muse, 
 That makes him frame a speaking countenaunce, 
 A weeping eye that witnesses hartes griefe. 
 260 Then tell me. Master Mosbie, shall 1 haue hir? 
 
 Ales. Tis pittie but he should; heele vse her well. 
 Mosbie. Clarke, heers my hand: my sister shall be thine. 
 
 245. l'\notIC. — 246—247. One line in ABC. — 251. to] for C — 
 259. 'loitnesseth BC. 
 
^ ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. II 
 
 Clarke. Then, brother, to requite this curtesie. 
 You shall command my lyfe, my skill, and all. 
 
 Ales. Ah, that thou couldst be secret. 265 
 
 Mosbie. Feare him not; leaue, I haue talked sufficient. 
 
 Clarke. You know not me that ask such questions. 
 Let it suffice I know you loue him well. 
 And faine would haue your husband made away: 
 Wherein, trust me, you shew a noble minde, 270 
 
 That rather then youle Hue with him you hate 
 Youle venture lyfe, and die with him you loue. 
 The like will I do for my Susans sake. 
 
 Ales. Yet nothing could inforce me to the deed 
 But Mosbies loue. Might I without controll 275 
 
 Inioy thee still, then Arden should not die: 
 But seeing I cannot, therefore let him die. 
 
 Mosbie. Enough, sweete Ales; thy kinde words makes mo melt. 
 Your tricke of poysoned pictures we dislyke; 
 Some other poyson would do better farre. 280 
 
 Ales. I, such as might be put into his broth. 
 And yet in taste not to be found at all. 
 
 Clarke. I know your minde, and here I haue it for you. 
 Put but a dram of this into his drihke. 
 
 Or any kinde of broth that he shall eat, 285 
 
 And he shall die within an houre after. 
 
 Ales. As I am a gentlewoman, Clarke, next day 
 Thou and Susan shall be maried. 
 
 Mosbie. And ile mak her dowry more then ile talk of, Clark. 
 
 Clarke. Yonder's your husband. Mosbie, ile be gone. 2go 
 
 Here enters Arden and Francklin. 
 
 Ales. In good time see where my husband comes. 
 Maister IMosbie, aske him the question your selfe. [^E.xit Clarke. 
 
 Mosbie. Maister Arden, being at London yesternight. 
 The Abby lands, whereof you are now possest. 
 Were offred me on some occasion 295 
 
 266. not love, I Tyr. — 270. shevT^ beam C. — 278. make C, Jac, 
 Tyr., and Del. — 283. it om. C. — 288. Read: Thou and Su\ san shdU\. — 
 292. Maister Mosbie is to be considered as one foot. 
 
12 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. L^- 
 
 By Greene, one of sir Antony Agers men: 
 
 I pray you, sir, tell me, are not the lands yours? 
 
 Hath any other interest herein? 
 
 Arden. Mosby, that question wele decyde anon. 
 300 Ales, make ready my brekfast, I must hence. \_Exit Ales. 
 
 As for the lands, Mosbie, they are mine 
 By letters patents from his Maiesty. 
 But I must haue a Mandat for my wyfe; 
 They say you seeke to robbe me of her loue: 
 305 Villaine, what makes thou in her company? 
 Shees no companion for so base a groome. 
 
 Mosbie. Arden, I thought not on her, I came to thee; 
 But rather then I pocket vp this wrong — 
 Francklin. What will you doo, sir? 
 310 Mosbie. Reuenge it on the proudest of you both. 
 
 l^Then Arden draives forth Mosbies sword. 
 Arden. So, sirha ; you may not weare a sword. 
 The statute makes against artificers; 
 I warrand that I doo. Now vse your bodkin. 
 Your Spanish needle , and your pressing Iron, 
 3 1 5 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 lie make thee crall on stumps. 
 Mosbie. Ah, maister Arden, you have iniurde mee: 
 320 I doo appeale to God and to the world. 
 
 Francklin. Why, canst thou deny thou wert a botcher once? 
 Jilosbie. Measure me what I am, not what I was. 
 Arden. Why, what art thou now but a Veluet drudge, 
 A cheating steward, and base-minded pesant? 
 325 Mosbie. 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; 
 330 And that she knowes, and all the world shall see. 
 
 298. therein C, — 302. /row] of C. — 305. makest C and Del. — 
 308. He put up C, He pocket up Tyr. 
 
^•] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 
 
 13 
 
 I loued her once, sweete Arden, pardon me, 
 
 I could not chuse, her beauty fyred my hearte; 
 
 But time hath quencht these ouerraging coles: 
 
 And, Arden, though I now frequent thy house, 
 
 Tis for my sisters sake, her waiting-maid, 335 
 
 And not for hers. Maiest thou enioy her long: 
 
 Hell-fyre and wrathfuU vengeance light on me. 
 
 If I dishonor her or iniure thee. 
 
 Arden. Mosbie, with these thy protestations 
 The deadly hatred of my hart is appeased, 340 
 
 And thou and lie 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. 345 
 
 Mosbie. Who lines that is. not toucht with slaunderous tongues? 
 
 Francklin. Then, Mosbie, to eschew the speache of men, 
 Upon whose general! brute all honor hangs, 
 Forbeare his house. 
 
 Arden. Forbeare it! nay, rather frequent it more: 350 
 
 The worlde shall see that I distrust her not. 
 To wame him on the sudden from my house 
 Were to confirme the rumour that is growne. 
 
 Mosbie, By my faith, sir, you say trew. 
 And therefore will I soiourne here a while, 355 
 
 Untill our enemies haue talkt their fill ; 
 And then, I hope, theile cease, and at last confesse 
 How causeles they have iniurde her and me. 
 
 Arden. And I will ly at London all this tearme 
 To let them see how light I wey their words. 360 
 
 Here enters Ales. 
 Ales. Husband, sit down ; your brekfast will be could. 
 Arden: Come, M. Mosbie, will you sit with vs? 
 
 334. now om. C. — 342. lately conj. by Dyce, and adopted by Jac, 
 Tyr., and Del.; but either suppose base to be used as a disyllabic, or 
 read tearme -which I. — 353. too A. — 354. By faith, my sir ABC, By 
 my faith, sir Tyr. and Del.; also proposed by Mr. Bullen in a Note. — 
 360. New scene in Tyr., with the stage-dir. : Room in Arden' s House, as before. 
 Enter Arden, Franklin, Mosbie, MicJiael, and Alice. 
 
14 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. L^- 
 
 Moshie. I can not eat, but ile sit for company. 
 Arden. Sirra Michael!, see our horse be ready. 
 365 Ales. Husband, why pause ye? why eat you not? 
 
 Arden. I am not well; thers something in this broth 
 That is not holesome: didst thou make it, Ales? 
 Ales. I did, and thats the cause it likes not you. 
 
 Then she ihrmves down the broth on the grounde. 
 Thers nothing that I do can please your taste: 
 370 You were best to say I would haue poysoned you. 
 I cannot speak or cast aside my eye. 
 But he Imagines I haue stept awry. 
 Heres he that you cast in my teeth so oft : 
 Now will I be conuinced or purge my selfe. 
 375 I charge thee speake to this mistrustfull man. 
 
 Thou that wouldst see me hange, thou, Mosbye, thou: 
 What fauour hast thou had more then a kisse 
 At comming or departing from the Towne? 
 
 Mosbie. You wrong your selfe and me to cast these douts: 
 380 Your louing husband is not Jelious. 
 
 Arden. Why, gentle mistres Ales, cannot I be ill 
 But youle accuse your selfe? 
 Franckline, thou haste a boxe of Methrj^ate: 
 Ile take a lytle to preuent the worst. 
 385 Francklin. Do so, and let vs presently take horse: 
 My lyfe for yours, ye shall do well enough. 
 
 Ales. Giue me a spoone, lie eat of it my selfe: 
 Would it were full of poyson to the brim. 
 Then should ray cares and troubles haue an end. 
 390 Was euer silly woman so tormented? 
 
 Arden. Be patient, sweete loue; I mistrust not thee. 
 Ales. God will reuenge it, Arden, if thou doest; 
 For neuer woman lou'd her husband better 
 Then I do thee. 
 395 Arden. I know it, sweete Ales; cease to complaine. 
 Least that in teares I answer thee againe. 
 
 364. your BC, my Tyr. — l(s<^. you C. — 376. bang C. — 381— 382. Di- 
 vided at Alice || self \ Del. — 393—394- One line in ABC and Del. — 
 394. do om. Tyr. 
 
!•] , ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 15 
 
 Francklin. Come, leaue this dallying, and let vs away. 
 
 Ales. Forbeare to wound me with that bitter word; 
 Arden shall go to London in my armes. 
 
 Arden. Loth am I to depart, yet I must go. 400 
 
 Ales. Wilt thou to London, then, and leaue me here? 
 Ah, if thou loue me, gentle Arden, stay: 
 Yet, if thy busines be of great Import, 
 Go if thou wilt, lie beare it as I may; 
 
 But write from London to me every weeke, 405 
 
 Nay, euery day, and stay no longer there 
 Then thou must nedes, least that I die for sorrow. 
 
 Arden. He write vnto thee euery other tide: 
 And so farewell, sweete Ales, till we meete next. 
 
 Ales. Farewell, Husband, seeing youle haue it so; 410 
 
 And, M. Francklin, seeing you take him hence. 
 In hope youle hasten him home, He giue you this. 
 And then she kisseth him. 
 
 Francklin. And if he stay, the fault shall not be mine. 
 Mosbie, farewell, and see you keepe your oath. 
 
 Mosbie. I hope he is not Jelious of me now. 415 
 
 Arden. No, Mosbie, no: hereafter thinke of me 
 As of your dearest frend, and so farewell. 
 
 \_Exeuni Arden, Francklin, and Michaell. 
 
 Ales. I am glad he is gone; he was about to stay. 
 But did you marke me then how I brake of? 
 
 Mosbie. I, Ales, and it was cunningly performed. 420 
 
 But what a villaine is this painter Clarke! 
 
 Ales. Was it not a goodly poyson that he gaue? 
 Why, he's as well now as he was before. 
 It should haue bene some fine confection 
 
 That might haue giuen the broth some daintie taste: 425 
 
 This powder was to grosse and populos. 
 
 Mosbie. But had he eaten but three spoonefulles more. 
 Then had he died and our loue continued. 
 
 399. mine C. — 408. other om. C. — 415. 0/] on C. — 416. of 
 om. C. — 421. is this] was the C. — 426. populos] palpaple Del. 'Perhaps 
 populous may be used in the sense of thick, compact; but I cannot quote 
 for this use of the word'. Bullen; Webster, ». v. 3), quotes our passage and 
 explains: 'suitable to common people; hence, common, inferior, vulgar.' 
 
1 6 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. L^- 
 
 Ales. Why, so it shall, Mosbie, albeit he Hue. 
 430 Mosbie. It is vnpossible, for I haue sworne 
 Neuer hereafter to solicite thee, 
 ' Or, whylest he lives, once more importune thee. 
 
 Ales. Thou shalt not neede, I will importune thee. 
 What? shall an oath make thee forsake my loue? 
 435 As if I haue not sworne as much my selfe 
 And giuen my hand vnto him in the church ! 
 ,. Tush, Mosbie; oathes are wordes, and words is winde. 
 And winde is mutable: then, I conclude, 
 Tis childishnes to stand vpon an oath. 
 440 Mosbie. Well proued, Mistres Ales; yet by your leaue 
 He keep mine vnbroken whilest he Hues. 
 
 Ales. I, doo, and spare not, his time is but short ; 
 For if thou beest as resolute as I, 
 Weele haue him murdered as he walkes the streets. 
 445 In London many alehouse Ruffins keepe, 
 
 Which, as I heare, will murther men for gould. 
 They shall be soundly feed to pay him home. 
 
 Here enters Greene. 
 Mosbie. Ales, whats he that comes yonder? knowest thou him? 
 Ales. Mosbie, be gone: I hope tis one that comes 
 450 To put in practise our intended drifts. [^Exit Mosbie. 
 
 Greene. Mistres Arden, you are well met. 
 I am sorry that your husband is from home, 
 Whenas my purposed iourney was to him: 
 Yet all my labour is not spent in vaine, 
 455 For I suppose that you can full discourse 
 And flat resolue me of the thing I seekc. 
 
 Ales. What is it, maister Greene? If that I ma)' 
 Or can with safety, I will answer you. 
 
 Greene. I heard your husband hath the grant of late, 
 460 Confirmed by letters patents from the king, 
 Of all the lands of the Abby of Feuershame, 
 
 429. so it shall om. C. — 430. impossible C. — 437. ;>] are BC, Tyr., 
 and Del. — 447. fed ABC, corr. by mod. Edd. — 448. him om. C. — 
 459. had B. — 461. Read; of th' Ab \ by n' Fe \ vershame |. 
 
I-] ARDEN OF FEVERSITAM. 
 
 •7 
 
 Generally intitled, so that all former grants 
 
 Are cut of; whereof I my selfe had one, 
 
 But now my interest by that is void. 
 
 This is all, Mistres Arden; is it trew or no? 465 
 
 A/es. Trew, maister Greene; the lands are his in state, 
 And whatsoeuer leases were before 
 Are void for tearme of Maister Ardens lyfe; 
 He hath the grant vnder the Chancery seale. 
 
 Greene. Pardon me, mistres Arden, I must speake, 470 
 
 For I am toucht. Your husband doth me wrong 
 To wring me from the little land I haue: 
 My liuing is my lyfe, onely that 
 Resteth remainder of my portion. 
 
 Desyre of welth is endles in his minde, 475 
 
 I And he is gredy-gaping still for gaine, 
 Nor cares he though young gentlemen do begge. 
 So he may scrape and hoorde vp in his poutche. 
 But, seeing he hath taken my lands, He value lyfe 
 As careles as he is careful! for to get: 480 
 
 And tell him this from me. He be reuenged. 
 And so as he shall wishe the Abby lands 
 Had rested still within their former state. 
 
 Ales. Alas, poore gentleman, I pittie you, 
 And wo is me that any man should want; 485 
 
 God knowes tis not my fault: but wonder not 
 Though he be harde to others, when to me, — 
 Ah, maister Greene, God knowes how I am vsde. 
 
 Greene. Why, mistres Arden, can the crabbed churle 
 Vse you unkindely? respects he not your birth, 490 
 
 Your honorable freends, nor what you brought? 
 Why, all Kent knowes your parentage and what you are. 
 
 Ales. Ah, M. Greene, be it spoken in secret heere, 
 I neuer Hue good day with him alone: 
 
 When hee is at home, then haue I froward lookes, 495 
 
 Hard words and blowes to mend the match withall; 
 
 462. Read: gen 'r 'ly \ intitled \ so that. — 465. or] nor A. — 4O7. were 
 om. C. — 472. To wring from me the Jac, Tyr., and Del.; also prop, by 
 Mr. Bullen. But cp. to wring the widow from her customed right 2 H. VI. 
 V. I. 188. — 474. remained BC. 
 
 2 
 
1 8 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. U 
 
 And though I might content as good a man, 
 
 Yet doth he keepe in every corner trulles; 
 
 And, weary with his trugges at home, 
 500 Then rydes he straight to London; there, forsooth, 
 
 He reuelles it among such filthie ones 
 
 As counsels him to make away his wyfe. 
 
 Thus Hue I dayly in continuall feare, 
 
 In sorrow, so dispairing of redres 
 505 As every day I wish with harty prayer 
 
 That he or I were taken forth the worlde. 
 
 Greene. Now trust me, mistres Ales, it greeueth me 
 
 So faire a creature should be so abused. 
 
 Why, who would haue thought the ciuill sir so sollen? 
 510 He lookes so smoothly: now, fye vpon him. Churl e! 
 
 And if he liue a day, he lines too long. 
 
 But frolick, woman, I shall be the man 
 
 Shall set you free from all this discontent ; 
 
 And if the Churle deny my intereste 
 515 And will not yelde my lease into my hand, 
 
 He paye him home, what euer hap to me. 
 Ales. But speake you as you thinke? 
 Greene. I, Gods my witnes, I meane plaine dealing, 
 
 For I had rather die then lose my land. 
 520 Ales. Then, maister Greene, be counsailed by me: 
 
 Indaunger not your selfe for such a Churle, 
 
 But hyre some Cutter for to cut him short, 
 
 And heer's ten pound to wager them withall; 
 
 When he is dead, you shall haue twenty more, 
 525 And the lands whereof my husband is possest 
 
 Shall be intytled as they were before. 
 
 Greene. Will you keepe promise with me? 
 Ales. Or count me false and periurde whilst I liue. 
 Greetie. Then heeres my hand. He haue him so dispatcht. 
 530 He vp to London straight. He thether poast, 
 
 And neuer rest till I have compast it: 
 
 Till then farewell. 
 
 502. counsell C, Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 510. Now om. Del. — 511. lives 
 Jac, Tyr., and Del. 
 
!•] ARDEN OF FEVER SHAM. 
 
 IQ 
 
 Ales. Good fortune follow all your forward thoughts, 
 
 [^Exil (iREENE. 
 
 And whosoeuer doth attempt the deede, 
 
 A happie hand I wish, and so farewell. — 535 
 
 All this goes well: Mosbie, I long for thee 
 
 To let thee know all that I haue conlriued. 
 
 Here enters Mosbie and Clarke. 
 
 Mosbie. How now, Ales, whats the newes? 
 
 Ales. Such as will content thee well, sweete hart. 
 
 Mosbie. Well, let them passe a while, and tell me, Ales, 540 
 How have you dealt and tempered with my sister? 
 What, will she have my neighbour Clarke, or no? 
 
 Ales. What, M. Mosbie! let him wooe him self: 
 Thinke you that maides looke not for faire wordes? 
 Go to her, Clarke; shees all alone within; 545 
 
 Michaell my man is cleane out of her bookes, 
 
 Clarke. I thanke you, mistres Arden, I will in; 
 And if faire Susan and I can make a gree, 
 You shall command me to the vttermost. 
 
 As farre as either goods or lyfe may streatch. 550 
 
 \_Exit Clark. 
 
 Mosbie. Now, Ales, let's heare thy newes. 
 
 Ales. They be so good that I must laugh for ioy, 
 Before I can begin to tell my tale. 
 
 Mosbie. Lets heare them, that I may laugh for compan)-. 
 
 Ales. This morning, M. Greene, Dick Greene I meane, 555 
 
 From whome my husband had the Abby land. 
 Came hether, railing, for to know the trueth 
 Whether my husband had the lands by grant. 
 I tould him all, whereat he stormd amaine 
 
 And swore he would cry quittance with the Churle, 560 
 
 And, if he did denye his enterest. 
 
 537. Tyr. begins here the second act, giving as stage-dir. : Enter Mosbie 
 and Clarke, meeting Alice. — ■ 539. Such, a monosyllabic foot. — 544. faire, 
 used as a disyllable. — 548. 7nake agree C, can agree Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 
 554. them, then, that Jac, Tyr., and Del.; read hear'm, or consider the line 
 as an alexandrine. — 556. lands Del. 
 
 2* 
 
20 
 
 ARDEN OF FfiVERSHAM. [I- 
 
 Stabbe him, whatsoeuer did befall him selfe. 
 
 When as I sawe his choUer thus to rise, 
 
 I whetted on the gentleman with words; 
 565 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 
 570 And repossesse his former lands againe. 
 
 On this we greed, and he is ridden straight 
 
 To London, to bring his death about. 
 Mosbie. But call you this good newes? 
 Ales. I, sweete hart, be they not? 
 375 Mosbie. 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, 
 580 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 withall. 
 585 Ales. I did it for the best. 
 
 Mosbie. Well, seeing tis don, cherely let it pas. 
 
 You know this Greene: is he not religious, 
 
 A man, I gesse, of great devotion? 
 Ales. He is. 
 590 Mosbie. 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? have you found me false? 
 Did I not plead the matter hard for you? 
 Clarke. You did. 
 595 Mosbie. And what? wilt be a match? 
 
 562. whatever Del., but read e'er. — 571. agreed Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 
 cheerefully C, clearly Tyr. — 590. sweete Ales om. C. 
 
1-] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 
 
 21 
 
 Clarke. A match, I faith, sir: I, the day is mine. 
 The Painter layes his cullours to the l)fe. 
 His pensel draws no shadowes in his loue. 
 Susan is mine. 
 
 Ales. You make her blushe. 600 
 
 Mosbie. What, sister, is it Clarke must be the man? 
 
