University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The Street.
Green. Mosby.
Gr.
You pity me, and know not my estate.
I'm ruin'd, Mosby, thoughtless and ill-advised,
My riotous youth will leave my age a beggar.
These abbey-lands were all the hopes I'd left;
My whole support.

Mos.
Base and ungen'rous Arden,
To force a man, born equal to himself,
To beg, or starve.

Gr.
By heaven, I will do neither:
I'll let the proud oppressor know—

Mos.
How blind is rage!
Who threats his enemy, lends him a sword
To guard himself.—

Gr.
Robb'd of the means of life,
What's life itself? an useless load, a curse:
Which yet I'll dearly sell to my revenge.

Mos.
You mean to kill him then?

Gr.
I do, by heaven.

Mos.
Suppose you fail—

Gr.
I can but lose my life.

Mos.
Then where is your revenge, when he, secure,
Riots unbounded in his ill-got wealth?

Gr.
What can I do?

Mos.
'Tis plain you wish him dead.

Gr.
Each moment of his life is to my soul
A tedious age of pain; for while he lives,
Contempt and all the ills a lazar knows,
Must be my wretched lot, and lengthen out
The miserable hours. What groveling wretch
Wou'd wish to hold his life on such conditions?

Mos.
But change the scene: suppose but Arden dead,
Your land restor'd, and fortune in your pow'r;
Honour, respect, and all the dear delights
That wait on wealth, shall wing the joyful hours,
And life contracted seem one happy day.
I hate this Arden, and have stronger motives
Than any you can urge to wish his death;
He has accus'd, insulted, struck me,
Nay, his fair, virtuous wife, on my account—

Gr.
If fame speaks true, you're to be envy'd there.

Mos.
The world will talk—But be that as it may:
I want not cause, nor will, not means, nor friends—

Gr.
Nor opportunity shall long be wanting.

Mos.
Enough: his fate is fixt—See! Bradshaw's here.

Enter Bradshaw.
Brad.
Save, save you, gentlemen.

Mos.
We thank you, neighbour.
But whither in such haste?

Brad.
To the isle of Shippey,
To wait on good lord Cheyney. As he holds
In high esteem our worthy townsman Arden,
I shall first call on him.—'Tis well I met you,
For yonder two were but bad road-companions.

Gr.
They seem of desp'rate fortunes.

Mos.
Have they names?

Brad.
One I know not: But judge him from his comrade.
The foremost of the two I knew at Boulogne,
Where in the late king's reign I serv'd myself.
He was a corporal then, but such a villain—
Beneath a soldier's name.—A common cut-throat,
That preys on all mankind, and knows no party.

Mos.
An horrid character you give him, Bradshaw.

Brad.
No worse than he deserves.

Mos.
[Aside]
(An useful hint:
He shall not want employment:) What's his name?

Brad., Black Will.
His family-name I never heard.

Mos.
[To Green.]
A word—write you a letter to Alicia:
Disguise your hand.—This honest fool may bear it.
Hint at these men.—In case her courage sail,
She will be glad to shift the deed on them.

Gr.
I am instructed.

Enter Black Will and Shakebag.
B. Will.

What, comrade Bradshaw! How fare
you, man? S'blood! dost not remember honest
Black Will? Why, thou'rt grown purse proud
sure.

Brad.

Why you're not easily forgotten, Will.
But, prithee, what brings thee to Feversham?

B. Will.

A soldier, you know, is at home
wherever he comes. Omne solum forti patria.
There's Latin—Give's a tester.

Brad.

In time of peace we should apply to some
honest creditable business, and not turn the name
of soldier into vagabond.

B. Will.

Yes, as you have done. I'm told, you
keep a goldsmith's shop here in Feversham, and,

like a mechanical rogue, live by cheating. I have
more honour.

Brad.

Wou'd thou had'st honesty.

B. Will.

Where do our honesties differ? I take
a purse behind an hedge, and you behind a counter.

Brad.

Insolent slave!

B. Will.

You cent. per cent. rascal! I may find a
time to teach you better manners.

