Page:The Lamentable and True Tragedie of M. Arden of Feversham in Kent (1592).pdf/11

 How now Michaell, whether are you going?

Michael. To fetch my masters nagge, I hope youle thinke on mee.

Ales. I But Michaell see yon keepe your oath, And be as secret, as you are resolute.

Michaell. Ile see he shall not liue aboue a weeke.

Ales. On that condition Michaell here is my hand None shall haue Mosbies sister but thy selfe.

Michaell. I vnderstand the Painter heere hard by, Hath made reporte that he and Sue is sure.

Ales. There's no such matter Michaell beleeue it not,

Michael. 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, 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: Ile send from London such a taunting letter, As shall eat the hart he sent with salt. And fling the dagger at the Painters head.

Ales. What needes all this, I say that Susan's thine

Michaell. Why then I say that I will kill my master Or any thing that you will haue me doo.

Ales. But Michaell see you doo it cunningly.

Michaell. Why, say I should be tooke, ile nere confesse, That you know any thing, and Susan being a Maide, May begge me from the gallous of the Shriefe.

Ales. Truste not to that Michaell.

Michaell. You can not tell me, I haue seene it I, But mistres tell her whether I liue or die. Ile 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. Who would not venture vpon house and land? When he may haue it for a right downe blowe. Here