 Susan. It resteth in your graunt; some words are past, 
 And happely we be growne vnto a match. 
 If you be willing that it shall be so. 
 
 Mosbie. Ah, maister Clarke, it resteth at my grant: 605 
 
 You see my sister's yet at my dispose. 
 Bui, so youle graunt me one thing I shall aske, 
 I am content my sister shall be yours. 
 
 Clarke. What is it, M. Mosbie? 
 
 Mosbie. I doo remember once in secret talke 610 
 
 You tould me how you could compound by Arte 
 A crucifix impoysoned, 
 
 That who so looke vpon it should waxo blinde 
 And with the sent be stifeled, that ere long 
 
 He should dye poysond that did view it wel. 615 
 
 I would haue you make me such a crucifix. 
 And then lie grant my sister shall be yours. 
 
 Clarke. Though I am loath, because it toucheth lyfe, 
 Yet, rather or lie leaue sweete Susans loue, 
 
 lie do it, and with all the haste 1 may. 620 
 
 But for whome is it? 
 
 Ales. Leaue that to vs. Why, Clarke, is it possible 
 That you should paint and draw it out your selfe, 
 The cullours beeing balefull and impoysoned. 
 And no waies preiudice your selfe withal I? 625 
 
 Mosbie. Well questioned, Ales: Clarke, how answer you that? 
 
 Clarke. Very easily: He tell you straight 
 How I doo worke of these Impoysoned drugs. 
 I fasten on my spectacles so close 
 As nothing can any way oflfend my sight; 630 
 
 596. ay, faith Del.; but as I = ay directly foUowb, it beems better to 
 understand i'faith. — 613. look\i Del. — 619. //^] / C. - 626. Two lines 
 ABC. 
 
2 2 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [H, I. 
 
 Then, as I put a leafe within my nose, 
 So put I rubarbe to auoid the smell, 
 And softly as another worke I paint. 
 
 Rloshie. Tis very well ; but against when shall I haue it? 
 635 Clarke. Within this ten dayes. 
 
 Mosbie. Twill serue the turne. 
 
 Now, Ales, lets in and see what cheere you keepe. 
 I hope, now M. Arden is from home, 
 Youle giue me leaue to play your husbands part. 
 
 Ales. Mosbie, you know, whose maister of my hart, 
 640 He well may be the master of the house. \Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 Country behveen Feversham and London. 
 Enter Greene and Bkadshaw. 
 Bradshaw. See you them that coms yonder, RI. Greene? 
 Greene. I, very well: doo you know them? 
 
 Here enters Blacke Will and Shakebagge. 
 
 Bradshaiv. The one I knowe not, but he seemes a knaue 
 Cheefly for bearing the other company; 
 5 For such a slaue, so vile a roge as he, 
 Lyues not againe vppon the earth. 
 Blacke Will is his name. I tell you, M. Greene, 
 At Bulloine he and I were fellow-souldiers. 
 Where he plaid such prankes 
 10 As all the Campe feard him for his villany: 
 I warrant you he beares so bad a minde 
 That for a croune hcele murther any man. 
 
 Greene. — The fitter is he for my purpose, mary. 
 Will. How now, fellow Bradshaw? Whether away so earely? 
 15 Bradshaiv. O Will, times are changed: no fellows now, 
 
 640. 1-Ie\ As Jac, Tyr., and Del. 
 
 Act II. Scene 1. Stage -dir. add. by Tyr. — i. come C, Jac, Tyr., 
 and Del. — 9. Where to be read as a disyllabic ; cp. 1. 34. _ 10. Read 
 th'camp. — 14. Printed as two lines in Edd., div. at Bradshaw. 
 
II, I.J ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 23 
 
 Though we were once together in the field; 
 Yet thy freend to doo thee any good I can. 
 
 Wi//. Why, Bradshawe, was not thou and I Fellow-souldiers 
 at Bulloine, wher I was a corporall and thou but a base mer- 
 cenarye groome? No fellowes now! because you are a gould- 20 
 smith and haue a lytle plate in your shoppe! You were glad 
 to call me 'fellow Will', and with a cursy to the earth 'One 
 snatch, good corporall', when I stole the halfe Oxe from John 
 the vitler, and domineer'd with it amongst good fellowes in 
 one night. 25 
 
 Bradshaic. I, Will, those dayes are past with me. 
 
 Will. I, but they be not past with me, for I kepe that 
 same honorable mind still. Good neighbour Bradshaw, you 
 are too proude to be my fellow; but were it not that I see 
 more company comming down the hill, I would be fellowes 30 
 with you once more, and share Crownes with you to. But 
 let that pas, and tell me whether you goe. 
 
 Bradshaw. To London, Will, about a peecc of scruice. 
 Wherein happely thou maist pleasure me. 
 
 Will. What is it? 35 
 
 Bradshaw. Of late Lord Cheiny lost some plate, 
 Which one did bring and soulde it at my shoppe. 
 Saying he serued sir Antony Cooke. 
 A search was made, the plate was found with me. 
 And I am bound to answer at the syse. 40 
 
 Now, Lord Cheiny solemnly vowes, if law 
 Will serue him, hele hang me for his plate. 
 Now I am going to London vpon hope 
 To finde the fellow. Now, Will, I know 
 Thou art acquainted with such companions. 45 
 
 Will. What manner of man was he? 
 
 Bradshaw. A leane-faced writhen knaue, 
 
 18—25. Printed as verse in Edd., div. at Bulloine \ groome \ i^'oiild- 
 smith I shoppe \ Will \ earth \ corporall \ vitler \ fellowes \ night \. Also 
 Mr. BuUen, who follows the old edd. (except in the beginning and I \ cor- 
 porall \ groome ), says in a note: 'This speech and others should doubtless 
 be considered as prose'- — 27-32. Div. in old Edd. at me \ still \ fellow \ 
 down 1 more \ you to | gol. — 41—42. Div. at vowes \ plate \ in Edd. — 
 45. Read acquainted. 
 
24 
 
 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [H, I. 
 
 Hauke-nosde and verye hollow-eied, 
 With mightye furrowes in his stormye browes; 
 50 Long haire down his shoulders curled; 
 
 His Chinne was bare, but on his vpper lippe 
 A mutchado, which he wound about his eare. 
 Wt7/. What apparell had he? 
 
 Bradshaw. A watchet sattin doublet all to torne, 
 55 The inner side did beare the greater show; 
 
 A paire of threed-bare Vehiet hose, seame_renti 
 A wosted stockin rent aboue the shoe, 
 A liuery cloake, but all the lace was of; 
 Twas bad, but yet it serued to hide the plate. 
 60 Will. Sirra Shakebagge, canst thou rememfcer since we 
 
 trould the boule at Sittingburgh , where I broke the Tapsters 
 head of the Lyon with a Cudgill-sticke? 
 Shakebagge. I, very well. Will. 
 
 Will. Why, it was with the money that the plate was 
 65 sould for. Sirra Bradshaw, what wilt thou giuc him that can 
 telle thee who soulde thy plate? 
 
 Bradshaw. Who, I pray thee, good Will? 
 Will. Why, twas one Jack Fitten. He's now in Newgate 
 for stealing a horse, and shall be arrainde the next sise. 
 70 Bradshaiv. Why, then let Lord Chciny seek Jack Fitten forth. 
 
 For lie backe and tell him who robbed him of his plate. 
 This checres my hart; M. Greene, He leaue you. 
 For I must to the lie of Sheppy with speede. 
 Greene. Before you go, let me intreat you 
 75 To carry this letter to mistres Arden of Feuershame 
 And humbly recommend me to her selfe. 
 
 Bradshaw. That will 1, I\I. Grene, and so farewell. 
 Heere, Will, theres a Crowne for thy good newes. 
 
 [^E.vit Bradshawe. 
 
 49. his oni. C. — 50. do'cvn to C and Del., but haire may be considered 
 as a disyllable. — 52. Read 'bvut — 54. to'] so Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 
 55- S'r^atc-st Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 60 — 62. Div. at remember \ Sitting- 
 burgh I Lyon I sticlie \ in old. Edd. — 61. Sittingburne C, Jac, Tyr., and 
 Del. — 62. of] at C. — 65. for, sirrah. Bradshaw Del. — 68—69. D'v. 
 at Fitten \ horse \ sise \ in Edd. — 71. goe backe C. 
 
n, I.J ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 25 
 
 Wi7/. Farewell, Bradshaw; lie drinke no water for thy 
 sake whilest this lasts. — Now, gentleman, shall we haue 80 
 your company to London? 
 
 Greene. Nay, stay, sirs: 
 A lytle more I needs must vse your helpe. 
 And in a matter of great consequence, 
 
 Wherein if youle be secret and profound, 85 
 
 lie giue you twenty Angels for your paines. 
 
 Will. How? twenty Angells? giue my fellow George 
 Shakbag and me twenty Angels? And if thoult haue thy 
 owne father slaine, that thou mayst inherit his land, weele 
 kill him. 90 
 
 Shakehagge. I, thy Mother, thy sister, thy brother, or all thy kin. 
 
 Griene. Well, this it is: Arden of Feuershame 
 Ilath highly wrongd me about the Abby land, 
 That no reuendge but death will serue the turne. 
 Will you two kill him? heercs the Angels downe, 95 
 
 And 1 will lay the platforme of his death. 
 
 Will. Plat me no platformes ; giue me the money, and 
 He stab him as he stands pissing against a wall but lie 
 kill him. 
 
 Shakehagge. Where is he? too 
 
 Greene. He is now at London, in Aldersgate streete. 
 
 Shakehagge. He's dead as if he had beene condemned by 
 an act of parliament, if once Black Will and I sweare his 
 death. 
 
 Greene. Here is ten pound, and when he is dead, 105 
 
 Ye shall haue twenty more. 
 
 Will. My fingers itches to be at the pesant. Ah, that 1 
 might be set a worke thus through the yeere, and that murther 
 would grow to an occupation, that a man might without 
 
 79 — 81. Div. at Bradshaw \ lasts \ London \ in Edd. — 80. ■while C; 
 doth last B, does last C. — 82 -83. One line in Edd., div. by Mr. Bullen. — 
 87—90. Div. Lit fellow 1 Angels \ slaine \ him \ in Edd. — 93. mightily C; 
 the om. BC, read 'bottt. — Q)^. here are the Del. — 97—99- Div. at money \ 
 him I in old Edd. — 102—104. Div. at condemned \ and I \ death \ in Edd. — 
 107 — 113. Div. at pesant \ yeere \ occupation \ law \ company \ Rochester \ 
 Sack I all\ in Edd. — 107. itch C, Jac., Tyr., and Del.; AK] Oh C. — 
 108. aworiie'] at worke C. 
 
26 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [H, 2. 
 
 no daunger of law — : zounds, I warrant I should be warden of 
 the company. Come, let vs be going, and wele bate at 
 Rochester, where lie give thee a gallon of Sack to hansell 
 the match withall. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 London. A Street near St. Paul's. 
 Enter MlCHAELL. 
 Michaell. I have gotten such a letter as will touch the Painter: 
 And thus it is: 
 
 Here enters Arden and Francklin and heares Michaell 
 
 read this letter. 
 
 'My duetye remembred, mistres Susan, hoping in God you 
 
 be in good health, as I Michaell was at the making 
 
 5 heereof. This is to certifie you that as the Turtle 
 
 true, when she hath lost her mate, sitteth alone, so I, 
 
 mourning for your absence, do walk vp and down 
 
 Poules til one day I fell a sleepe and lost my maisters 
 
 Pantophelles. Ah, mistres Susan, abbolishe that paltry 
 
 lo Painter, cut him off by the shinnes with a frowning 
 
 looke of your crabed countenance, and think vpon 
 
 Michaell, who, druncke with the dregges of your fauour, 
 
 wil cleaue as fast to your loue as a plaster of Pitch 
 
 to a gald horse-back. Thus hoping you will let my 
 
 15 passions penetrate, or rather impetrate mercy of your 
 
 meeke hands, 1 end. 
 
 Yours, Michaell, or else not Michaell. 
 Arden. Why, you paltrie knaue, 
 Stand you here loytering, knowing my affaires, 
 20 What haste my busines craues to send to Kent? 
 Francklin. Faith, frend Michaell, this is very ill, 
 Knowing your maister hath no more but you, 
 And do ye slacke his busines for your own? 
 
 Scene II. Stage -dir. add. by Tyr. — 1—2. Div. at letter \\vi old 
 Edd.; printed as prose by Del. — 23. for om. C. 
 
II, 2.] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 27 
 
 Arden. Where is the letter, sirra? let mo see it. 
 Then he giues him Ihe leilcr. 
 See, maister Francklin, heres proper stufife : 25 
 
 Susan my maid, the Painter, and my man, 
 A crue of harlots, all in loue, forsooth; 
 Sirra, let me heare no more of this, 
 Nor for thy lyfe once write to her a worde. 
 
 Here enters Greene, Will, and Suakubag. 
 Wilt thou be married to so base a trull ? 30 
 
 Tis Mosbies sister: come I once at home. 
 He rouse her from remaining in my house. 
 Now, M. Francklin, let vs go walke in Paules; 
 Come but a turne or two, and then away. \_E.\eunt. 
 
 Greene. The first is Arden, and tbats his man, 35 
 
 The other is Francklin, Arden's dearest freend. 
 
 Will. Zounds, lie kill them all three. 
 
 Greene. Nay, sirs, touch not his man in any case ; 
 But stand close, and take you fittest standing. 
 And at his comming foorth speede him: 40 
 
 To the Nages head, ther is this cowards haunt. 
 But now He leaue you till the deed be don. \_Exil Greene. 
 
 Shakehagge. If he be not paid his owne, nere trust Shakebagge. 
 
 Will. Sirra Shakbag, at his comming foorth He runne him 
 through, and then to the Blackfrcers, and there take water and 45 
 away. 
 
 Shakebagge. Why, thats the best; but see thou misse him not. 
 
 Will. How can I misse him, when 1 thinke on the fortye 
 Angels I must haue more? 
 
 Here enters Preniise. 
 Prentise. 'Tis very late; I were best shute vp my stall, for 50 
 heere will be ould filching, when the presse comes foorth of 
 Paules. 
 
 29. Nor~\ Now ABC, Nor lirst Jac. Mr. Bullen, loo, prints Nor, but says 
 in a Note: 'Now may stand, if we place a hyphen at the end of the line, 
 and suppose the sentence is left unfinished '. There is however no reason why 
 we should suppose the line to be left unfinished; cp. 1. 30. ■ — T,2,from']for C. — 
 41. this om. C. — 44 — 46. Div. sX foortJi \ Blackfreers \ away \ in Edd. — 
 45. there] then C. — 48 — 49. Div. at fortye \ more \ in Edd. — 50 — 52. Div. 
 at stall I Paules \ in Edd, 
 
28 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAW. pl, 2. 
 
 Then Idles he downe his window, and it breaks Black Wils head. 
 Will. Zounds, draw, Shakbag, draw, I am almost kild. 
 Prenlise. Wele tame you, I warrant. 
 55 Will. Zounds, I am tame enough already. 
 
 Here enters Arden, Francklin, and Michaell. 
 Arden. What trublesome fray or mutany is this? 
 Francklin. 'Tis nothing but some brabling paltry fray, 
 Deuised to pick mens pockets in the throng. 
 
 Arden. 1st nothing els? come, Franklin, let vs away. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 60 Will. \Vhat mends shall 1 haue for my broken head? 
 Prenlise. Mary, this mends, that if you get you not away 
 
 all the sooner, you shall be well beaten and sent to the 
 
 counter. ^O \Exil Prentise. 
 
 Will. Well, lie be gone, but looke to your signes, for 
 
 65 He pull them down all. Shakbag, my broken head greeues 
 
 me not so much as by this meanes Arden hath escaped. 
 
 Here enters Greene. 
 I had a giimse of him and his companion. 
 
 Greene. Why, sirs, Arden's as well as I; I met 
 Him and Francklin going merrily to the ordinary. 
 70 What, dare you not do it? 
 
 Will. Yes, sir, we dare do it; but, were my consent to 
 giue againe, we would not do it vnder ten pound more. I 
 value cuery drop of my blood at a french Crowne. I haue 
 had ten pound to steale a dogge, and we haue no more 
 75 heere to kill a man; but that i bargane is a bargane, and 
 so foorth, you should do it your selfe. 
 
 Greene. I pray thee, how came thy head broke? 
 Will. Why, thou seest it is broke, dost thou not? 
 Shakebagge. Standing against a staule, watching Ardens 
 
 53. Shakbag, / C. — 57. habling Jac, babbling Tyr., ba-wbling Del. — 
 
 61 — 64. Div. at away \ counter \ in Edd. — 64—66. Div. at signes \ all \ 
 much I escaped \ in Edd. — 67. Given to Greene by Del. — 69. ordinary 
 again Jac., Tyr., and Del. — 71 — 76. Div. at againe \ more \ Crowne \ dogge \ 
 man \ foorth \ selfe \ in Edd.; printed as prose by Del. — 71. sir, sir C. — 
 79—83- Div. at comming \ head \ tumult \ on \ acquittance \ thee \ in Edd, 
 
n, 2.] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 29 
 
 comming, a boy let down his shop-window and broke his 80 
 head; wherevpon arose a braul, and in the tumult Arden 
 escapt vs and past b)' vnthought on. But forberance is no 
 acquittance; another time wele do it, I warrant thee. 
 
 Gree?ie. I pray thee, Will, make cleane thy bloodie brow. 
 And let vs bethink vs on some other place 85 
 
 Where Arden may be met with handsomiy. 
 Remember how deuoutly thou hast sworne 
 To kill the villaine; thinke upon thyne oath. 
 
 Will. Tush, I haue broken fiue hundred oathes ! 
 But wouldst thou charme me to effect this dede, go 
 
 Tell me of gould, my resolutions fee; 
 Say thou seest Mosbie kneeling at my knees, 
 Offring me seruice for my high attempt, 
 And sweete Ales Arden, with a Ian. of crownes, 
 Comes with a lowly cursy to the rarth, 95 
 
 Saying 'take this but for thy quarterige. 
 Such yeerely tribute will I answer thee.' 
 Why, this would steale soft-metled cowardice, 
 With which Black Will was neuer tainted }et. 
 
 I tell thee, Greene, the forlorne trauailer, 100 
 
 Whose lips are glewed with sommers parching heat, 
 Nere longd so much to see a running brooke 
 As I to finish Ardens Tragedy. 
 Seest thou this goare that cleaueth to my face? 
 From hence nere will I wash this bloody stainc, 105 
 
 Til Ardens hart be panting in my hand. 
 
 Greene. Why, thats wel said; but what saith Shakbag? 
 
 Shakebagge. I cannot paint my valour out with words: 
 But, giue me place and opportunitie, 
 
 Such mercy as the staruen Lyones, 1 10 
 
 When she is dry suckt of her eager young, 
 Showes to the pray that next encounters her. 
 On Arden so much pitty would I take. 
 
 Greene. So should it faire with men of firme resolue. 
 
 83. quittance BC. — 89. Read hundered. — 95- Come Jac, Tyr., and 
 Del. — 96. quartering Del. — 98. melted BC. — 99- tainted yef] tainted 
 with ABC; corr. by Jac. — loi. Summer parching C. — ill. her om. C. — 
 
30 
 
 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. pl. 
 
 115 And now, sirs, seeing this accident 
 
 Of meeting him in Paules hath no successe, 
 
 Let vs bethinke vs of some other place 
 
 Whose earth may swallow vp this Ardens bloode. 
 
 Here enters Michaell. 
 Se, yonder comes his man: and wat you what? 
 120 The foolish knaue is in loue with Mosbies sister, 
 And for her sake, whose loue he cannot get 
 Unlesse Mosbie solicit his sute, 
 I The villaine hath sworne the slaughter of his maister. 
 Weele question him, for he may stead vs muche. — 
 125 How now, Michael, whether are you going? 
 Michaell. My maister hath new supt, 
 And I am going to prepare his chamber. 
 Greene. Where supt M. Arden? 
 
 Michaell. At the Nages head, at the 18 pence ordinarye. 
 130 How now, M. Shakbag? what, Black Wil! 
 
 Gods deere lady, how chaunce your face is so bloody? 
 
 Will. Go too, sirra, there is a chaunce in it: 
 This sawcines in you wil make you be knockt. 
 
 Michaell. Nay, and you be offended, ile be gone. 
 135 Greene. Stay, Michael, you may not scape vs so. 
 Michael, I knowe you loue your Master wel. 
 