Brad.

Go, mend thy own.

B. Will.

Thou wert always a sneaking fellow,
Bradshaw, and cou'dst never swear, nor get drunk.
Come, shall I and my comrade Shakebag taste your
ale?

Brad.
My house entertains no such guests.
Farewel, gentlemen.

Mos.
Along with Bradshaw,
And leave the management of these to me.

[Aside to Green.
Gr.
It shall be done.—Bradshaw, a word with thee.

Brad.
Your pardon, gentlemen.

[Exeunt Green and Bradshaw.
B. Will.

He was a cadet in the last French war,
like other soldiers then; but now he has got a nest,
and feather'd it a little, he pretends to reputation.
S'blood! had this been a fit place, he had not scap'd
me so. You have survey'd us well. [To Mosby]

How do you like us?

Mos.
Methinks I read truth, prudence, secrecy,
And courage writ upon your manly brows.

B. Will.

What hellish villany has this fellow in
hand, that makes him fawn upon us?

[Aside.
Mos.
I fear the world's a stranger to your merit.
If this may recommend me to your friendship—

[Gives a purse.
B. Will.
Of what damn'd deed is this to be the wages?

Shake.
Hast ever an elder brother's throat to cut?

B. Will.
Or an old peevish father to be buried?

Mos.
Neither of these.

Shake.
A rival then mayhap—

Mos.
There you come nearer to me.

Shake.
Then speak out.
We're honest, sir.

B. Will.
Trusty, and very poor.

Mos.
Metal too fit for me. [Aside.]
Then hear me, sir.—
But you must both, ere I disclose my purpose,
Promise and bind that promise by your oaths—
Never— [They both laugh.]
Why this unseasonable mirth?

B. Will.
You'd have us swear?—

Mos.
Else why did I propose it?

B. Will.

There's the jest. Are men who act
in despite of all law, honour, and conscience; who
live by blood (as it is plain you think we do); are
we free-thinkers, like silly wenches and canting
priests to be confin'd by oaths?

Shake.

Wou'd you bind us, let the price equal
the purchase, and we'll go to hell for you with
pleasure.

Mos.
Horrid! they shock ev'n me who wou'd employ 'em.
[Aside.
I apprehend—The business then is this:
In Feversham there lives a man, call'd Arden;
In general esteem, and ample means;
And has a wife, the very pride of nature.
I have been happy long in her affections,
And, he once dead, might with her share his fortunes.
He's jealous too of late, and threatens me.
Love, int'rest, self-defence, all ask his death.—

B. Will.
This man you'd have dispatch'd?

Mos.
I wou'd.

B. Will.
Rich, you say?

Mos.
Immensely so.

B. Will.
And much belov'd?

Mos.
By all degrees of men.

B. Will.
George! this will be a dang'rous piece of work.

Shake.

Damn'd dangerous. A man so known;
and of his reputation too.

B. Will.

And then the pow'r and number of his
friends must be consider'd.

Mos.

What! does your courage shrink already, sirs?

Shake.

No.

B. Will.

This is ever the curse of your men of
true valour; to be the tools of crafty cowardly
knaves, who have not the heart to execute what
their heads have projected. It is a damn'd ungrateful
world—What money have you more about
you?

Mos.
Ten pieces.

B. Will.
I've had as much for stealing a dog.

Mos.
I give you that as a retaining fee:
When the deed's done, each shall have twice that sum,
And a good horse to further his escape.

B. Will.
Sir, will you have him murder'd in a church?

Shake.
Or on the altar; say the word, and it shall be done.

Mos.
Some safer place, the street, highway, or fields
Will serve my turn as well.

Shake.
Just as you please.

Mos.
Where may I find you, gentlemen?

B. Will.
At Adam Fowl's, the Flower-de-luce.

Mos.
I have confederates in this design;
When w'have contriv'd the manner of his death,
I'll send you word.

B. Will.
You'll find us always ready.

Mos.
And determined?

B. Will.
Ay, fear it not. Farewel.

[Exeunt several ways.