University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

The street. People at a distance as at a Fair.
Enter Arden on one side, and Black Will and Shakebag on the other, Green directing them.
B. Will.

Shakebag, you'll second me—S'blood,
give the way.

[Jostles Arden.
Shake.

May we not pass the streets?

Ard.

I saw you not.

B. Will.

Your sight perhaps is bad, your feeling
may be better.

[Strikes him.
Ard.
Insolent villains!

[Draws.
B. Will.
Come, we'll teach you manners.

Ard.
Both at once! barb'rous cowards!

Enter Mosby.
Mos.
O bloody dogs! attempt a life so precious!—

B. Will.
This is a fury, George.

[Black Will. and Shakebag beaten off.
Shake.
—I've pink'd him tho'—

Ard.
Villains come back, and finish your design.

Mos.
Shall I pursue them, sir?

Ard.
Not for the world—
Mosby! amazing generosity!

Mos.
I hope you are not hurt.

Ard.
Pierc'd to the heart—

Mos.
Forbid it, heaven! quick, let me fly for help.

Ard.
With sharp reflexion:—Mosby, I can't bear
To be so far oblig'd to one I've wrong'd.

Mos.
Who wou'd not venture life to save a friend?

Ard.
From you I've not deserv'd that tender name.

Mos.
No more of that—wou'd I were worthy of it!

Ard.
I own my heart, by boiling passions torn,
Forgets its gentleness—yet is ever open
To melting gratitude. O say what price
Can buy your friendship?

Mos.
—Only think me yours.

Ard.
Easy indeed. I am too much oblig'd.
Why reek'd not your good sword its justice on me,
When mad with jealous rage, in my own house,
I urg'd you to my ruin?

Mos.
—I lov'd you then
With the same warmth as now.

Ard.
—What's here! you bleed.
Let me bind up your wound.

Mos.
—A trifle, sir—

Ard.
Your friendship makes it so.—See, Franklin, see
[Enter Franklin.]
The man I treated as a coward, bleeding,
(Wretch that I am!) for his defence of me.
Look to your wound. And, Mosby, let us hope
You'll sup with me. There will be honest Bradshaw,
And Franklin here, and—

Mos.
Sir, I will not fail.

Frank.
I shall not come.

Ard.
—Nay, Franklin, that's unkind.
Prithee—

Frank.
Nay, urge me not.—I have my reasons.

Mos.
Avoids my company!—So much the better.
His may not be so proper. [Aside]
—An hour hence,
If you are not engag'd, we'll meet at Fowl's.

Ard.
I will be there.

Mos.
'Till then I take my leave.
[Exit. Mosby.

Ard.
How have I been mistaken in this man?

Frank.
How are you sure, you're not mistaken now?

Ard.
No doubt he loves me; and I blush to think
How I've suspected him, and wrong'd Alicia.

Frank.
May you be ever happy in you wife:
But—

Ard.
Speak—But what? Let's have no riddles here.
Can she be innocent, and Mosby guilty?

Frank.
To speak my thoughts, this new officious fondness
Makes me suspect:—I like him worse than ever.

Ard.
Because I like him better. What a churl!

Frank.
You're credulous, and treat my serious doubts
With too much levity. You vex me, Arden.

[Exit.
Ard.
Believe me, friend, you'll laugh at this hereafter.

[Exit the other way.
Mosby, having watch'd Franklin out, re-enters with Green.
Mos.
The surly friend has left him—As I wish'd—
You see how eagerly the foolish fowl
Flies headlong to our snare: now to inclose him.
At eight the guests are bidden to his banquet,
And only Michael, of his numerous train,
Keeps home with his Alicia. He'll secure
The keys of all the doors, and let you in
With my two trusty blood-hounds. Alicia seems
Averse at present—

Gr.
She'll not dare betray us.

Mos.
Not when the deed is done. We know too much.
She'll be our prisoner, and shall be observ'd.
Towards evening, then, upon a slight pretence
To pass an hour at draughts, (a game he loves)
I'll draw this husband home. You'll be prepar'd
In th'inner room, (Michael will shew it you)
'Till at a signal given, you all rush forth,
And strangle him.

Gr.
Good—'tis a death that leaves
No bloody character to mark the place.

Mos.
Howe'er, come all provided with your daggers.
Do you seek Michael, I'll instruct the rest.

Gr.
What shall the signal be?

Mos.
—These words in th'game,
I take you now.

Gr.
—Arden! thou'rt taken now indeed.

Mos.
His body, thrown behind the abbey-wall,
Shall be descried by th'early passenger
Returning from the Fair.—My friend, thy hand—
Shakes it?—Be firm, and our united strength
With ease shall cast dead Arden to the earth.

Gr.
Thanks to his foolish tenderness of soul.

Mos.
True, he who trusts an old invet'rate foe,
Bares his own breast, and courts the fatal blow.