 Michaell. Why, so I do; but wherefore vrdge you that? 
 Greene. Because I thinke you loue your mistres better. 
 Michaell. So think not I; but say, yfaith, what, if I should? 
 140 Shakebagge. Come to the purpose, Michael; we heare 
 You haue a pretty loue in Feuershame. 
 
 Michaell. Why, haue I two or three, whats that to thee? 
 Will. You deale to mildely with the pesant. Thus it is: 
 Tis knowne to vs you loue Mosbies sister ; 
 145 We know besides that you haue tane your oath 
 To further Mosbie to your mistres bed, 
 And kill your Master for his sisters sake. 
 
 117. q/] on C. — 129. eighteen-penny Tyr. — 133. he om. BC (Read 
 you't). — 135. Read escape. — 144. vs that you Bull.; but the line has 
 only four accents. — 146. your], you C. 
 
n, 2.] ARDEN OF FEVER SHAM. 31 
 
 Now, sir, a poorer coward then your selfe 
 
 Was neuer fostered in the coast of Kent: 
 
 How comes it then that such a knaue as }0u 150 
 
 Dare sweare a matter of such consequence ? 
 
 Greene. Ah, Will — 
 
 Will. Tush, giue me leaue, thers no more but this: 
 Sith thou hast sworne, we dare discouer all ; 
 
 And hadst thou or shouldst thou vtter it, 155 
 
 We have deuised a complat vnder hand, 
 What euer shall betide to any of vs. 
 To send thee roundly to the diuell of hell. 
 And therefore thus: I am the very man, 
 
 Markt in my birth-howre by the destynies, 160 
 
 To giue an end to Ardens iyfe on earth; 
 Thou but a member but to whet the knife 
 Whose edge must search the closet of his breast: 
 Thy office is but to appoint the place 
 
 And traine th}' Master to his tragedy; 165 
 
 Myne to performe it when occasion serues. 
 Then be not nice, but here deuise with vs 
 How and what way we may conclude his death. 
 
 Shakebagge. So shalt thou purchase Mosbie for th)- frend. 
 And by his. frendship gaine his sisters loue. 170 
 
 Greene. So shal thy mistres be thy fauorer. 
 And thou disburdned of the oath thou made. 
 
 Michaell. Well, gentlemen, I cannot but confesse, 
 Sith you hauc vrdged me so aparantly. 
 
 That I have vowed my M. Ardens death; 175 
 
 And he whose kindly loue and liberall hand 
 Doth challenge naught but good deserts of me, 
 I will delyuer ouer to your hands. 
 This night come to his house at Aldersgate: 
 
 The dores lie leaue vnlockt against you come. 180 
 
 No sooner shall ye enter through the latch, 
 Ouer the thresholde to the inner court. 
 But on your left hand shall you see the staires 
 That leads directly to my Masters chamber: 
 
 150. then om. C. — 165. thy\ the B. — 1 74. Sith'] Since Tyr. 
 
32 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [HI, I. 
 
 185 There take him and dispose him as ye please. 
 
 Now it were good we parted company; 
 
 What I haue promised, I will performe. 
 
 Will. Should you deceiue vs, twould go wrong with you. 
 Muhaell. I will accomplish al I haue reuealde. 
 190 Will. Come, let's go drinke : cholier makes me as drye as 
 
 a dog. 
 
 Exeunt Will, Greene, and Shakebag. Manet Michaell. 
 Michaell. Thus feedes the Lambe securely on the downe, 
 
 Whilst through the thicket of an arber-brake 
 
 The hunger-bitten Woulfe orepryes his hant 
 195 And takes aduantage for to eat him vp. 
 
 Ah, harmeles Arden, how, how hast thou misdone, 
 
 That thus thy gentle lyfe is leueld at? 
 
 The many good turnes that thou hast don to me, 
 
 Now must I quitance with betraying thee. 
 200 I that should take the weapon in my hand 
 
 And buckler thee from ill-intending foes. 
 
 Do lead thee with a wicked fraudfuU smile. 
 
 As vnsuspected, to the slaughterhouse. 
 
 So haue I sworne to Mosby and my mistres, 
 205 So haue I promised to the slaughtermen; 
 
 And should I not deale currently with them. 
 
 Their lawless rage would take reuenge on me. 
 
 Tush, I will spume at mercy for this once: 
 
 Let pittie lodge where feeble women ly, 
 210 I am resolued, and Arden needs must die. [Exit Michaell. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A Room in Francklin's House, at Aldersgate. 
 
 Enter Arden and Francklin. 
 
 Arden. No, Francklin, no: if feare or stormy threts. 
 
 If loue of me or care of womanhoode, 
 
 195- /"'■ add. by Tyr. and Bui. — igS. that om. C. — 202. wicked om. C. 
 Act III. Scene I. Stage-dir. add. by Tyr. 
 
I1I> !•] ARDEN OF FP:VERSTIAM. 
 
 33 
 
 If feare of God or common speach of men, 
 
 Who mangle credit with their wounding words, 
 
 And cooch dishonor as dishonor buds, 5 
 
 Might ioyne repentaunce in her wanton thoughts, 
 
 No question then but she would turn the leafe 
 
 And sorrow for her desolution; 
 
 But she is rooted in her wickednes, 
 
 Pcruerse and stobburnc, not to be reclaimde; 10 
 
 Good counsel! is to her as raine to weedes, 
 
 And reprehension makes her vice to grow 
 
 As H^raes head that plenisht by decay. 
 
 Her faults, me thinks, are painted in my face, 
 
 For euery searching eye to ouerreede; 15 
 
 And Mosbies name, a scandale vnto myne, 
 
 Is deeply trenched in my blushing brow. 
 
 Ah, Francklin, Francklin, when I think on this, 
 
 ily harts greefe rends my other powers 
 
 Worse then the conflict at the houre of death. 20 
 
 Frajicldin. Gentle Arden, leaue this sad lament: 
 She will amend, and so your greefes will cease ; 
 Or els shele die, and so your sorrows end. 
 If neither of these two do happely fall. 
 
 Yet let your comfort be that others beare 25 
 
 Your woes, twice doubled all, with patience. 
 
 A?-den. My house is irksome, there I cannot rest. 
 
 Francklin. Then stay with me in London, go not home. 
 
 Arden. Then that base Mosbie doth vsurpe my roomc 
 And makes his triumphe of my beeing thence. 30 
 
 At home or not at home, where ere I be, 
 Heere, heere it lyes, ah Francklin, heere it lyes 
 That wil not out till wretched Arden dies. 
 
 Here enters Michaell. 
 Francklin. Forget your greefes a while; heer coms your man. 
 Arden. What a Clock ist, sirra? 35 
 
 Michaell. Almost ten. 
 
 5. coocKl crop Del. — 9. her om. C. — 13. that om. C; perisht ABC, 
 flourisht conj. by Del. and Bull. — 14. me think ABC. 
 
 3 
 
34 
 
 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [HI, 
 
 Arden. See, see, how runnes away the weary time! 
 
 Come, M. Francklin, shal we go to bed? 
 
 {Exeunt Arden and Michaell. 
 [Manet Francklin. 
 Francklin. I pray you, go before: He follow you. 
 40 — Ah, what a hell is fretfull Jelousie! 
 
 What pitty-mouing words, what deepe-fetcht sighes, 
 
 What greeuous grones and ouerlading woes 
 
 Accompanies this gentle gentleman! 
 
 Now will he shake his care-oppressed head, 
 45 Then fix his sad eis on the soUen earth. 
 
 Ashamed to gaze vpon the open world; 
 
 Now will he cast his eyes vp towards the heauens, 
 
 Looking that waies for redresse of wrong: 
 
 Some times he seeketh to beguile his griefe 
 50 And tels a story with his carefull tongue; 
 
 Then comes his wiues dishonor in his thoughts 
 
 And in the middle cutteth of his tale, 
 
 Powring fresh sorrow on his weary lims. 
 
 So woe-begone, so inlye charged with woe, 
 55 Was neuer any lyued and bare it so. 
 
 Here enters Michaell. 
 Michaell. My Master would desire you come to bed. 
 Francklin. Is he himselfe already in his bed? 
 
 [Exit Francklin. Manet Michaell. 
 Michaell. He is, and faine would haue the light away. 
 — Conflicting thoughts, incamped in my brest, 
 00 Awake me with the Echo of their strokes. 
 And I, a iudge to censure either side, 
 Can giue to neither wished victory. 
 My masters kindnes pleads to me for lyfe 
 With iust demaund, and I must grant it him: 
 65 i My mistres she hath forced me with an oath, 
 For Susans sake, the which I may not breake, 
 1 For that is nearer then a masters loue : 
 
 41. moiling A; deepe-fetch C. — 43. Accompany Jac, Tyr., and Del. 
 Read Looking that \. — '^O. tels~\ tals A. 
 
ni, I.] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 
 
 35 
 
 That grim-faced fellow, pittilcs Black-Will, 
 
 And Shakebag, stearne in bloody stratageme. 
 
 Two Ruffer Ruffins neuer lined in Kent, 70 
 
 Have sworne my death, if I infrindge my vow, 
 
 A dreadful! thing to be considred of. 
 
 Me thinks I see them with their bolstred haire 
 
 Staring and grinning in thy gentle face. 
 
 And in their ruthles hands their dagers drawno, 75 
 
 Insulting ore thee with a peck of oathes, 
 
 Whilest thou submissiuc, pleading for releefe. 
 
 Art mangled by their ireful! instruments. 
 
 jNIe thinks I heare them aske where Michael! is. 
 
 And pittiles Black-Will cryes: 'Stab the slaue! 80 
 
 The Pesant will detect the Tragedy!' 
 
 The wrincles in his fowle death-threatning face 
 
 Gapes open wide, lyke graues to swallow men. 
 
 My death to him is but a merryment. 
 
 And he will murther me to make him sport. 85 
 
 He comes, he comes! ah, M. Francklin, helpe! 
 
 Call vp the neighbors, or we are but dead ! 
 
 Here enters Francklin and Arden. 
 
 Francklin. What dismal! outcry cals me from m}' rest? 
 
 Arden. What hath occasiond such a fearefull crye? 
 Speake, Michaell: hath any iniurde thee? go 
 
 Michaell. Nothing, sir; but as I fell asleepe, 
 Vpon the thresholde leaning to the staires, 
 I had a fearefull dreame that troubled me. 
 And in my slumber thought I was beset 
 
 With murtherer theeues that came to rifle me. 95 
 
 My trembling ioints witnes my inward feare: 
 I craue your pardons for disturbing you. 
 
 Arden. So great a cry for nothing. I nere heard. 
 What? are the doores fast lockt and a! things safe? 
 
 Michaell. I cannot tel ; I think I lockt the doores. 100 
 
 Arden. I like not this, but He go see my selfe. — 
 Nere trust me but the dores were all vnlockt: 
 
 76. thee'\ there AB. — 83. Gape Del. — 80. ah om. C. — q2. leading 
 Del. — 102. j£'f/r] are BC. 
 
 3* 
 
36 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. PI. 2. 
 
 This negligence not halfe contenteth me. 
 Get you to bed, and, if you loue my fauour, 
 105 Let me haue no more such pranckes as these. 
 Come, M. Francklin, let vs go to bed. 
 
 Francklin. I, be my faith; the aire is very colde. 
 Michaell, farewell; I pray thee dreame no more. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Outside Francklin's House. 
 
 Here enters Will, Greene, and Shakebag. 
 
 Shakebag. Black night hath hid the pleasurs of the day. 
 And sheting darknesse ouerhangs the earth 
 And with the black folde of her cloudy robe 
 Obscures vs from the eiesight of the worlde, 
 5 In which swete silence such as we triumph. 
 The laysie minuts linger on their time. 
 Loth to giue due audit to the howre. 
 Til in the watch our purpose be complete 
 And Arden sent to euerlasting night. 
 10 Greene, get you gone and linger here about, 
 And at some houre hence come to vs againe. 
 Where we will giue you instance of his death. 
 
 Greene. Speede to my wish, whose wil so ere sayes no; 
 And so ile leaue you for an howre or two. [Exit Greene. 
 15 Will. I tel thee, Shakebag, would this thing wer don: 
 
 I am so heauy that I can scarse go ; 
 This drowsines in me bods little good. 
 
 Shakebag. How now. Will? become a precissian? 
 Nay, then lets go sleepe, when buges and feares 
 20 Shall kill our courages with their fancies worke. 
 
 Will. Why, Shakbagge, thou mistakes me much, 
 And wrongs me to in telling me of feare. 
 Wert not a serious thing we go about. 
 
 Scene It. Stage-dir. add. by Tyr. — 1. pleasure Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 
 4. obscure AB. — 7. As loth Jac, Tyr., and Del., and adopted by Bull., 
 
 but Loth may be considered as a monosyllabic foot. — 16. can om. Del. 
 
 19. then om. C. — 21. mistakest C. — 22. wrongst C; me in the telling me BC. 
 
^11' 2-] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 37 
 
 It should be slipt til I had fought with thee, 
 
 To let thee know I am no coward, I. 25 
 
 I tel thee, Shakbag, thou abusest me. 
 
 Shakebagge. Why, thy speach bewraied an inlye kind of feare. 
 And sauourd of a weak relenting spirit. 
 Go forward now in that we haue begonne. 
 And afterwards attempt me when thou darest. 30 
 
 Will. And if I do not, heauen cut me of! 
 But let that passe, and show me to this house. 
 Where thou shalt see He do as much as Shakbag. 
 
 Shakebagge. This is the doore; but soft, me thinks tis shut. 
 The villaine Michaell hath deceiued vs. 35 
 
 Will. Soft, let me see, Shakbag; tis shut indeed. 
 Knock with thy sword, perhaps the slaue will heare. 
 
 Shakebagge. It wil not be; the white-liuerd pesant 
 Is gon to bed, and laughs vs both to scorne. 
 
 Will. And he shall by his mirriment as deare 40 
 
 As euer coistrell bought so little sport: 
 Nere let this sworde assist me when I neede, 
 But rust and canker after I haue sworne. 
 If I, the next time that I mete the hind, 
 Loppe not away his leg, his arme, or both. 45 
 
 Shakebagge. And let me neuer draw a sword againe. 
 Nor prosper in the twilight, c ockshu t light, 
 When I would fleece the welthie passenger. 
 But ly and languish in a loathsome den, 
 
 Hated and spit at by the goers-by, 50 
 
 And in that death may die vnpittied. 
 If I, the next time that I meete the slaue, 
 Cut not the nose from of the cowards face 
 And trample on it for this villany. 
 
 Will. Come, lets go seeke out Green; I know hele swear. 55 
 Shakebagge. He were a villane, and he would not sweare. 
 Twould make a pesant sweare amongst his boyes. 
 That nere durst say before but 'yea' and 'no'. 
 To be thus flouted of a coysterel. 
 
 27. betray'd Tyr. — 38 — 39. Two lines in old Edd., div. at bed\; corr. 
 by Del. — 53. of om. C. — 54. this'] his BC. — 57. among C and Del. 
 
38 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. U^l 3- 
 
 60 WM. Shakbag, lets seeke out Green, and in the morning 
 
 At the Alehouse butting Arden's house 
 Watch the out-comming of that prick-eard cur, 
 And then let me alone to handle him. {Exeunl. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 Room in Fkancklin's House as before. 
 Here enters AuDEN, Fkancklin, and MiCHAELL. 
 Arden. Sirra, get you back to Billensgate 
 
 And learne what time the tide will serue our turne ; • 
 
 Come to vs in Paules. First go make the bed. 
 
 And afterwards go harken for the floude. \_Exii Michaell. 
 5 Come, RI. Francklin, you shall go with me. 
 
 This night 1 dreamd that, beeing in a parke, 
 
 A toyle was picht to ouerthrow the deare. 
 
 And I vppon a little rysing hill 
 
 Stoode whistely watching for the herds approch. 
 10 Euen there, me thought, a gentle slumber tooke me. 
 
 And sommond all my parts to sweete repose; 
 
 But in the pleasure of this golden rest 
 
 An ill-thewd foster had removed the toyle, 
 
 And rounded me with that beguyling home 
 15 Which late, me thought, was pitcht to cast the deare. 
 
 With that he blew an euill-sounding home, 
 
 And at the noise an other heardman came. 
 
 With Fauchon drawn, and bent it at my brest. 
 
 Crying aloud 'Thou art the game we seeke!' 
 20 With this I wakt and trembled euery ioynt, 
 
 Lyke one oscured in a lytle bushe. 
 
 That sees a lyon foraging about. 
 
 And, when the dreadfuU forest-king is gone, 
 
 lie prycs about with timerous suspect 
 25 Throughout tl e thorny casements of the brake. 
 
 And will not think his person daungerles. 
 
 But quakes and sheuers, though the cause be gone: 
 
 62. thel thee ABC. 
 
 Scene III. Stage-dir. add. by Tyr. — 10. thoughts AB. — 27. shewers 
 A, sheuers B, shiuers C and mod. Edd. 
 
Ill, 4-] ARDEN OF B'EVERSHAM. 39 
 
 So, trust me, Francklin, when I did awake, 
 
 I stoode in doubt whether I waked or no: 
 
 Such great impression tooke this fond surprise. 30 
 
 God graunt this vision bedeeme me any good. 
 
 Francklin. This fantassie doeth rise from Michaels feare. 
 Who being awaked with the noysc he made, 
 His troubled sences yet could take no rest; 
 And this, 1 warant you, procured your dreame. 35 
 
 Arden. It may be so, God frame it to the best: 
 But often times my dreames presage to trew. 
 
 Francklin. To such as note their nightly fantasies, 
 Some one in twenty may incurre beliefej 
 But vse it not, tis but a mockery. 40 
 
 Arden. Come, M. Francklin ; wele now walke in Paules 
 And dyne togeather at the ordinary. 
 And by my mans direction draw to the key. 
 And with the tyde go down to Feuershame. 
 Say, M. Francklin, shall it not be so? 45 
 
 Francklin. At your good pleasure, sir; He beare you companye. 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 Aldersgaie. 
 Here enters IMichaell at one doore. 
 Here enters Greene, Will, and Shakebag at another dore. 
 Will. Draw, Shakbag, for hecrs that villaine Michael. 
 Greene. First, Will, lets hcare what he can say. 
 Will. Speak, milksope slave, and neuer after speake. 
 Michaell. For Gods sake, sirs, let me excuse my selfe: 
 For heare I sweare, by heauen and earth and all, 
 I did performe the outmost of my task. 
 And left the doores vnbolted and vnlockt. 
 But see the chaunce: Francklin and my master 
 Were very late conferring in the porch, 
 
 31. deemed Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 46. Two lines in Edd., div. at 
 Scene IV. Stage-dir. add. by Tyr. — 2. Will om. C and mod. Edd. 
 3. milksop, slave Del. 
 
 sir. 
 
40 
 
 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [HI, 5. 
 
 10 And Francklin left his napkin where he sat 
 With certain gould knit in it, as he said. 
 Being in bed, he did bethinke himselfe, 
 ' And comming down he found the dores vnshut: 
 He lockt the gates, and brought away the keyes, 
 15 For which offence my master rated me. 
 
 But now I am going to see what floode it is, 
 For with the tyde my Master will away; 
 Where you may front him well on Raynum-Downe, 
 A place well fitting such a stratageme. 
 20 ir///. Your excuse hath somewhat molyfied my choller. 
 
 Why now, Greene, tis better now nor ere it was. 
 Greene. But, Michael!, is this trew? 
 Michaell. As trew as I report it to be trcw. 
 Shakebagge. Then, Michaell, this shall be your pennance, 
 25 To feast vs all at the S alutation , 
 
 Where we will plat our purpose throughly. 
 
 Greene. And, Michael, you shal bear no newes of this tide, 
 Because they two may be in Raynum-Down 
 Before your Master. 
 30 Michaell. Why, He agree to any thing youle haue me, 
 
 So you will accept of my company. \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 Arden's House at Feii^rshani. 
 Here enters Mosby. 
 Mosby. Disturbed thoughts dryues me from company 
 And dryes my marrow with their watchfulnes; 
 Continuall trouble of my moody braine 
 Feebles my body by excesse of drinke, 
 5 And nips me as the bitter Northeast wind 
 Doeth check the tender blosoms in the spring. 
 
 18. //-o«j AB; Rainam C, Rainham mod. Edd. — 21. Kor] than Jac, 
 Tyr., and Del. — 22. thisi it *^ and mod. Edd. — 26. ptot Jac, Tyr., and 
 Del.; ttiorowly C. - 28—29. One line in ABC. — 28. Rainam C, Rainham 
 mod. Edd. --31. accepti except ABC. 
 
 Scene V. New Act in Tyr.; Stage-dir. add. by Tyr. — i. drive Del. — 
 2. dry Del. 
 
ni, 5.] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 
 
 41 
 
 Well fares the man, how ere his cates do taste, 
 That tables not with foule suspition; 
 And he but pines amongst his delicats. 
 
 Whose troubled minde is stuft with discontent. lo 
 
 My goulden time was when I had no gould; 
 Though then I wanted, yet I slept secure; 
 My dayly toyle begat me nights repose, 
 My nights repose made daylight fresh to me. 
 
 But since I climbd the toppe-bough of the tree 15 
 
 And sought to build my nest among the clouds, 
 Each gentle stary gaile doth shake my bed. 
 And makes me dread my downfall to the earth. 
 But whether doeth contemplation carry me? 
 
 The way I seeke to finde, where pleasure dwels, 20 
 
 Is hedged behinde me that I cannot back. 
 But needs must on, although to dangers gate. 
 Then, Arden, perish thou by that decre ; 
 For Greene doth erre the land and weede thee vp 
 To make my haruest nothing but pure corne. 25 
 
 And for his paines lie hiue him vp a while, 
 And after smother him to haue his waxe: 
 Such bees as Greene must neuer Hue to sting. 
 Then is there Michael and the Painter to, 
 
 Cheefe actors to Ardens ouerthrow; 30 
 
 Who when they shall see me sit in Ardens seat. 
 They wil insult vpon me for my mede, 
 Or fright me by detecting of his end. 
 lie none of that, for I can cast a bone 
 
 To make these curres pluck out each others throat, 35 
 
 And then am I sole ruler of mine owne. 
 Yet mistres Arden Hues; but she's my selfe. 
 And holy Churchrites makes vs two but one. 
 But what for that? I may not trust you. Ales: 
 You haue supplanted Arden for my sake, 40 
 
 : And will extirpen me to plant another. 
 
 12. Thought A. — 21. Mr. Bullen prints beneath for behinde. — 24. erre, 
 i. e. ear; heyre C; Mr. Bullen prints eare. — 26. hiuel heaue ABC and Edd.; 
 corr. by Del. — 30. Elze (Notes, I., p. I) proposes to read actors both. — 
 31. shall om. C and mod. Edd. (Read they'll). — 38. make mod. Edd. 
 
42 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [HI, 5. 
 
 Tis fearefull sleeping in a serpents bed, 
 And I wil cleancly rid my liands of her. 
 
 Here enters Ales. 
 But here she comes and I must ilatter her. 
 45 — How now, Ales? what, sad and passionat? 
 Make me pertaker of thy pensiuenes: 
 Fyre devided burnes with lesser force. 
 
 Ales. But I will damne that fire in my breast 
 Till by the force therof my part consume. 
 50 Ah, Mosbie! 
 
 3Iosbie. Such dcpe-fet sighs, lyke to a cannons burst 
 ', Dischargde against a ruinated wall, 
 
 Breakes my relenting hart in thousand pieces. 
 Vngentle Ales, thy sorrow is my sore; 
 55 Thou knowst it wel, and tis thy pojlicy 
 
 To forge distressefuU looks to wound a breast 
 Where lyes a hart that dies when thou art sad. 
 It is not loue that ioues to anger loue. 
 
 Ales. It is not loue that Ioues to murther loue. 
 60 Mosbie. How meane you that? 
 
 Ales. Thou knowest how dearly Arden loued me. 
 JMosbie. And then? 
 
 Ales. And then — conceale the rest, for tis too bad. 
 Least that my words be carried with the wind, 
 65 And publisht in the world, to both our shames. 
 I pray thee, Mosbye, let our springtime wither; 
 Our haruest els will yeald but lothsome weedes. 
 Forget, I pray thee, what hath past betwixt vs. 
 For how I blushe and tremble at the thoughts! 
 70 Mosbie. What? are you changde? 
 
 Ales. I, to my former happy lyfe againe, 
 From tytle of an odious strumpets name 
 To honest Ardens wife, not Ardens honest wife. 
 
 46. partake Jac, and Tyr. , in Jacob's ed. corrected in the list of 
 printer's errors. — 47, 48. fire used as a disyllable. — 48. /«] within Jac, 
 Tyr., and Del. — 49 — 50. One line ia old Edd. — 51. Depe ■b athaires ABC 
 and Edd., deep-fet airs Del. Cp., aboue, III. i. 41. — 52. Discharge C. — 
 53. Break Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 57. wlien'\ where A. — 68. haU C, Jac, and Tyr. 
 
ni, 5-] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 43 
 
 Ha, Mosbye! lis thou has rilled me of that 
 
 And rpadejn e slaundrous to all my ki n; 75 
 
 Euen in my forehead is thy name ingrauen, 
 
 A meane Artificer, that lowe-borne name. 
 
 I was bewitched: woe worth the haples howre 
 
 And all the causes that inchaunted me! 
 
 J/os6tc\ Nay, if you ban, let me breath curses forth, 80 
 
 And if you stand so nicely at your fame. 
 Let me repent the credit I haue lost. 
 I haue neglected matters of import 
 That would haue stated me aboue thy state, 
 
 Forslowde aduantages, and spurnd at time: 85 
 
 I, Fortunes right hand IMosbie hath forsooke 
 To take a wanton giglote by the left. 
 I left the Mariage of an honest maid, 
 \^''hose dowry would haue weyed down all thy wealth. 
 Whose beauty and demianor farre exceeded thee : 90 
 
 This certaine good I lost for changing bad. 
 And wrapt my credit in thy company. 
 I was bewitcht, — that is no theame of thine, 
 And thou vnhallowed has enchaunted me. 
 
 But I will breake thy spels and excircismes, 95 
 
 And put another sight vpon these eyes 
 That shewed my hart a rauen for a doue. 
 Thou art not faire, I vieud thee not till now; 
 Thou art not kinde, till now I knew thee not; 
 And now the raine hath beaten of thy gilt, 100 
 
 Thy worthies copper showes thee counterfet. 
 It grieues me not to see how foull thou art, 
 But maddes me that euer I thought thee faire. 
 Go, get thee gone, a copsemate for thy hyndes; 
 I am too good to be thy fauorite. 105 
 
 AL's. I, now I see, and too soone find it trew. 
 Which often hath beene tould me by my freends. 
 That Mosbie loues me not but for my wealth, 
 
 74. Read Ifa, Mosbye |; hast Del. — 77. Artijicurr A. — 94. hast C 
 and mod. Edd. — 95. cxcirsimes ABC. — 97. doue\ dowe A. — 99. thee] 
 the old Edd. — 103. / euer Del. — 107. me ora. C, 
 
44 
 
 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [HI, 5- 
 
 Which too incredulus I nere beleeued. 
 no Nay, heare me speake, Mosbie, a word or two; 
 
 He byte my tongue if it speake bitterly. 
 
 Looke on me, Mosby, or He kill my selfe: 
 
 Nothing shall hide me from thy stormy looke. 
 
 If thou cry warre, there is no peace for me; 
 115 I will do pennance for offending thee. 
 
 And burne this prayer-booke, where I here vse 
 
 The holy word that had conuerted me. 
 , See, Mosbie, I will teare away the leaues. 
 
 And al the leaues, and in this golden couer 
 120 Shall thy sweet phrases and thy letters dwell; 
 
 And thereon will I chiefly meditate. 
 
 And hould no other sect but such deuotion. 
 
 Wilt thou not looke? is all thy loue ouerwhelmde? 
 
 Wilt thou not heare? what malice stopes thine eares? 
 125 Why speaks thou not? what silence ties thy tongue? 
 
 Thou hast bene sighted as the eagle is, 
 
 And heard as quickly as the fearefull hare. 
 
 And spoke as smoothly as • an orator, 
 
 When I haue bid thee heare or see or speak, 
 130 And art thou sensible in none of these? 
 
 Waigh all thy good turns with this little fault. 
 
 And I deserue not Mosbies muddy lookes. 
 
 A fence of trouble is not thickned still: 
 
 Be cleare againe, He nere more trouble thee. 
 135 Moshie. O no, I am a base artificer; 
 
 My winges are feathred for a lowly flight. 
 
 Mosby? fy! no, not for a thousand pound. 
 
 Make loue to you? why, 'tis vnpardonable; 
 
 We beggers must not breath where gentiles are. 
 140 Ales. Swete Mosbie is as gentle as a King , 
 
 And J_too blinde to iudge him otherwise. 
 
 Flowres do sometimes spring in fallow lands, 
 
 Weedes in gardens, Roses grow on thornes; 
 
 112. or else lie Z, but read 1 will. — 117. hath C — 119. 'iAy, al the 
 leaues. — 124. not thou '^d.c. and Tyr. - 125. speakest C, Tyr., and Del. — 
 131. thy] my Jac, Tyr., and Del. — in. fence] sense Tyr. — 135. O, fie no C. 
 — 142. do om. C. — 143. And weeds Del.; but -weeds is a monosyllabic foot. 
 
 ))■ rtvk.il^)^^^ '^J^L^t/nuytnMi *" 
 
in, 6.] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 
 
 45 
 
 So, what so ere my Mosbies father was, 
 
 Himselfe is valued gentle by his worth. 145 
 
 Moshie. Ah, how you women can insinuate, 
 And cleare a trespasse with your swecte-set tongue ! 
 I will forget this quarrel, gentle Ales, 
 Prouided He be tempted so no more. 
 
 Here enters Bradshaw. 
 
 Ales. Then with thy lips seale vp this new-made match. 150 
 
 Moshie. Soft, Ales, here comes somebody. 
 
 Ales. How now, Bradshaw, whats the news with you? 
 
 Bradshmv. 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; 155 
 
 Tis almost suppertime, thou shalt stay with vs. \Exii Bradshaw. 
 
 Then she reades the letter. 
 'We have mist of our purpose at London, but shall perform 
 it by the waye. We thanke our neighbour Bradshaw. 
 
 Yours, Richard Greene.' 
 How lykes my loue the tennor of this letter? 160 
 
 Moshie. Well, were his date compleat and expired. 
 Ales. Ah, would it were! Then comes my happy howrc: 
 Till then my blisse is mixt with bitter gall. 
 Come, let vs in to shun suspition. 
 , Moshie. I, to the gates of death to follow thee. \_Exeunt. 165 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 Country near Rochester. 
 Here enters Greene, Will and Shakbag. 
 Shakehagge. 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. 
 
 145. is not in old Edd., first add. by Jac. — 151. for here C. — 
 161. completed Jac, Tyr., and Del.; but and expired may be considered as 
 one foot. — 162. Two lines in ABC. — 165. Given to Ales in A. 
 
 Scene VI. Stage-dir, add. by Tyr. — 1—2. Not printed as verse in ABC. 
 
46 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [HI, 6. 
 
 5 Zounds, heres a coyle! 
 
 You were best sweare me on the intergatories 
 
 How many pistols I haue tooke in hand, 
 
 Or whether I loue the smell of gunne-powder. 
 
 Or dare abide the noise the dagge will make, 
 10 Or will not wincke at flashing of the fire. 
 
 I pray thee, Shackbag, let this answer thee. 
 
 That I have tooke more purses in this down 
 
 Then ere thou handledst pistols in thy life. 
 
 Shakehagge. I, happely thou hast pickt more in a throng: 
 15 But, should I bragge what booties I haue tooke, 
 
 I think the ouerplus thats more then thine 
 
 Would mount to a greater somme of money 
 
 Then either thou or all thy kinne are worth. 
 
 Zounds, I hate them as I hate a toade 
 20 That cary a muscado in their tongue. 
 
 And scarce a hurting weapon in their hand. 
 Will. O Greene, intollerabie! 
 
 It is not for mine honour to beare this. 
 
 Why, Shakbag, I did serue the King at Bulloyne, 
 25 And thou canst bragge of nothing that thou hast done. 
 Shakehagge. Why, so can Jack of Feuersham e, 
 
 That sounded for a phillope on the nose. 
 
 When he that gaue it him hollowed in his eare. 
 
 And he supposed a Cannon-bullet hit him. 
 
 '. Then they fight. 
 30 Greene. I pray you, sirs, list to Esops talk: 
 
 Whilest two stout dogs were s.triuing for a bone, 
 
 There comes a cur and stole it from them both ; 
 
 So, while you stand striuing on these termes of manhoodc, 
 
 Arden escapes vs, and deceaues vs al. 
 35 Shakehagge. Why, he begun. 
 
 Will. And thou shalt finde He end ; 
 
 I doo but slip it vntil better time : 
 
 But, if I do forget — 
 
 Then hee kneeles downe and houldes up his hands to heauen. 
 
 5—7. Two lines in A, div. at on the \. — 17. Read: Would mou\nt 
 to \. — 25. that om. C. — 30. tisten Del. — 34. escape C; decedue ABC. 
 
IM. 6.J ARDEN OF FEYERSHAM. 
 
 47 
 
 Greene. Wei, take your fittest standings, and once more 
 Lime your twigs to catch this wary bird. 
 
 lie leaue you, and at your dags discharge 40 
 
 Make towards, lyke the longing water-dog 
 That coucheth til the fowling-peece be of. 
 Then ceazeth on the pray with eager moode. 
 Ah, might 1 see him stretching foorth his limmes, 
 As I haue scene them beat their wings ere now! 45 
 
 Shakebagge. Why, that thou shalt see, if he come this way. 
 
 Greetie. Yes, that he doth, Shakbag, I warrant thee: 
 But braul not when I am gone in any case. 
 But, sirs, be sure to speede him when he comes. 
 And in that hope lie leaue you for an houre. 'lExit Greene. 50 
 
 Here enters Arden, Francklin, and Michaell. 
 
 Michaell. Twere best that 1 went back to Rochester: 
 The horse halts downright; it were not good 
 He trauailed in such paine to Feuershame; 
 Remouing of a shoe may happely help it. 
 
 Arden. Well, get you back to Rochester; but, sirra, see 55 
 
 Ye ouertake vs ere we come to Raynum-Down, 
 For it will be very late ere we get home. 
 
 Michaell. — 1, God he knowes, and so 'doth Will and Shake- 
 That thou shalt neuer go further then that downe ; [bagge, 
 And therefore haue I prickt the horse on purpose, 60 
 Because 1 would not view the massacar. \Exit Michaell. 
 
 Arden. Come, M. Francklin, onwards with your tale. 
 
 Francklin. I assure you, sir, you taske me much: 
 A heauy bloode is gathered at my hart. 
 
 And on the sudden is my winde so short 65 
 
 As hindereth the passage of my speach; 
 So ferse a qualme yet neere assayled me. 
 
 Arden. Come, M. Francklin, let vs go on softly: 
 The anoyance of the dust or els some meat 
 
 39. Lime well your Jac, Tyr., and Del., Lime is a monosyllabic foot; 
 ■weary ABC. — 46. comes Jac. , Tyr., and Del. — 55— S*^- Piinted as 
 prose in old Edd., div. by Del. — 56. Rainham Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 
 58. he om. Tyr. — 62. onward Jac, Tyr., and Del. 
 
48 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [HI, 6. 
 
 70 You eat at dinner cannot brooke with you. 
 I haue l)ene often so, and soone amended. 
 
 Francklin. Do you remember where my tale did leaue? 
 Arden. I, where the gentleman did check his wife. 
 Francklin. She being reprehended for the fact, 
 75 Witnes produced that tooke her with the deed, 
 Her gloue broght in which there she left behind, 
 And many other assured Arguments, 
 Her husband askt her whether it were not so. 
 
 Arden. Her answer then? I wonder how she lookt, 
 80 Hauing forsworne it with such vehement oathes. 
 And at the instant so approued vppon her. 
 
 Francldin. First did she cast her eyes down to the earth. 
 Watching the drops that fell amaine from thence; 
 Then softly drawes she foorth her handkercher, 
 85 And modestly she wypes her teare-staind face; 
 
 Then hemd she out, to cleare her voice should seeme. 
 And with a maiesty addrest her selfe 
 To encounter all their accusations. — 
 Pardon me, M. Arden, I can no more; 
 90 This fighting at my hart makes shorte my wynde. 
 
 Arden. Come, we are almost now at Raynum-Downe : 
 Your pretty tale beguiles the weary way; 
 I would you were in state to tell it out. 
 
 Shakebagge. Stand close, Will, I heare them cumming. 
 
 Here enters Lord Cheiny wilh his men. 
 95 Will. Stand to it, Shakbag, and be resolute. 
 
 Lord Cheiny. Is it so neere night as it seemes 
 Or wil this black-faced euening haue a showre? 
 — What, M. Arden? you are well met, 
 I haue longd this fortnights day to speake with you: 
 100 You are a stranger, man, in the ile of Sheppy. 
 
 Arden. Your honors alwayes: bound to do you seruice. 
 Lord Cheiny. Come you from London, and nere a man with you? 
 Arden. My man's comming after, but her's 
 My honest freend that came along with me. 
 
 70. ate C; with om. A. — 91. Rainhain Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 93. state\ 
 case C. — loi. always bound Del. 
 
Ill, 6.] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 49 
 
 Lord Cheinj. M)- Lord protectors man I take you to bee. 105 
 
 FranckHn. I, m)' good Lord, and highly bound to you. 
 
 Lord Cheiny. Vou and your frend come home and sup with me. 
 
 Arden. I beseech your honor pardon me; 
 I haue made a promise to a gentleman, 
 
 My honest freend, to meete him at my house; . iio 
 
 The occasion is great, or els would I wait on you. 
 
 Lord Cheiny. Will you come to-morrow and dyne with me, 
 And bring your honest frend along with you? 
 I haue dyuers matters to talke with you about. 
 
 Arden. To-morrow wele waite vpon your honor. 1 1 5 
 
 Lord Cheiny. One of you staye my horse at the top of the hil. 
 
 — vVhat! Black Will? for whose purse wait you? 
 Thou wilt be hanged in Kent, when all is done. 
 
 Will. Not hanged, God saue your honour; 
 I am your bedesman, bound to pray for you. 120 
 
 Lord Cheiny. I think thou nere saidest prayer in all thy lyfe. — 
 One of you giue him a crowne: — 
 And, sirra, leaue this kinde of lyfe; 
 If thou beest tainted for a penny-matter. 
 And come in question, surely, thou wilt trusse. 125 
 
 — Come, M. Arden, let vs be going; 
 
 Youre way and mine lyes foure myle togeathcr. 
 
 [Exeunt. I\Ianei Black Will and Shakbag. 
 Will. The Deuill break all your necks at 4 myles end! 
 Zounds, I could kill my selfe for very anger! 
 
 His Lordship chops me in, 130 
 
 Euen when my dagge was leaueld at his hart. 
 I would his crowne were molten down his throat. 
 
 Shakehagge. Arden, thou hast wondrous holye luck. 
 Did euer man escape as thou hast done? 
 
 Well, He discharge my pistoll at the skye, I35 
 
 For by this bullet Arden might not die. 
 
 Hei-e enters Greene. 
 Greene. Wh^X, is he down? is he dispatcht? 
 Shakehagge. I, in health towards Feuershame, to shame vs all. 
 
 114. Read I've dy \ vers mat \ trrs tn tall^e \. — 116. Rend at t/i'fop \ 
 ofih.'ltilt\. — 122. Read One of yon |. — i2/\.beesf] nrt Tyr,; «] one C. - 
 127. miles C ; read>«r as a disyllable. - 130-131- Div. at when \ in old Edd. 
 
 4 
 
50 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. pV, I. 
 
 Greene. The Deuill he is! why, sirs, how escapt he? 
 140 Shakebagge. Wlien we were ready to shoote, 
 Comes my Lord Cheiny to preuent his death. 
 
 Greene. The Lord of heauen hath preserued him. 
 ]V,7/. Preserued a figge ! The L. Cheiny hath preserued him, 
 And bids him' to a feast to his house at Shorlow. 
 145 But by the way once more He meete with him, 
 And, if all the Cheinies in the world say no, 
 He haue a bullet in his breast to morrow. 
 Therefore come, Greene, and let vs to Feuershame. 
 Greene. I, and excuse our selues to mistres Arden: 
 150 O, how shele chafe when she heares of this! 
 
 Shakebagge. Why, ile warrant you shel think we dare not do it. 
 Will. Why, then let vs go, and tell her all the matter. 
 And plat the newes to cut him of to morrow. \Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE L 
 Arden's House at Feuersham. 
 Here enters Arden and his wife, Francklin, and M[Chaell. 
 Arden. See how the hours, the gardeant of heauens gate, 
 Haue by their toyle remoued the darksome cloudes. 
 That Soil may wel deserne the trampled path 
 Wherein he wount to guide his golden car : 
 5 The season fits; come, Francklin, let's away. 
 
 Ales. I thought you did pretend some special 1 hunt, 
 That made you thus cut shorte the time of rest. 
 
 Arden. It was no chase that made me rise so earl)', 
 But, as I tould thee yesternight, to go 
 10 To the lie of Sheppy, there to dine with my Lord Cheiny; 
 
 143. Preserv'd? a fig ! Del. — 144. at Tyr.; Skurland mod. Edd. — 
 153. flat C and mod. Edd. 
 
 Act IV. SCENF. I. Stage-dir. add. by Tyr. — \. the guard at of C; 
 gardians (without the) Jac, Tyr., Del.; but the author means .to %-Ay gar- 
 dant, i. c. sentinel, guard. — 3. deserue A; pace ABC and Edd. — 9 — 10. Div. 
 at Sheppy \ in old Edd.; printed as three lines, div. aX. yesternight \ dine \ 
 Cheiny \ Del. 
 
IV, I.] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 51 
 
 For so his honor late commandod me. 
 
 Aks. I, such kinde husbands seldom want excuses; 
 Home is a wilde cat to a wandring wit. 
 The time hath beene, — would God it were not past, — 
 That honors tytle nor a Lords command 15 
 
 Could once haue drawne 3'ou from these armes of mine. 
 But my deserts or your desires decay. 
 Or both; yet if trew loue may seeme desert, 
 I merite stil to haue thy company. 
 
 Francklin. Why, I pray you, sir, let her go along with vs; 20 
 I am sure his honor wil welcome her 
 And vs the more for bringing her along. 
 
 Arden. Content; sirra, saddle your mistrcs nagge. 
 
 Aks. No, begde fauor merits little thankes; 
 If I should go, our house would runne away, 25 
 
 Or els be stolne; therefore He stay behind. 
 
 Arden. Nay, see how mistaking you are! I pray thee, goe. 
 
 Ales. No, no, not now. 
 
 Ai-den. Then let me leaue thee satisfied in this. 
 That time nor place nor persons alter me, 30 
 
 But that I hould thee dearer then my life. 
 
 Ales. That will be scene by your quick returne. 
 
 Arden. And that shall be ere night, and if I Hue. 
 Farewell, sweete Ales, we mind to sup \\ith thee. \E.xit Ales. 
 
 Francklin. Come, Michaell, are our horses ready? 35 
 
 Michaell. I, your horse are read}', but I am not ready, for 
 I haue lost my purse, with six and thirtic shillingcs in it, with 
 taking vp of my Masters Nagge. 
 
 Francklin. \^'hy, I pray )'ou, let vs go before, 
 Whiiest he stayes behind to seeke his purse. 40 
 
 Arden. Go too, sirra, see you follow vs to the ile of Sheppye 
 To my Lord Cheynyes, where we meane to dine. 
 
 [Exeunt Arden and Francklin. 
 \_Manet Michaell. 
 
 15. honours, title Del. — 17- desires'] deserues ABC and Edd. — 
 20. Read 'long. — 27. Two lines in ABC, div. at are \. - 32- seen soon by Tyr. 
 {see7ie or your may be read as a disyllable). — 33- *■? o™. C. — 36-38- Div. at 
 ready \ purse \ in it \ Kagge \ in old Edd. ; printed as prose by Del. - 
 36. ko,-ses C and Tyr. — 38. 0/ om. C. — 4'- ^^^ that you C. 
 
 4* 
 
52 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [IV, I. 
 
 Michael/. So, faire weather after you, for before you lyes 
 Black Will and Shakebag in the broome close, too close for 
 45 you: theyle be your ferrymen to long home. 
 
 Here enters the Painter. 
 But who is" this? the Painter, my corriual, that would nedes 
 winne M. Susan. 
 
 Clarke. How now, Michael? how doth my Mistresse and 
 all at home? 
 50 Michaell. Who? Susan Mosbye? she is your Mistres, too? 
 Clarke. I, how doth she and all the rest? 
 Michaell. Al's well but Susan; she is sicke. 
 Clarke. Sick? Of what disease? 
 Michaell. Of a great feuer. 
 55 Clarke. A feare of what? 
 
 Michaell. A great feuer. 
 Clarke. A feuer? God forbidde! 
 
 Michaell. Yes, faith, and of a lordaine , too, as bigge as 
 your selfe. 
 6.0 Clarke. O, Michael, the spleane prickles you. Go too, you 
 
 carry an eye ouer mistres Susan. 
 
 Michaell. I faith, to keepe her from the Painter. 
 Clarke. Why more from a Painter then from a seruing 
 creature like your selfe? 
 65 Michaell. Because you Painters make but a painting table 
 
 of a pretty wench, and spoile her beauty with blotting. 
 Clarke. What meane you by that? 
 
 Michaell. Why, that you Painters paint lambes in the lyning 
 of wenches peticots, and we seruingmen put homes to them 
 70 to make them become sheepe. 
 
 Clarke. Such another word wil cost you a cuffe or a knock. 
 Michaell. What, with a dagger made of a pensell? Faith, 
 tis too weake, and therefore thou to weak to winne Susan. 
 Clarke. Would Susans loue lay vppon this stroke. 
 Then he breaks Michaells head. 
 
 43 - 47- Div. at you \ Shaiebag \ you \ hotne \ corriual \ Susan \ in old 
 Edd. — 45. to u long home Del. — 54. feuer-] fear ABC and Edd., corr. 
 by Del. - 58. Div. at too \ in old Edd. — 60. Div. at p,-ickles you \ in old 
 Edd.; pricks BC. - 66. with aC — 68. linifigs Tyr. ~ 68—70. Div. at peti- 
 cots I sheepe | in old Edd. - 72-73. Div. at pensell | weake \ Susan I in 
 old Edd. ' ' ' 
 
IV, I.] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 
 
 53 
 
 Here enters Mosby, Greene, and Ales. 
 
 Ales. He lay my lyfe, this is for Susans loue. 75 
 
 Stayd you behinde your Master to this end? 
 Haue you no other time to brable in 
 But now when serious matters are in hand? — 
 Say, Clarke, hast thou done the thing thou promised? 
 
 Clarke. I, heare it is; the very touch is death. 80 
 
 Ales. Then this, I hope, if all the rest do faile, 
 Wil catch M. Arden, 
 
 And make him wise in death that liued a foole. 
 \ Why should he thrust his sickle in our corne, 
 , Or what hath he to do with thee, my loue, 85 
 
 I Or gouerne me that am to rule my selfe? \J 
 Forsooth, for credit sake, I must leaue thee: 
 • Nay, he must leaue to Hue that we may loue. 
 Way liue, may loue; for what is lyfe but loue? 
 And loue shall last as long as lyfe remaines, go 
 
 And lyfe shall end before my loue depart. 
 
 Mosbie. Why, whats loue without true constancy? 
 Lyke to a piller built of many stones, 
 Yet neither with good morter well compact 
 
 Nor cement to fasten it in the ioynts, 95 
 
 But that it shakes with euery blast of winde, 
 And, being toucht, straight falles vnto the earth, 
 And buries all his haughty pride in dust. 
 No, let our loue be rockes of Addamant, 
 Which time nor place nor tempest can asunder. 100 
 
 Greene. Mosbie, leaue protestations now. 
 And let vs bethinke vs what wc haue to doo. 
 Black Will and Shakebag I haue placed in the broome. 
 Close watching Ardens comming ; lets to them 
 And see what they haue done. \_E.\eunt. 105 
 
 79. fromisedst C. — 95. ceinent\ semell AB; Nor with ecnient Del., 
 but nor may be a disyllable. — lOo. u. mndcr AB. — 103 — 105. Div. at 
 placed I comming \ done \ in old Edd. ; corr. by Del. 
 
54 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [IV, 2. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 The Kentish Coast opposite the Isle of Sheppey. 
 Here enters AuDEN and Francklin. 
 Arden. Oh, ferry-man, where art thou? 
 
 Here enters the Ferriman. 
 Ferryman. Here, here, goe before to the boat, and I will 
 follow you. 
 
 Arden. We haue great haste; I pray thee, come away. 
 5 Ferryman. Fy, what a mist is here! 
 
 Arden. This mist, my frend, is misticall, 
 L}ke to a good companions smoaky braine, 
 That was halfe dround with new ale ouer night. 
 
 Ferryman. Twere pitty but his scull were opened to make 
 lO more Chimney-roome. 
 
 Francldin. Freend, whats thy opinion of this mist? 
 Ferryman. I think tis lyke to a curst wife in a lytle house, 
 that neuer leaues her husband till she haue driuen him out 
 at doores with a wet paire of eyes; then lookes he as if 
 15 his house were a fire, or some of his freends dead. 
 
 Arden. Speaks thou this of thine owne experience? 
 Ferryman. Perhaps, I; perhaps, no : For my wife is as other 
 women are, that is to say, gouerned by the Moone. 
 Francklin. By the Moone? how, I pray thee? 
 20 Ferryman. Na, thereby lyes a bargane, and you shall not 
 haue it fresh and fasting. 
 
 Arden. Yes, I pray thee, good ferryman. 
 Ferryman. Then for this once ; let it be midsommer Moone, 
 but yet my wyfe has another moone. 
 25 Francklin. Another Moone? 
 
 Ferryman. I, and it hath influences and Eclipses. 
 Arden. Why, then, by this reconing you somtimes play the 
 man in the Moone? 
 
 Scene II. Stage-dir. add. by Tyr. — 2—3. Div. at boat \you \ in old 
 Edd. — 9—10. Div. at opened \ in old Edd. — ^2—15. Div. ad hoiise \ eyes \ 
 fire I dead \ ABC. — 12. lytie a BC. — 13. she driue BC. — 16. Spealiest C. 
 — 18. are cm. Tyr. — 20. Div. at bargane \ in ABC. — 23—24. Div. at 
 Moone \ in ABC. — 24. has^ as AB. — 27. Div. at somtimes \ in old Edd, 
 
IV, 3-] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 
 
 55 
 
 Ferryman. I, but you had best not to meddle with that 
 moone, least I scratch you by the face with my bramble-bush. 30 
 
 Ardcn. I am almost stifled with this fog; come, lets away. 
 
 Franchlin. And, sirra, as we go, let vs haue som more of 
 your bolde yeomandry. 
 
 Ferryman. Nay, by my troth, sir, but flat knauery. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 Another place on the Coast. 
 Here enters Will at one doore, and Shakkag at another. 
 Shakebagge. Oh, Will, where art thou? 
 Will. Here, Shakbag, almost in hels mouth, where I can not 
 see my way for smoake. 
 
 Shakebagge. I pray thee speake still that we may mete by 
 the sound, for I shall fall into some ditche or other, vnles my 5 
 feete see better then my eies. 
 
 Will. Didest thou euer see better weather to runne away 
 with another mans wife, or play with a wenche at pot-finger? 
 Shakebagge. No; this were a fine world for chandlers, if 
 this weather would last; for then a man should neuer dyne 10 
 nor sup without candle-light. But, sirra Will, what horses are 
 those that past? 
 
 Will. Why, didst thou heare any? 
 Shakebagge. I, that I did. 
 
 Will. JNIy lyfe for thine, twas Arden, and his companion, 15 
 and then all our labour's lost. 
 
 Shakebagge. Nay, say not so, for if it be they, they may 
 happely loose their way as we haue done, and then we may 
 chaunce meete with them. 
 
 Will. Come, let vs go on lyke a couple of bhnd pilgrims. 20 
 Then Shakebag falles into a ditch. 
 
 29. not best to ABC and Edd. — 29 — 30. Div. at moone \ in old Edd. — 
 32. lets C. 
 
 Scene III. The scene is continued in Tyr. — 2—3- Div. at mouth \ in 
 old Edd. — 4—6. Div. at sound | other | eyes \ Del. — 5. for'] or C, and Jac, 
 Tyr., and Del. — 9 — 12. Div. at chandlers \ man \ light \ past \ ABC. — 
 13. thou om. C. — 15—16. Div. at companion \ ABC. — 17—19- Div. at 
 done I them I ABC. — 20. let's C. 
 
56 ARDKN OF FEVERSHAM. PV, 3. 
 
 Shakebagge. Helpc, Will, help! I am almost drownd. 
 
 Here enters the Ferryman. 
 Ferryman. Whose that that calles for help? 
 Will. Twas none heere, twas thou thy selfe. 
 Ferryman. I came to help him that cald for help. Why, 
 25 how now? who is this that's in the ditch? You are well enough 
 serucd to goe without a guyde such weather as this. 
 
 Will. Sirra, what companyes hath past your ferry this 
 morning? 
 
 Ferryman. None but a cupple of gentlemen, that went to 
 30 dyne at my Lord Cheyneis. 
 
 Will. Shakbag, did not I tell thee as much? 
 Ferryman. Why, sir, will you haue any letters caried to them? 
 Will. No, sir; get you gone. 
 
 Ferryman. Did you euer see such a mist as this ? 
 35 Will. No, nor such a foole as will rather be bought then 
 
 get his way. 
 
 Ferryman. Why, sir, this is no Hough - IMunday ; you ar 
 deceiud. — Whats his name, I pray you, sir? 
 Shakebagge. His name is Black Will. 
 40 Ferryman. I hope to see him one day hangd vpon a hi^. 
 
 \Exii Ferryman. 
 Shakebagge. See how the Sunne hath cleard the foggy mist, 
 Now we haue mist the marke of our intent. 
 
 Here enters Greene, Mosbie, and Ales. 
 Mosbie. Black Will and Shakbag, what make you heer? 
 What, is the deed don? is Arden dead? 
 45 Will. What could a biynded man performe in armes? 
 
 Saw )'ou not how till now the sky was darke, 
 That neither horse nor man could be decerned? 
 Yet did wc heare their horses as they past. 
 
 Greene. Haue they escapt you, then, and past the ferry? 
 
 22. Who's C. — 24—26. Div. at help \ it itch \ this \ ABC. — 25. that's'] 
 that lies C. — 27. companions BC, company Jac. Tyr., and Del.; but com- 
 panies = people, cp. search wliat companies are near Cymb. IV. 2. 69 and 
 710 companies abroad ibid.,101; have C. — 31. / notTyx. — 37. though 
 iday C. 
 
 mundi 
 
IV, 4-] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 57 
 
 Shakebagge. I, for a while; but hero wc two will stay, 50 
 
 And at their comming back meete with them once more. 
 Zounds, I was nere so toylde in all my lyfe 
 In following so slight a taske as this. 
 
 3Iosbie. How camst thou so beraide? 
 
 Will. With making false footing in the dark; 55 
 
 He needes would follow them without a guide. 
 
 Ales. Here's to pay for a fire and good cheere: 
 Get you to Feuershame to the Flower-de-Luce, 
 And rest your selues vntil some other time. 
 
 Greene. Let me alone; it most concernes my state. 60 
 
 Will. I, Mistres Arden, this wil serue the turne, 
 In case we fal into a second fog. 
 
 [Exeunt Greene, Will, and Shakbag. 
 
 Mosbie. These knaues wil neuer do it, let vs giue it ouer. i 
 
 Ales. First tell me how you like my new deuice: 
 Soone, when my husband is returning back, 65 
 
 You and I both marching arme in arme, 
 Lyke louing frends, wele meete him on the way, 
 And boldly beard and braue him to his teeth. 
 When words grow hot and blowes beginne to ryse, 
 lie call those cutters foorth your tenement, 70 
 
 Who, in a manner to take vp the fray. 
 Shall wound my husband Hornbeast to the death. 
 
 Mosbie. A fine deuise! why, this deserues a kisse. SJExeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 The Open Country. 
 Here enters DiCK Reede and a Sailer. 
 Sayler. Faith, Dick Rede, it is to lytle end: 
 His conscience is too liberall, and he too nigardly 
 To parte from any thing may doo thee good. 
 
 Reede. He is coming from Shorlow as I vnderstand; 
 
 57. fire read as a disyllabic. — 63. Read These knaues \ will ne \ -ver 
 do't I let's giue \ it o'er |; Mowcsl words C. — 72. Tlonibeasf] hornesbie ABC 
 and Edd.; cp. infra 4. 82; to death C. — 73. Ah, fine deuise ABC and Edd. 
 
 Scene IV. Stage-dir. add. by Tyr. — 3. thee] him C. — 4. Shurland 
 Jac, Tyr., and Del. 
 
58 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [IV, 4. 
 
 5 Here ile intercept him, for at his house 
 He neuer will vouchsafe to speake with me. 
 If prayers and faire intreaties will not serue. 
 Or make no battry in his flintye breast. 
 
 Here enters Francklin, Arden, and Michaell. 
 
 lie cursse the carle, and see what that wil doo. 
 10 Se where he comes to further my intent! — 
 
 M. Arden, I am now bound to the sea; 
 
 My comming to you was about the plat 
 
 Of ground which wrongfully you detaine from me: 
 
 Although the rent of it be very small, 
 15 Yet will it helpe my wife and children, 
 
 Which here I leaue in Feuershame, God knowes, 
 
 Needy and bare: for Christs sake, let them haue it! 
 Arde7i. Francklin, hearest thou this fellow speake? 
 
 That which he craues I dearely bought of him, 
 20 Although the rent of it was euer mine. — 
 
 Sirra, you that aske these questions. 
 
 If with thy clamarous impeaching tongue 
 
 Thou raile on me, as I haue heard thou dost, 
 
 lie lay thee vp so close a twelue-months day, 
 25 As thou shalt neither see the Sonne nor Moone. 
 
 Looke to it, for, as surely as I liue, 
 
 lie banish pittie if thou vse me thus. 
 
 Rede. What, wilt thou do me wrong and threat me, too? 
 
 Nay, then, lie tempt thee, Arden, doo thy worst. 
 30 God, I beseech thee, show some miracle 
 
 On thee or thine, in plaguing thee for this. 
 
 That plot of ground which thou detaines from me, 
 
 1 speake it in an agony of spirite. 
 
 Be ruinous and fatall vnto thee! 
 35 Either there be butcherd by thy dearest freends. 
 
 Or els be brought for men to wonder at. 
 
 Or thou or thine miscary in that place. 
 
 Or there runne mad and end thy cursed dayes! 
 
 6. vouchafe A. — 12. plot C and mod. Edd. — 12—13. Div. ?A ground \ 
 in old Edd. — 27. you C. — 28. threaten C. — 31. plauging A. — 32. de- 
 tainest C. 
 
IV, 4-J ARDEN OF FEVERSI-IAM. 
 
 59 
 
 Franchlin. Fy, bitter knaiie, brydle thine enuious tongue; 
 P"or curses are like arrowes shot vpright, 40 
 
 Which falling doiin light on the shuters head. 
 
 Rede. Light where they will! Were I vppon the sea, 
 As oft I haue in many a bitter storme. 
 And saw a dreadful! suthern flaw at hand, 
 
 The Pylate quaking at the doubtfull storme, 45 
 
 And all the saylers praying on their knees, 
 Euen in that fearefull time would I fall down, 
 And aske of God, what ere betide of me. 
 Vengeance on Arden or some misevent 
 
 To shewe the world what wrong the carle hath done. 50 
 
 This charge lie leaue with my distresfull wife, 
 My children shall be taught such praiers as these: 
 And thus I go, but leaue my cursse with thee. 
 
 \Exeimt Rede and Saylcr. 
 Arden. It is the raylingest knave in christendome. 
 And oftentimes the villaine will be mad ; 55 
 
 It greatly matters not what he sayes. 
 But I assure you I nere did him wrong. 
 Francklin. I think so, M. Arden. 
 Arden. Now that our horses are gone home before. 
 My wife may hapely mete me on the way. 60 
 
 For God knowes she is growne passing kinde of late. 
 And greatly chaunged from 
 The oulde humor of her wounted frowardnes, 
 And seekes by faire meanes to redeeme ould faults. 
 
 Francklin. Happy the change that alters for the best ! 65 
 
 But see in any case you make no speache 
 Of the cheare we had at my Lord Cheinies, 
 Although most bounteous and liberal!, 
 For that will make her think her selfe more wrongd. 
 In that we did not carry her along; 70 
 
 For sure she greeued that she was left behinde. 
 
 Arden. Come, Franckhn, let vs strain to mend our pace. 
 And take her vnawares playing the cooke; 
 
 41. sutors AB. — 45. Pilots C. — 56. ? wliat ever fie says. — 60. me 
 om. C. — 62 — 63. Div. at humor \ in old Edd., corr. by Del. — 73. her om, 
 C; to play C. 
 
6o ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [IV, 4. 
 
 Here enters Ales and MoSBlE. 
 For I beleeue sheele stryue to mend our cheere. 
 75 . Francklin. Why, thers no better creaturs in the world, 
 ' Then women are when they are in good humors. 
 
 Arden. Who is that? Mosbie? what, so familiare? 
 Iniurious strumpet, and thou ribald knaue, 
 Untwyne those armes. 
 80 Aks. I, with a sugred kisse let them vntwine. 
 
 Arden. Ah, Mosbie! periurde beast! beare this and all! 
 Mosbie. And yet no horned beast; the homes are thine. 
 Francklin. O monstrous! Nay, then tis time to draw. 
 Ales. Helpe, helpe! they murther my husband. 
 
 Here enters Will and Shakbag. 
 
 85 Shakebagge. Zounds, who iniures M. Mosbie? Help, Wil! 
 
 [I am hurt. 
 Mosbie. I may thank you, Mistres Arden, for this wound. 
 
 [Exeunt MosBY, Will, and Shakbag. 
 Ales. Ah, Arden, what folly blinded thee? 
 Ah, Jelious harebrained man, what hast thou don! 
 When we, to welcome thee with intended sport, 
 go Carne louingly to mete thee on thy way. 
 
 Thou drewst thy sword, inraged with Jelousy, 
 And hurte thy freende whose thoughts were free from harme ; 
 All for a woorthles kisse and ioyning armes. 
 Both don but mirrely to try thy patience. 
 95 And me vnhappy that deuysed the Jest, 
 
 Which, though begonne in sporte, yet ends in bloode! 
 Francklin. Mary, God. defend me from such a Jeast! 
 Ales. Couldst thou not see vs frendly smyle on thee. 
 When we ioynd armes, and when I kist his cheeke? 
 loO Hast thou not lately found me ouer-kinde? 
 
 Didst thou not heare me cry 'they murther thee'? 
 Cald I not helpe to set my husband free? 
 No, eares and all were witcht; ah me accurst 
 
 75. creature BC. — 82. home-beast C; two lines in AB, div. at beast \. 
 — 85. Div. at Mosbie \ in old Edd. — 88. harebraine ABC, corr. by Tyr. — 
 8g. 'Welcome thy intended ABC and Edd. — 92. Div. at freende \ in ABC. — 
 94. mirrely, i. e. merely. — 95. Aye me Del. — 98. thee'\ this Jac, Tyr., and Del, 
 
IV, 4-] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 6 1 
 
 To lincke in lyldng with a frantick man! 
 
 Henceloorth He be thy slaue, no more th}- wife, 105 
 
 For with that name I neuer shall content thee. 
 
 If I be merry, thou straitwaies thinks me light; 
 
 If sad, thou saiest the sullens trouble me; 
 
 If well attyred, thou thinks I will be gadding; 
 
 If homely, I seeme sluttish in thine eye: no 
 
 Thus am I still, and shall be while 1 die, 
 
 Poore. wench abused b y thy misgouernment! o^ 
 
 Arden. But is it for trueth that neither thou nor he 
 Entendedst malice in your misdemeanor? 
 
 Ales. The heauens can witnes of our harmles thoghts. 115 
 
 Arden. Then pardon me, sweete Ales, and forgiue this faulte : 
 Forget but this and neuer see the lyke. 
 Impose me pennance, and I will performe it. 
 For in thy discontent I finde a death, — 
 A death tormenting more then death it selfe. 120 
 
 Ales. Nay, hadst thou loued me as thou docst pretend. 
 Thou wouldst haue markt the speaches of thy frend. 
 Who going wounded from the place, he said 
 His skinne was peirst only through my deuise; 
 And if sad sorrow taint thee for this fait, 125 
 
 Thou wouldst haue followed him, and sene him drest. 
 And cryde him mercy whome thou hast misdone: 
 Nere shall my hart be eased till this be done. 
 
 Ardefi. Content thee, sweete Ales, thou shalt haue thy wil. 
 What ere it be. For that I iniurde thee, 130 
 
 And wrongd my frend, shame scourgeth my offence; 
 Come thou thy selfe, and go along with me. 
 And be a mediator twixt vs two. 
 
 Frmicklm. Why, M. Arden! know you what you do? 
 Will you follow him that hath dishonourd you? 133 
 
 Ales. Why, canst thou prouc I haue bene disloyall? 
 
 FranckUn. Why, Mosbie taunted your husband with the horn. 
 
 Ales. I, after he had reuyled him 
 By the iniuryous name of periurdc beast: 
 
 107. Ihinkst C, ihinh Tyr. — 109. ihinksl C. — III. whill A. — 
 114. Entendest C. — T16. Div. at Ales \ in old Edd. — 137. traiint A, 
 taunt B, taunts C, taunted Del.; you A. 
 
62 
 
 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [V, I- 
 
 140 lie knew no wrong could spyte an Jelious man 
 More then the hateful! naming of the home. 
 
 Francklin. Suppose tis trew; yet is it dangerous 
 To follow him whome he hath lately hurt. 
 
 Ales. A fault confessed is more than halfe amends; 
 145 But men of such ill spirite as your selfe 
 
 Work crosses and debates twixt man and wife. 
 
 Arden. I pray thee, gentle Francklin, holde thy peace: 
 ' 1 know my wife counsels me for the best, 
 lie seek out Mosby where his wound is drest, 
 150 And salue this haples quarrell if I may. 
 
 \Exewit Arden and Ales. 
 Francklin. He whome the diuel driues must go perforce. 
 I^oorc gentleman, how sone he is^ bevvitcht ! 
 And yet, because his wife is the instrument. 
 His frends must not be lauish in their speach. [Exit Francklin 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 A street in Feversham. 
 Here enters Will, Shakbage, and Greene. 
 Will. Sirra Greene, when was I so long. in killing a man.-' 
 Greene. I think we shall neuer do it; let vs giue it ouer. 
 Shakebagge. Nay, Zounds! wele kill him, though we be hangd 
 at his dore for our labour. 
 5 Will. Thou knowest, Greene, that I haue lined in London 
 
 this twelue }eers, where 1 haue made some go vppon wodden 
 legges for taking the wall on me; dyuers with siluer noses for 
 saying ' There goes Black Will ! ' I haue crackt as many blades 
 as thou hast Nutes. 
 10 Greene. O monstrous lye! 
 
 140. an\ a C. — 146. debate betwixt C. — 147. thee"] the A. — 
 148. me om. C. — 149 — 1 50. Given to Ales in old Edd. 
 
 Act V. Scene I. Stage-dir. add. by Tyr. — 2. Div. at do it \ ABC. — 
 3 — 4. Div. at him \ labour \ ABC. — 5 — 9. Div. ■Ayeers \ legges \ me \ saying \ 
 Will I blades \ Nutes | in old Edd. — 7. o«] 0/ BC. — 9. hast done Nuts C, 
 Jac, Tj'i-., and Del. 
 
V, I.] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. - 63 
 
 Wi/l. Faith, in a manci; I haue. The bawdie-houses haue 
 paid me tribute; there durst not a whore set vp, vnlesse she 
 haue aggreed with me firs.t for opning her shoppe-windowes. 
 For a crosse worde of a Tapster I haue pearced one barrell 
 after^ another with my dager, and held him by the eares till 15 
 all his beare hath run out. In Temes-streete a brewers carle 
 was like to haue runne ouer me: I made no more ado, but 
 went to the clark and cut all the notches of his tales, and 
 beat them about his head. I and my companye haue taken 
 the Constable from his watch, and carried him about the fields 20 
 on a coltstaiTe. I haue broken a Sariants head with his own 
 mace, and baild whome I list with my sword and buckler. All 
 the tenpenny-alehouses-men would stand euery morning with 
 a quart-pot in their hand, saying, 'will it please your worship 
 drinke?' He that had not doonc so, had beene sure to haue 25 
 had his Signe puld down and his latice borne away the next 
 night. To conclude, what haue I not done? yet cannot do 
 this; doubtles, he is presented by Miracle. 
 
 Here enters Ales and Michaell. 
 
 Greene. Hence, Will! here comes M. Arden. 
 
 Aks. Ah, gentle Michaell, art thou sure thei'r frends? 30 
 
 Michaell. Why, I saw them when they bothe shoke hands. 
 When Mosbie bled, he euen wept for sorrow. 
 And raild on Francklin that was cause of all. 
 No sooner came the Surgen in at doores. 
 
 But my Master tooke to his purse and gaue him money, 35 
 
 And, to conclude, sent me to bring you word 
 That Mosbie, Francklin, Bradshaw, Adam Fowle, 
 With diuers of his neighbors and his frends. 
 Will come and sup with you at our house this night. 
 
 Ales. Ah, gentle Michaell, runne thou bak againe, 40 
 
 And, when my husband walkes into the faire, 
 
 11—28. Div. at haue \ tribute \ aggreed \ itiindowes \ Tapster \ dager \ 
 out I head \ watch \ coUstaffe \ mace \ luckier \ morning \ hand \ drinke \ had 
 his I night I this I Miracle \ in old Edd. — 15. hy'\ he ABC. —18. cut off C; 
 tallies Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 20. him ona. C. — 23, men fust add. by Jac. — 
 24. their'] his A ; hands Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 26. Sing?ie A. — 35. to om. C; 
 read But my Ma\ster took \ to 's purse |. — 39- at our house one foot. 
 
64 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [V, I. 
 
 Bid Mosbie steale from him and apme to me; 
 And this night shal thou and Susan be made sure. 
 Michaell. lie go tell him. 
 45 Ales. And as thou goest, tell John cooke of our guests, 
 
 And bid him jaj;__it_on, spare for no coast. \Exit Michaell. 
 Will. Nay, and there be such cheere, we wil bid our selues. — 
 Mistres Arden, Dick Greene and I do meane to sup with you. 
 Ales. And welcome shall you be. Ah, gentlemen, 
 50 How mist you of your purpose yesternight? 
 
 Greene. Twas long of Shakebag, that vnluckye villaine. 
 Shakebagge. Thou doest me wrong; 1 did as much as any. 
 Will. Nay then, M. Arden, He tell you how it was: 
 When he should haue lockt with both his hilts, 
 55 He in a brauery florisht ouer his head; 
 With that comes Francklin at him lustely. 
 And hurts the slaue; with that he slinks away. 
 Now his way had bene to haue come hand and feete. 
 One and two round, at his costerd: he lyke a foole 
 60 Beares his sword-point halfe a yarde out of danger. 
 I lye here for my lyfe; if the deuill come. 
 And he haue no more strength than I haue fence. 
 He shall neuer beat me from this warde, lie stand to it; 
 A buckler in a skilfuU hand 
 65 Is as good as a castell. 
 
 Nay, tis better then a sconce, for 1 have tryde it. 
 Mosbie, perceiuing this, began to faint: 
 With that comes Arden with his arming sword . 
 And thrust him through the shoulder in a tryce. 
 70 Ales. I, but I wonder why you both stoode still. 
 Will. Faith, I was so amazed, I could not strike. 
 Ales. Ah, sirs, had he yesternight bene slaine, 
 For euery drop of his detested bloode 
 I would haue cramd in Angels in thy fist, 
 75 And kist thee, too, and hugd thee in my armcs. 
 
 Will. Patient your selfe, we can not help it now. 
 
 43. Shalt C; read And \ this night \. — 47. weni C. — 48. Div. at 
 Arden \ Del. — 58— O2. Div. at costerd \ lyfe \ fence \ in old Edd. ; printed 
 as prose by Del. (58-6O). — 58. haue om. C. — 62. / haue not in Edd. — 
 74. / -would cranime A; cramvwd angels Del. — 75. mine BC. 
 
V. I.] ARDEN OF FEVERSIIAM. 65 
 
 Greene and we two will dogge him through the faire, 
 And stab him in the croud, and steale away. 
 
 Here enters Mosbye. 
 
 Ales. It is vnpossible; but here comes he 
 That will, I hope, inuent some surer means. , 80 
 
 Swete Mosbie, hide thy arme, it Idls my hart. 
 
 JMoshie. I, mistres Arden, this is your fauour. 
 
 Ales. Ah, say not so ; for when I sawe thee hurt, 
 I could haue toke the weapon thou letst fall, 
 
 And runne at Arden; for I haue sworne 85 
 
 That these mine eyes, offended with his sight, 
 Shall neuer close till Ardens be shut \p. 
 This night I rose and walkt about the chamber, 
 And twise or thrise 1 thought to haue murthred him. 
 
 Mosbie. What, in the night? then had we bene vndone. go 
 
 Ales. Why, how long sha'l he Hue? 
 
 Mosbie. Faith, Ales, no longer then this night. — 
 Black Will and Shakebag, wi'l you two performe 
 The complot that I haue laid? 
 
 Will. I, or els think me a villaine. 95 
 
 Greene. And rather then you shall want, He helpe my selfe. 
 
 J\losbie. You, M. Greene, shal single Francklin foorth, 
 And hould him with a long tale of strange newes. 
 That he may not come home till suppertime. 
 
 He fetch M. Arden home, and we like frends 100 
 
 Will play a game or two at tables here. 
 
 Ales. But what of all this? how shall he be slaine? 
 
 Mosbie. Why, Black Wil and Shakebag lockt within the 
 Shall at a certain watchword giuen rush foorth. [countinghouse 
 
 Will. What shall the watch-word be? 105 
 
 Mosbie. 'Now I take you' that shall be the word: 
 But come not forth before in any case. 
 
 Will. I warrant you. But who shall lock me in? 
 
 Ales. That will I do; thou'st kepe the key thy selfe. 
 
 <jj_g^. Div. at two I in ABC and Edd. — 95. as a A and Tyr. — 
 96. Two lines, div. at want \ in ABC. — 102. Two lines, div. at this \ in 
 ABC. — 103. Why put in a line by itself by Del. — loq. dn cm. C; thou'lt 
 C and Del. [thcJst = thou mayst). 
 
 5 
 
66 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [V, I. 
 
 * 
 
 1 10 Mosbie.:~<Z<ya\&, M.Greene, go you along with me. 
 See all things ready, Ales, against we come. 
 
 Ales. Take no care for that; send you him home, 
 
 [Exeunt Mosbie ami Greene. 
 And Ai he ere go forth againe, blame me. 
 Comcj Blacke Will, that in mine eies art faire; 
 115 Next vnto Mosbie doe I honour thee; 
 
 Instead of faire wordes and large promises 
 My hands shall play you goulden harmonic: 
 How like you this? say, will you doe it, sirs? 
 
 Will. I, and that brauely too. Marke my deuice: 
 120 Place Mosbie, being a stranger, in a chaire, 
 And let your husband sit vpon a stoole, 
 That I may come behind him cunninglie. 
 And with a towell pull him to the ground. 
 Then stab him till his flesh be as a sine; 
 125 That doone, beare him behind the Abby, 
 
 That those that finde him murthered may suppose 
 Some slaue or other kild him for his golde. 
 
 Ales. A fine deuice: you shall haue twenty pound. 
 And when he is dead, you shal haue forty more. 
 130 And, least you might be suspected staying heere, 
 Michaell shall saddle you two lusty geldings ; 
 Ryde whether you will, to Scotland, or to Wales, 
 He see you shall not lacke, where ere you be. 
 
 Will. Such wordes would make one kill 1000. men. 
 135 Giue me the key: which is the countinghouse ? 
 
 Ales. Here would I stay and still encourage you. 
 But that I know how resolute you are. 
 
 Shakebagge. Tush, you are too faint-harted ; we must do it. 
 Ales. But Mosbie will be there, whose very lookes 
 140 Will ad vnwounted courage to my thought, 
 
 And make me the first that shall aduenture on him. 
 
 Will. Tush, get you gone ; tis we must do the deede. 
 When this doore oppcns next, looke for his death. 
 
 \Exeunt Will and Shakebag. 
 
 114. my C. — 124. Mv. Bullen reads by mistake him fine till; sine A. — 
 130. Read And \ least yoii \. — 1 41. Read And \ make me \. — 143. Stage- 
 dir. wanting in Edd. 
 
V, I.J ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 67 
 
 A/es. Ah, would he now were here that it might oppen ! 
 I shall no more be closed in Ardens amies, 145 
 
 That lyke the snakes of blacke Tisiphone 
 Sting me with their embraceings : Mosbies Armes 
 Shal compasse me, and, were I made a starre, 
 I would haue none other spheres but those. 
 
 There is no nector but in Mosbies lypes! 150 
 
 Had chast Diana Idst him, she like me 
 Would grow loue-sicke and from her watrie bower 
 Fling down Endimion and snatch him vp: 
 Then blame not me that slay a silly man 
 Not halfe so lonely as Endimion. 155 
 
 Here enters Michaell. 
 
 Michaell. Mistres, my maister is comming hard by. 
 
 Ales. Who comes with him? 
 
 Michaell. Nobody but Mosbye. 
 
 Ales. Thats well, Michaell. Fetch in the tables. 
 And when thou hast done, stand before the countinghouse-doore. 1 60 
 
 Michaell. Why so? 
 
 Ales. Black Will is lockt within to do the deede. 
 
 Michaell. What? shall he die to night? 
 
 Ales. I, Michaell. 
 
 Michaell. But shall not Susan know it? 165 
 
 Ales. Yes, for shele be as secreete as our selues. 
 
 Michaell. Thats braue. He go fetch the tables. 
 
 Ales. But, Michael], hearke to me a word or two : 
 When my husband is come in, lock the streete-doore ; 
 He shall be murthred, or the guests come in. \ExH Michaell. 170 
 
 Here enters Arden and Mosbie. 
 Husband, what meane you to bring Mosby home? 
 Although I wisht you to be reconciled, 
 Twas more for fearc of you then loue of him. 
 Black Will and Greene are his companions, 
 And they are cutters, and may cut you shorte: 175 
 
 147. embracing Del. — 150. Nectar C. — 153. snatti A. —^ 155. New 
 scene in Tyr., stage-dir. A room in Arden's House. — 167. Read / will. — 
 170. or'] ere C, or e'er Jac., Tyr., and Del. — 1 72. AlthougJit A. 
 
 5* 
 
68 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [V, I. 
 
 Therefore I thought it good to make you frends. 
 But wherefore do you bring him hether now? 
 You have giuen me my supper with his sight. 
 
 Mosbie. M. Arden, me thinks your wife would haue me gone. 
 1 80 Arden. No, good M. Mosbie ; women will be prating. 
 Ales, bid him welcome ; he and I are frends. 
 
 Ales. You may inforce me to it, if _you will; 
 But I had rather die then bid him welcome. 
 His company hath purchest me ill frends, 
 185 And therefore wil I nere frequent it more. 
 
 Mosbie. — Oh, how cunningly she can dissemble! 
 Arden. Now he is here, you wil not serue me so. 
 Ales. I pray you be not angree or displeased ; 
 He bid him welcome, seeing youle haue it so. 
 1 90 You are welcoine, M. Mosbie ; will you ^sit down ? 
 
 Mosbie. I know I am welcome to your louing husband ; 
 But for your selfe, you speake not from your hart. 
 Ales. And if I do not, sir, think I haue cause. 
 Mosbie. Pardon me, M. Arden ; He away. 
 195 Arden. No, good M. Mosbie. 
 
 Ales. We shal haue guests enough, thogh you go hence. 
 Mosbie. I pray you, M. Arden, let me go. 
 Arden. I pray thee, Mosbie, let her prate her fill. 
 Ales. The dores are open, sir, you may be gone. 
 200 Michaell. — Nay, thats a lye, for I haue lockt the dores. 
 Arden. Sirra, fetch me a cup of Wine, He make them freends. 
 And, gentle M. Ales, seeing you are so stout, 
 You shal beginne : frowne not. He haue it so. 
 
 Ales. I pray you meddle with that you haue to do. 
 205 Arden. Why, Ales! how can I do too much for him 
 Whose lyfe I haue endaungered without cause? 
 
 Ales. Tis true ; and, seeing twas partly through my means, 
 I am content to drinke to him for this once. 
 Here, M. Mosbie! and I pray you, henceforth 
 210 Be you as straunge to me as I to you. 
 
 Your company hath purchased me ill freends. 
 
 180. f ratling BC. — 201. Two lines in ABC, div. at Wine 
 210. Be as C. 
 
V, I.] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAJI. 69 
 
 And I for you, God knowes, haue vndeserued 
 
 Beene ill spoken of in euery place; 
 
 Therefore heiicefoorth frequent my house no more. 
 
 Mosbie. lie see your husband in dispight of you. 215 
 
 Yet, Arden, I protest to thee by heauen. 
 Thou nere shalt see me more after this night, 
 lie go to Roome rather then be forsworne. 
 
 ArJiu. Tush, lie haue no such vowes made in my house. 
 
 Aks. Yes, 1 pray you, husband, let him sweare; 220 
 
 And, on that condition, Mosbie, pledge me here. 
 
 JJosiie. 1, as willingly as 1 meane to Hue. 
 
 Arden. Come, Ales, is our supper ready yet? 
 
 A/cs. It will by then you haue plaid a game at tables. 
 
 Ardtii. Come, M. Mosbie, what shall we play for? 225 
 
 Jfosbie. Three games for a french crowne, sir, and please you. 
 
 Arden. Content. 
 
 Then they play at the tables. Enter Will and Shakebag. 
 Will. — Can he not take him )et? what a spight is that? 
 
 Ales. — Not yet, Will ; take hede he see thee not. 
 Will. — 1 feare he will spy me as I am coming. 230 
 
 Hfichaell. — To preuent that, creepe betwi.xt my legs. 
 
 Alosbie. One ace, or els I lose the game. 
 
 Arden. IMary, sir, theres two for fayling . 
 
 Mosbie. Ah, !M. Arden, 'now 1 can take you.' 
 
 Then Will pulles him doivn ~<cith a towell. 
 
 Arden. Mosbie! Michaell! Ales! what will you do? 235 
 
 Will. Nothing but take }ou vp, sir, nothing els. 
 
 Mosbie. Thers for the pressing Iron you tould me of. 
 
 \Stabs him.'\ 
 
 Shakebagge. And ther's for the ten pound in my sleeue. 
 
 \_Stabs him.] 
 
 Ales. What! grones thou? nay, then giue me the weapon! 
 
 Take this for hindring Mosbies loue and mine. [She stabs hitn.] 240 
 
 Michaell. O, Mistres ! 
 
 Will. Ah, that villaine wil betray vs all. 
 
 Mosbie. Tush, feare him not; he will be secrete. 
 
 220. Read Ves \ I pray \. — 221. Read And \ on that \ ; Mosbie om. C. — 
 228. yet om. C. — 230. espy Tyr. — 237seqq. SUge-dir. add. by Tyr. — 
 239. gronest C. 
 
70 
 
 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [V, I. 
 
 Michael!. Why, dost thou think I will betray my selfe? 
 245 Shakebagge. In Southwarke dvvels a bonniu northerne lasse, 
 The widow Chambley; ile to her house now, 
 And if she will not giue me harborough, 
 Ile make bootie of the queane euen to her smocke. 
 
 Will. Shift for your selues ; we two will leaue you now. 
 250 Ales. First lay the bodie in the countinghouse. 
 
 Then they lay the body in ihe Countinghouse. 
 Will. We haue our gould; mistris Ales, adew; 
 Mosbie, farewell, and Michaell, farewell too. \Exeuni. 
 
 Enter Susan. 
 Susan. Mistres, the guests are at the doores. 
 Hearken, they knocke : what, shall I let them in ? 
 255 Ales. Mosbie, go thou and beare them companie. 
 
 [Exit MosBiii. 
 And, Susan, fetch water and wash away this bloode. 
 
 Susani The bloode cleaueth to the ground and will not out. 
 Ales. But with my nailes ile scrape away the blood ; — 
 / The more I striue, the more the blood appeares ! 
 260 Susan. Whats the reason, M., can you tell? 
 
 Ales. Because I blush not at my husbands death. 
 
 Here enters Mosbie. 
 Mosbie. How now? whats the matter? is all well? 
 Ales. I, wel, if Arden were aliue againe. 
 In vaine we striue, for here his blood remains. 
 265 Mosbie. Why, strew rushes on it, can you not? 
 This wench doth nothing: fall vnto the worke. 
 Ales. Twas thou that made rnejnurther him. 
 Mosbie. What of that ? 
 
 Ales. Nay, nothing, Mosbie, so it be not known. 
 270 Mosbie. Keepe thou it close, and tis vnpossible. 
 
 Ales. Ah, but I can not! was he not slaine by me? 
 My husbands death torments me at the hart. 
 
 Mosbie. It shall not long torment thee, gentle Ales; 
 I am thy husband, thinke no more of him. 
 
 256. this'] the Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 267. madest C. 
 
^' '•] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 71 
 
 Here enters Adam Fowle and Bkadshaw. 
 
 Bradshaw. How now, M. Arden? what ayle you wcepc ? 275 
 I\losbie. Because her husband is abroad so late. 
 A cupple of Ruffins threatned him yesternight, 
 And she, poore soule, is aflraid he should be hurt. 
 Adam. 1st nothing els? tush, hele be here anone. 
 
 Here enters Greene. 
 Greene. Now, M. Arden, lacke you any guests? 280 
 
 Ales. Ah, M. Greene, did you se my husband lately? 
 Greene. I saw him walking behinde the Abby euen now. 
 
 Here enters Francklin. 
 
 Ales. I do not like this being out so late. — ■ 
 M. Francklin, where did you leaue my husband? 
 
 Francklin. Beleeue me I saw him not since Morning. 285 
 
 Feare you not, hele come anone ; meane time 
 You may do well to bid his guests sit down. 
 
 Ales. I, so they shall ; M. Bradshaw, sit you there ; 
 I pray you, be content. He haue my will. ,' 
 M. Mosbie, sit you in my husbands seat. - 290 
 
 Michaell. — Susan, shall thou and I wait on them? 
 Or, and thou saist the word, let vs sit down too. 
 
 Susan. — Peace, we haue other matters now in hand. 
 I feare me, Michaell, al wilbe bewraied. 
 
 Michaell. — Tush, so it be knowne that 1 shal marry thee 295 
 In the Morning, I care not though I be hangde ere night. 
 But to preuent the worst. He by some rats-bane. 
 
 Susan. — Why, Michael, wilt thou poyson thy selfe? 
 
 Michaell. — No, but my mistres, for I feare shele tell. 
 
 Susan. — Tush, Michel ; feare not her, she's wise enough. 300 
 
 Mosbie. — Sirra Michell, giues a cup of beare. — 
 M. Arden, heers to your husband. 
 
 Ales. My husband! 
 
 Francklin. What ailes you, woman, to eric so suddenly ? 
 
 278. she"] the BiiUen (by mistake). — 282. Read 'kimif. — 294. letray'd 
 Tyr. — 295 — 297. Printed as prose by Del. — 301. giues, i. e. g'iue us, as 
 mod. Edd. print 
 
72 
 
 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [V, 
 
 305 Aies. Ah, neighbors, a sudden qualm came ouer ray hart; 
 My husband being foorth torments my mynde. 
 I know some thing's amisse, he is not well; 
 Or els I should haue heard of him ere now. 
 
 Mosbie. — She will vnda vs through her foolishnes. 
 310 Greene. Feare not, M. Arden, he's well enough. 
 Ales. Tell not me; I know he is not well: 
 He was not wount for to stay thus late. 
 Good M. Francklin, go and seeke him foorth, 
 And if you finde him, send him home to mee, 
 315 And tell him what a feare he hath put me in. 
 
 Francklin. — 1 lyke not this; I pray God all be well, 
 lie seeke him out, and find him if I can. 
 
 [Exeunt Fr \NCKLIN, MosBiii, and Gkeene. 
 Ales. — Michaell, how shall I doo to rid the rest away? 
 Michaell. — Leaue that to my charge, let me alone. 
 320 Tis very late, M. Bradshaw, 
 
 And there are many false knaues abroad. 
 And you haue many narrow lanes to pas. 
 
 Bradshaw. Faith, frend Michaell, and thou saicst trew. 
 Therefore I pray thee lights foorth and lends a linck. 
 
 \Exeunt Bradshaw, Adam, and Michaell. 
 325 Ales. Michael, bring them to the dores, but doo not stay; 
 You know I do not loue to be alone. 
 — Go, Susan, and bid thy brother come : 
 But wherefore should he come? Heere is nought but feare; 
 Stay, Susan, stay, and helpe to counsell me. 
 330 Susan. Alas, I counsell! feare frights away my wits. 
 
 Then they open the countinghouse-doore and looke vppon Arden. 
 Ales. See, Susan, where thy quandam Maister lyes, 
 Sweete Arden, smeard in bloode and filthy gore. 
 
 Susan. My brother, you, and I shall rue this deede. 
 Ales. Come, Susan, help to lift his body forth, 
 335 And let our salt teares be his obsequies. 
 
 306. husband's Del.; deiiis- A. — 321. false may be considered as a 
 disyllable. — 322. narrow om. C. — 324. Read lifftit us. — 328. Here's C. — 
 331. Quondam C. — lyi. filtjiy om. BC. 
 
V, I.J ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 
 
 73 
 
 Here enters MoSME and Greene. 
 
 Mosbie. How now, Ales, whether will you beare him? 
 
 Ales. Sweete Mosbie, art thou come? Then wecpe that will : 
 1 haue my wishe in that I ioy thy sight. 
 
 Greene. Well, it houes vs to be circumspect. 
 
 JSloshie. I, for Franckhn thinks that we haue murthred him. 340 
 
 Ales. I, but he can not proue it for his lyfe. 
 Wele spend this night in daliance and in sport. 
 
 Here enters Michaell. 
 
 JMichaell. O mistres, the Maior and all the watch 
 Are comming towards our house with glaues and billes. 
 
 Ales. ]\Iake the dore fast; let them not come in. 345 
 
 Mosbie. Tell me, swete Ales, how shal I escape ? 
 
 Ales. Out at the back-dore, ouer the pyle of woode, 
 And for one night ly at the Flour-de-Luce. 
 
 Moshie. That is the next way to betray my selfe. 
 
 Greene. Alas, IM. Arden, the watch will take me here, 350 
 
 ■And cause suspition, where els would be none. 
 
 Ales. Why, take that way that RI. Mosbie dooth ; 
 But first conuey the body to the fields. 
 
 Then they beare the body into the fields. 
 
 Mosbie. Vntil to morrow, sweete Ales, now farewel : 
 And see you confesse nothing in any case. 355 
 
 Greene. Be resolute, M. Ales, betray vs not, 
 But cleaue to vs as we wil stick to you. 
 
 \_Exeiint IMosBiE and Greene. 
 
 Ales. Now, let the iudge and iuries do their worst: 
 My house is cleare, and now I feare them not. 
 
 Susan. As we went, it snowed al the way, 360 
 
 Which makes me feare our footesteps will be spyed. 
 
 Ales. Peace, foole, the snow wil couer them againe. 
 
 Susan. But it had done before we came back againe. 
 
 Ales. Hearke, hearke, they knocke ! go, Michaell, let them in. 
 
 337. Two lines, div. at co?ne \ ABC. — 339. behoves Del.; us for to 
 Tyr. — 343. atl om. C. — 363. Read 'fore. — 364. Two lines, div. at 
 linoette \ ABC. 
 
74 
 
 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [V, 
 
 Here enters the Maior and the Watch. 
 365 How now, M. Maior, haue you brought my husband home? 
 Maior. I sawe him come into your house an hour agoe. 
 Ales. You are deceiued ; it was a Londoner. 
 Maior. Mistress Arden, know you not one that is called 
 
 [Blacke Will? 
 Ales. I know none such : what meane these questions ? 
 370 Maior. I haue the counsels warrand to aprehend him. 
 Ales. - — I am glad it is no worse. 
 Why, M. maior, thinke you I harbour any such? 
 
 jMaior. We are informd that here he is ; 
 And therefore pardon vs, for we must search. 
 375 Ales. I, search, and spare you not, through euery roome: 
 Were my husband at home, you would not offer this. 
 
 Here enters Francklin. 
 M. Francklin, what meane you come so sad? 
 
 Francklin. Arden, thy husband and my freend, is slaine. 
 Ales. Ah! by whome? M. Francklin, can you tell? 
 380 Francklin. I know not; but behind the abby 
 There he lyes murthred in most pittious case. 
 Maior. But, M. Francklin, are you sure tis he? 
 Francklin. 1 am too sure ; would God 1 were deceiued. 
 Ales. Finde out the Murthrers, let them be knowne. 
 385 Francklin. I, so they shall; come you along with vs. 
 Ales. Wherefore ? 
 
 Francklin. Know you this handtowel and this knyfe? 
 Susan. — Ah, Michael, through this thy negligence 
 Thou hast betraied and vndone vs all. 
 3go Michacll. — I was so afifraide I knew not what I did: 
 I thought I had throwne them both into the well. 
 Ales. It is the pigs bloode we had to supper. 
 But wherefore stay you? finde out the murthrers. 
 
 Maior. I feare me youle proue one of them your selfe. 
 395 Ales. I one of them? what meane such questions? 
 
 Francklin. I feare me he was murthred in this house 
 And carried to the fields; for from that place 
 
 365. M. om. Del. — 368. Div. at one \ in old Edd. — l%2. you om. C. — 
 384. Murthrers is to be read as a trisyllable. 
 
V, 2.] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 75 
 
 Backwards and forwards may you see 
 
 The print of many fecte within the snow. 
 
 And looke about this chamber where we are, 400 
 
 And you shall finde part of his giltles bloodo ; 
 
 For in his slipshoe did I finde some rushes, 
 
 Which argueth he was murthred in this roomc. 
 
 Maior. Looke in the place where he was wont to sit. 
 See, see! his blood! it is too manifest. 405 
 
 Ales. It is a cup of wine that Michaell shed. 
 
 Michael!. I, truely. 
 
 Francklin. It is his bloode, which, strumpet, thou hast shed. 
 But if I Hue, thou and thy complices 
 Which haue conspired and wrought his death shall rue it. 410 
 
 Ales. Ah, M. Francklin, God and heauen can tell 
 I loued him more than all the world beside. 
 But bring me to him, let me see his body. 
 
 Francklin. Bring that villaine and Mosbies sister loo ; 
 And one of you go to the Flowre-de-Luce, 415 
 
 And seeke for Mosbie, and apprehend him to. \Kxcuni. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 An obscure street in London. 
 
 Here enters Shakebag solus. 
 Shakebagge. The widdow Chambly in her husbands dayes I kept; 
 And now he's dead, she is growne so stout 
 She will not know her ould companions. 
 I came thither, thinking to haue had harbour 
 
 As I was wount, 5 
 
 And she was ready to thrust me out at doores; 
 But whether she would or no, I got me vp, 
 And as she followed me, I spurnd her down the stairs. 
 And broke her neck, and cut her tapsters throat, 
 And now I am going to fling them in the Temes. lo 
 
 I haue the gould; what care I though it be knowne! 
 lie crosse the water and take sanctuary. [Exit. 
 
 410. Two lines, div. at death j in old Edd. — 416. to cm. Jac, Tyr., and Del. 
 
 Scene II. SLage-dir. add. by Tyr. — 1—2. Div. at ,luys \ by Del. — 
 2. has Tyr. — 4—5. Div. at had \ in old Edd., corr. by Del. — 7. gof] goe 
 C, Jac. and Tyr. — 8. sfurd C. 
 
76 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. [V, 3. 4. 
 
 SCENE HI. 
 
 Arden's House at Feuersham. 
 
 Here enters the Maior, Mosbie, Ales, Francklin, Michaell, 
 
 and Susan. 
 
 Maior. See, M. Arden, where your husband lyes; 
 
 Confesse this foule fault and be penitent. 
 
 Ales. Arden, sweete husband, what shall I say? 
 The more I sound his name, the more he bleedes; 
 5 This bloode condemnes me, and in gushing foorth 
 Speakes as it falies, and askes me why I did it. 
 Forgiue me, Arden: I repent me nowe, 
 And, would my death saue thine, thou shouldst not dye. 
 Ryse vp, swete Arden, and enioy thy loue, 
 10 And frowne not on me when we mete in heauen: 
 ' In heauen I'll loue thee, though on earth I did not. 
 Maior. Say, Mosby, what made thee murther him? 
 Francldin. Study not for an answer ; lookc not down : 
 His pursse and girdle found at thy beds head 
 15 Witnes sufficiently thou didst the deede ; 
 It booties is to sweare thou didst it not. 
 
 Mosbie. I hyred Black Will and Shakebagge, Ruffynes both. 
 And they and I haue done this murthrous deed. 
 But wherefore stay we ? Come and beare me hence. 
 20 Francldin. Those Ruffins shall not escape; I will vp to London, 
 And get the counsels warrand to apprehend them. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 The Kentish Coast. 
 Here enters Will. 
 Will. Shakebag, 1 heare, hath taken sanctuary, 
 But I am so pursued with hues and cryes 
 For petty robberies that I haue done. 
 That I can come vnto no Sanctuary. 
 
 Scene III. Stage-dir. add. by Tyr. — 11. /'//] /'ABC, corr. by Tyr. 
 — 19. Two lines, div. at vse \ in old Edd.. — 19. Come'\ Command Jac, 
 Tyr., and Del. — 20—21. Two lines, div. at escape \ ABC; vp om. C, Jac, 
 Tyr., and Del. 
 
 Scene IV. Stage-dir. add. by Tyr. 
 
V, 5-] ARDEN OF FEVERSIIAM. 
 
 77 
 
 Therefore must I in some Oystcr-bote 5 
 
 At last be faine to go a boord some rio)'o, 
 
 And so to Flushing-. There is no staying here. 
 
 At Sittinburgh the watch was like to take me, 
 
 And had not I with my buckler couerd my head, 
 
 And run full blanck at all aduentures, 10 
 
 I am sure I had nere gone further then that place ; 
 
 For the Constable had 20 warrands to apprehend me, 
 
 Besides that, I robbed him and his Man once at Gades hill. 
 
 Farewell, England ; He to Flushing now. [Exit Will. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 Jtislicc-Room at Feuersham. 
 
 Here enters the Maior, Mosrye, Ales, M(Chaf.ll, Susan, 
 
 and Bradshaw. 
 
 Maior. Come, make haste and bring away the prisoners. 
 
 Bradshaw. M. Arden, you are now going to God, 
 And I am by the law condemned to die 
 About a letter I brought from M. Greene. 
 
 I pray you, M. Arden, speak the trueth : 3 
 
 Was I euer priuie to your intent or no. 
 
 Ales. What should I say? You brought me such a letter. 
 But I dare sweare thou knewest not the contents. 
 Leaue now to trouble me with worldly things. 
 
 And let me meditate vpon my sauiour Christ, 10 
 
 Whose bloode must saue me for the bloode I shed. 
 
 Mosbie. How long shall I Hue in this hell of griefe ? 
 Convey me from the presence of that strumpet. 
 
 Ales. Ah, but for thee I had neuer beene a strumpet. 
 What can not oathes and protestations doe, 15 
 
 When men haue opportynity to woe ? 
 
 5. Read There \ fore must \. — 8. Sittinghurg C, Sittinghurn Jac, Tyr., 
 and Del. — 10. ran Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 12. Read For tlie Con \ stable \ 
 had twen \ ty warrands \ Vapprehend \ me\. — 13. Read 'Sides that j 
 
 Scene V. Stage-dir. add. by Tyr. — 6. Read IVas I \ e'er pri\vy 
 to your [. — 7- Two lines in old Edd. — 14. a first add. by Jac. — 
 16. woo C. 
 
78 ARDEN OF FEVER SHAM. [V, 6. 
 
 I was toe young to sound thy villanies, 
 But now I finde it and repent too late. 
 
 Susan. Ah, gentle brother, wherefore should I die? 
 20 I knew not of it till the deed was don. 
 
 Mosbie. For thee I mourne more then for my selfe ; 
 But let it suffice, I can not saue thee now. 
 
 Michaell. And if your brother and my Mistres 
 Had not promised me you in marriage, 
 25 I had nere giuen consent to this foule deede. 
 
 Maior. Leaue to accuse each other now. 
 And listen to the sentence I shall giue: 
 Beare Mosbie and his sister to London straight. 
 Where they in Smithfield must be executed; 
 30 Beare M. Arden vnto Canterburye, 
 
 Where her sentence is she must be burnt ; 
 
 Michaell and Bradshaw in Feuershame must suffer death. 
 
 . Ales. Let my death make amends for all my sinnes. 
 
 Mosbie. Fy vpon women! this shall be my song; 
 35 But beare me hence, for I haue lined to long. 
 
 Susan. Seing no hope on earth, in heauen is my hope. 
 
 Michaell. Faith, I care not, seeing I die with Susan. 
 
 Bradshaw. My bloode be on his head that gaue the sentence. 
 
 Rlaicir. To speedy execution with them all ! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 Heje enters Fkancklin.. 
 Francklin. Thus haue you seene the trueth of Ardens death. 
 As for the Ruffins, Shakbag and Blacke Will, 
 The one tooke Sanctuary, and, being sent for out. 
 Was murthred in Southwark as he past 
 5 To Greenewitch, where the Lord Protector lay. 
 Black Will was burnt in Flushing on a stage ; 
 Greene was hanged at Osbridge in Kent; 
 
 21. mourne to be pronounced as a disyllable. — 22. But om. Jac, 
 Tyr., and Del. — 25. never BC. — 31. Where as Jac, Tyr., Del.; cp. ad. 
 1. 21. — 32. Two lines, div. at Fevenham \ Del. — 33. sinne C, Jac, Tyr., 
 and Del. — 38. that'\ who Del. 
 
 Scene VI. 6. at a stake Jac, Tyr., and Del. — 7. Osbringe Jac. and 
 Tyr., Ospring Del. 
 
V, 6.] ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM. 79 
 
 The Painter fled and how he dyed we know not. 
 
 But this aboue the rest is to be noted : 
 
 Arden lay muithred in that plot of ground lo 
 
 Which he by force and violence held from Rede ; 
 
 And in the grasse his bodyes print was seene 
 
 Two yeeres and more after the deede was done. 
 
 Gentlemen, we hope youle pardon this naked Tragedy, 
 
 Wherin no filed points are foisted in 1 5 
 
 To make it gratious to the eare or eye; 
 
 For simple trueth is gratious enough, 
 
 And needes no other points of glosing stuffe. [Exit. 
 
 The End. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 2. 'And here we see a sign of the times, for it was land 
 once appertaining to Feversham Abbe}' that Greene lost and Arden 
 got, the Protector Somerset, like the late most dread sovereign 
 Henry, bestowing liberally to others, both goods and lands, that 
 never lawfully were his to have, to hold and give to others.' 
 Donne, 1. c, p. 8. 
 V 42. planchers, i. e. planks, floor. 
 
 50. as securely, i. e. as if thou wert quite secure. Cp. II. 2. 203 
 as vnsuspecled. 
 
 52. Tieck: 
 
 ' Ein Weil) vergehi sich nicht, Idsst man sie frei. 
 Dock silndigt leicht, wird sie zii streng gehalle?!.' 
 
 60. Cp. Ov. Amor. 1. I. 13: 
 
 Jam super oceanum venit a seniore marih 
 
 Flava pruinoso quae vehit axe diem. 
 Quo proper as Aurora? 
 9 Q1C0 proper as, ingraia viris, ingraia puellis? 
 Roscida purpurea supprime lor a manu! 
 35 Tiihono vellem de te narrare liceret: 
 
 Femina non caelo turpior ulla foret. 
 Ilium dum refugis longe, quia grandior aevo, 
 
 Surgis ad invisas a sene mane rotas. 
 Al si, quem malis, Cephalum coniplexa ieneres. 
 Clamor es 'lente cur rite, noctis equi.^ 
 gg. Tieck: 
 
 'Doch jener hat den Zwang nur als sein Recht, 
 Dass mich der Ehestand mil ihm verhunden' 
 ■^ 105. Floiver-de-Luce, 'an inn, formerly situated in Abbey Street, 
 nearly opposite Arden's house'. Donne. 
 
 j' 151. sure, i. e. betrothed. Cp. Wiv. V. 5. 237: she and I are 
 now so sure that nothing can dissolve us. 
 
 154. On tapestry-hangings very often some love-story was re- 
 presented, generally in eight divisions or fields, and with some 
 
^"^^ 1-] NOTES. 8 1 
 
 explanatory verses at the bottom. Cp. Moliere, I'Avare II. i: wie 
 tenlure de iapisserie des amours de Gomhaud et de Made. 
 
 167. 'It was popularly supposed that a virgin might save a 
 criminal from the gallows by offering to marry him.' liullen. 
 Mr. BuUen, besides, refers to a Note in his edition of Marston 111. 
 iqo — 191. 
 
 174. Boltoji, 'Boughton, looking down on Canterbury.' Donne. 
 
 1/^97- Cp. these hvo have liced me hither to this place Tit. 11. 3. 92. 
 
 214. As the sailor must listen to the Mermaid's song, and 
 
 the traveller must look at the Basilisk, so I must listen to thy 
 
 words and must be reconciled to thee, though knowing that it 
 
 will be my overthrow. 
 
 252. Tieck: 
 
 'Denn ivie scharfsinn'ge Dichter, deren Lieder 
 Von ihrevi Nectarmahl die Gutter locken, 
 Dass sie ihr Ohr herah zur Erde neigen, 
 Der heil'gen Mus' in Demuth viel geloben.' 
 
 301. Tieck: 
 
 'Mosbie, rvas jene Lander eien betrifft, 
 Mein sind sie durch des Kiinigs Brief und Siegel. 
 Doch fehlt fiiir noch ein Schutzbrief fiir mein Weib, 
 Man sagt, ihr wollt mir ihre Liebe rauben.' 
 
 312. The statute makes against artificers. '37 Edward III. c. 9. 
 Bullen. 
 
 y^ 314. Your Spanish needle. 'The making of Spanish needles 
 was first taught in England by Elias Crowse a Germane about 
 the eight yeere of Queene Elizabeth, and in Queen Maries time 
 there was a Negro made fine Spanish Needles in Cheaper side, 
 but would never teach his Art to any.' Bullen, quoted from 
 Howe's Stowe, 1631, p. 1038. 
 
 315. I warrant that I take it from you. 
 \/ 383. Methridate, an antidote against poison, so called from 
 Mithridates, King of Pontus, the supposed inventor. 
 y 422. goodly, used ironically, as often in Shakespeare. 
 y^ 466. the lands are his in state, i. e. he possesses them for life. 
 Tieck: ^die Giiter sind sein eigen.' 
 
 523. to wager seems to have been possessed of the meaning 
 v^ 'to pay wages'. Cp. the use of wage a) = to bet, b) •= to pay 
 wages to, to remunerate: he waged me with his countenattce, as if I 
 had been mercenary Cor. V. 6. 40, 41. Abundance of treasure which 
 he had in store whereivith he might ivage soldiers Holinshed (qu. by 
 Webster). 
 
 546. Cp. to be in books (i. e. memorandum-book), i. e. to be 
 in favour: the gentleman is not in your books Ado I. i. 79; a herald, 
 Kate! O put me in thy books Shr. II. 225. 
 
 6 
 
82 NOTES. [Ad li. 111. 
 
 548. Though we have met with no other instance for the 
 / substantive gree = agreement, yet it seems not necessary to alter 
 the reading of the old Edd. The verb gree = agree (i. 571) is 
 often used by Shakespeare. 
 597. Tieck: 
 
 'Der Maler mischt die Farhen nach dem Leben, 
 Jm Lieben malt sein Pinsel keinen Schatten.' 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 1. 52. Cp. Jew of Malta: 
 
 He sent a shaggy tottered staring slave, 
 That 7vhen he speaks draws out his grisly beard. 
 And ivinds it twice or thrice about his ear ; 
 Whose face has been a grindstone for mens words ! 
 
 Qu. by Bullen, Introd., p. XIV. 
 ^y^ I. 54. watchet, pale or light blue; watchet mantle Spenser (not 
 Shak.). 
 
 ib. all to, altogether; cp. Abbott, Sh. Gr., s. 436 (not Shak.). 
 
 \/ 1. 56. seam-rent, i. e. torn at the seams, poor, ragged, seam- 
 rent fellows Ben Jonson (not Shak.). 
 (Z' I. 96. platforme, plan, scheme; cp. lay new platforms to en- 
 damage them I H. VI., II. I. 77. 
 ^ I. III. bate, i. e. bait, to take a portion of food and drink 
 for refreshment on a journey. 'My Lord's coach conveyed ine to 
 Bury, and thence baiting at Newmarket.' Evelyn, qu. by Webster. 
 
 2. 29. Tieck: 
 
 'Noch um dein Leben schretb ihr eine Zeile' 
 ^ 2. 51. ould, copious, plentiful; cp. here 'nil be an old abusing 
 of God's patience Wiv. I. 4. 5 ; yonder's old coil at hand Ado V. 2. q8. 
 y^ 2. 63. cou7iter, name of a prison in London. Cp. 'she sent 
 eight shillings by her vian, in a violet coat, to Anne Aysvugh, when 
 imprisoned in the Counter' Fuller. 
 
 2. 67. Tieck, like Delius, attributes this line to Greene; but 
 we can hardly suppose that Greene would continue, as he does, 
 / met him and Francklin going merrily to the ordinarye. 
 
 2. 82. Omittance is no quittance As III. 5. 133. 
 / 2. 96. quarterige, i. e. quarterly allowance. 
 1/^ 2. no. staruen, i.e. starved, hungry. Cp. thy desires are wol- 
 vish, bloody, starved, and ravenous Merch. IV. I. 138. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 / 1.5. cooch, i. e. couch = spread. Cp. the expression couch 
 -grass, a species of grass which extends rapidly its roots and is 
 
Act III.] NOTES. 83 
 
 very noisome to fields. — Delius' conjecture has been taken from 
 Tieck's translation: 
 
 'Die mil dem scharfen Worl den Ruf versliimmeln, 
 Uiid Schande ernten, ivic nur Schand' enlspriessl.' 
 I. 13. plemsht, i. e. replenisht; perishl is doubtless a mistake. 
 I. ig. Cp. there is suck confusion in m_y poivers Merch. HI. 
 2. 179, sorrow and grief have vanquished all my powers 2 H. \'I., 
 II. I. 183. Tieck: 'Bricht Herzensqual all nieine Lebenskrdfk! 
 
 I. 45. ir/y are thine lycs fix'd to the stdlen earth 2 H. VI., I. 2. 5; 
 like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth Sonn. 29, 12, 13. 
 ^ I- 73- holstred haire, cp. Mob. IV. i. 123 blood-boltered, i.e. 
 having the hair clotted with blood. 
 y-^ I. 76. Cp. a pack of blessings Rom. III. 3. 141. 
 
 1. 92. Tieck: 
 
 '■ISlich an die Stufen auf der Schwelle lehnte.' 
 y^ 2. 2. Cp. 7i'heu snow the pasture sheets Ant. I. 4. 65. 
 
 2. 8. watch, 'the time of night as forming part of the day' 
 Al. Schmidt, Shakespeare -Lexicon, s. v.; cp. at this odd-even and 
 dull -watch 0' the night Oth. I. I. 124. 
 
 2. 13. Specde to my wish, i. e. ill may speed. 
 
 2. 18. A precisian is well described by Harington, Epig. I. 20: 
 The man, affrighted at this apparition, 
 Upon recovery gre~<v a great precisian. 
 He bought a bible of the new translation. 
 And in his life he sheio'd great reformation, 
 Pie walked mannerly, and talked meekly. 
 He heard three lectures, and t'wo sermons -weekly. 
 He vo~w'd to shun all companies unruly, 
 And in his speech he used no oath but truly; 
 .Ind zealously to keep the sabbath's rest. 
 His meat for that day on the cv'n -was drest. 
 
 (Qu. by Nares). 
 
 ^(2. 41. coistrell, a mean paltry fellow. It occurs also Tw. I. 3. 43, 
 Per. IV. 6. 176. 
 
 V 2. 47. cock-shut light, 'twilight, the time when the net, termed 
 a cock-shut, was spread for snaring woodcocks.' Bullen. 
 
 2. 62. Cp. prick-eared cur of Iceland H. V., II. i. 44. 
 </ 3- 13' foster, i.e. forester. 
 
 ^ 3. 30. impression, form, figure. Cp. an unlicked bear-~whelp that 
 carries no impression like the dam 3 H. VI., III. 2. 161, 162. 
 
 3. 40. Cp. using those thoughts -which should indeed have died 
 Mcb. III. 2. 10. 
 
 , 4, 18. Rainum Down. 'The country near Rainham seems in 
 the sixteenth century to have been so open as to have entitled it 
 
 6* 
 
84 NOTES. [Aci III. 
 
 to the appellation of a Down. In Shakespearian times this spot had 
 a very bad reputation.' Donne. 
 
 4. 21. nor. Though we can give no other instance of the 
 use of nor after a comparative, yet there seems to be no reason 
 to introduce /Acin as modern Edd. have done. Cp. the French 
 construction // esi plus riche he ne k penses; and the German Scheide 
 dich nicht von einer vernunfligen und frommen Frau; denn sie isl edler 
 weder kein Gold Sirach "j. zi. 
 
 ^ 4-25. Salutation, an inn in London, mentioned in Ben Jonson's 
 Bartholomew Fayre. 
 
 5. 3seqq. Tieck: 
 
 • 'VerstSrtes Sinnen treibt niich fort von Menschen, 
 Und dorret mir das Mark in wachem Grubeln; 
 Besidnd'ge Unruh meines finstern Geistes 
 Schwdcht mir durch Uebermass des Weins den Leib, 
 Und macht mich krank, wie scharfer Nordostwind 
 Des Friihlings zarte Bliiten Irifft mit Frost.' 
 V 5- 1 7- stary. Though siirry is not given in the dictionaries, 
 
 there is little doubt that it is to be coiisidered as another form 
 for stirring. 
 
 5. 51. It is very difficult to hit at the right word for the 
 ■ senseless pathaires. As deep-fet airs, introduced by Delius, does not 
 give a tolerable sense, we have preferred to print deep-fet sighs 
 (cp. deepfet groans 2 H. VI., II. 4. t^-^, though we are well aware 
 that sighs is not consistent with the ductus lilterarum. Also Tieck 
 translates: 'So tiefe Seufzer.' 
 
 y- 5. 85. Forslowde, i. e. delayed. C^. forsloiv no longer 3 H. VI., 
 II. 3- 56. 
 
 5. 92. Cp. hoiv are they wrapped in with infamy Lucr. 636, 
 / am wrapped in dismal thinkings All's V. 3. 128. 
 
 5. 116. Mr. BuUen puts a stop behind use, the sense being: 
 'in which I am used to read'(?). It seems, however, better to join 
 use with the holy word. Tieck: 
 
 'Das Andachlsbuch verbrenn' ich wo ich las 
 Die heil'gen Worte, die mich bekehrten.' 
 5. 118. Tieck: 
 
 'Sieh, Mosbie, sieh, die Blatter reiss' ich aus, 
 fa, all die Blatter, dass im goldnen Bande 
 Nur deine siissen Wort' und Briefe wohmi.' 
 
 5. 131. thy good terms, i. e. the good terms which thou hast 
 received from me. 
 
 5- ^ZZ- The quarrel which arose between us, has not yet 
 thickened to so thick and impenetrable a fence as to separate us 
 for ever. 
 
^ct IV.] NOTES. 85 
 
 5. 142. falloiv land, i. e. untilled land; the subst. fallow in 
 the same sense occurs twice in Shakespeare. 
 
 5. 157. A strange mistake of the author. Greene gave Brad- 
 shawe the letter, when he went up to London, not after having 
 been in London. Cp. II. i. 
 
 y^ t). 9. dagge, i. e. pistol. See Nares s. v. 
 •-^6. 20. muscado, i. e. musket, it. moscheito. 
 
 ^.^ 6. 26. 'Jack of Feuersham, probably a well-known coward, 
 Raw tricks of these bragging facks Merch. III. 4.' Donne. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 1. 17. Tieck: 
 
 'Mir fehll Jcr Wert, ivenn dir nicht guter Wille.' 
 
 y^ I- 45- ^o^g home. Cp. those that I bring unto their latest home 
 Tit. I. 83. Delius reads to a long home; but perhaps Long-ho?ne 
 or Long-holme was a name of some locality. At any rate, a quibble 
 of home and holm (a river-isle) is intended. Tieck: 'Sie wcrden 
 euch Fahrlaile fiir die lange Reise scin.' 
 
 t^ I. 56. Lordain. ' Lourden was a term for a clownish idle 
 person, Fr. lourdin.' Bullen. 
 
 ,^-- I. 77- brable, to contest noisily. 
 
 y^ I. 100. asunder. We have no other instance of the use of 
 the verb asunder. 
 
 2. 6. Tieck: 
 
 'Dcr Xebel kann, mein Freund, benebeln; 
 Er raucht ivie eines Triinkenboldes Hir7i, 
 Das er in krafVgcs Bier am Abend tauchte' 
 
 2. 21. fasting, i.e. before breakfast. Cp. she is not to be kissed 
 fasting Gentl. III. i. 326. Tieck: 
 
 ' Umsonst nur ist der Tod. 
 
 So niichtern wie ich bin, erfahrt ihr''s nicht! 
 
 3. 8. play ivith a ivench a potfinger.Q) Tieck: 
 
 'Oder ?nit eincr Dime Versteck zu spiele/i.' 
 y"^ 3. 35. to hough, to Cut the sinews of the ham. — Hock 
 Monday. ' The holiday, called Hock Monday, or Hoke day was 
 usually observed on the day following the second Sunday after 
 Easter day. John Rouse, or Ross, the historian of Warwickshire, 
 in which county the holiday was in the sixteenth and seventeenth 
 centuries (if not later) duly observed, says that on high or holy 
 Monday, the people, both men and women, divided into parties, 
 used to hold a rope across the road, barring the way and pulling 
 to them the passers by who were obliged to pay a toll, the sum 
 of which was supposed to be applied to pious uses.' Donne. 
 
86 NOTES. [Act V. 
 
 3. 60. The sense is: Do not care for me; I shall do it. 
 Tieck: 'Lass/ mir die Sorge: mich heiriffCs zunachst.' 
 
 3. 68. Cp. brave thee! ay, .. .. and beard thee too 2 II. VI., IV. I O. 40. 
 
 3. 73. Tieck: 
 
 ' Ein feiner Anschlag, der 'nen Kiiss verdient.' 
 
 4. 2. Johnson explains liberal: frank beyond honesty or decency. 
 Tieck: 'Zu weit isi sein Gcivissen, er zu geizig.' 
 
 4. 4. Shtcrland is in the isle of Sheppey. , 
 ^/' 4. 24. day, i. e. time. Cp. these seven years' day 2 H. VI., II. i. 2. 
 4. 8g. Tieck: 
 
 ' Dich zu hegriissen, war der Scherz erdacht.' 
 ^ 4. 104. to linck, used intransitively; cp. / were loath to linli 
 with him that were not laivful chosen 3 H. VI., III. 3. 113; to link in 
 liking, to link in love I H. VI., V. 5. 76. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 ■/ I. 18. notches of his tales, i. e. notches of his tallies. 
 f/ I. 21. coltstaffe, i.e. colstaff, a staff for carrying burdens for 
 two persons on their shoulders. 
 
 v^ I. 46. lay it on, to fall to work with might and main, to do 
 one's best. Cp. niy father hath made her mistress of the feast, and 
 she lays it on Wint. IV. 3. 43. 
 
 ^^ 1. 68. arming sword, a strong two-handed sword. In the 
 ballad of Mary Ambree we are told 
 
 'A helmet of proof she straight did provide, 
 A strong arming-sword she girt by her side' Bullen. 
 I. g6. Rather than you, Mr. Mosbie, and Mrs. Arden shall 
 see your wishes frustrated, I will kill Arden myself. 
 //i. 202. stout, proud, overbearing; cp. V. 2. 2. 
 ^ I. 232. for fay ling, i. e. that I may lose. Tieck: 
 
 ' Seht, euch zum Besten da der schlecht'ste Wurf.' 
 4. 5. 'The Dutch give a preference to those oysters of the 
 Feversham grounds before all others along this coast.' Donne. 
 6. 7. Ospridge in Kent. Ospringe "adjoins Feversham. 
 6. i4seqq. Tieck: 
 
 ' Verzeihung diesem ungeschickten Wcrk, 
 In das nichts Fein-Erdachtes eingeschoben, 
 Fiir Aug' tend Ohr es reizend zu bereiten: 
 Einfache Wahrheit mag wohl Zier vcrleihn 
 Auch ohne der Erfindung falschen Schein.' 
 
 Ehrh. Karras, Printer, Halle. 
 
Aus dem Verlage von MAX NIE MEYER in Halle. 
 
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