Page:The Lamentable and True Tragedie of M. Arden of Feversham in Kent (1592).pdf/50

 Ard. I beseech your honor pardon me. I haue made a promise to a gentle man, My honest freend to meete him at my house, The occasion is great, or els would I wait on you.

Lord C. Will you come to morrow & 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,

Lord C. One of you staye my horse at the top of the hil What black Will, for whose purse wait you? Thou wilt be hanged in Kent, when all is done.

Wil. Not hanged, God saue your honor. I am your bedesman, bound to pray for you,

Lord C. 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. Come M. Arden let vs be going, Youre way and mine lyes foure myle togeather.

Wil. The Deuill break all your necks, at 4 myles end, Zounds I could kill my selfe for very anger. His Lordship chops me in, euen when My dagge was leaueld at his hart. I would his crowne were molten down his throat,

Sha. Arden thou hast wondrous holye luck, Did euer man escape as thou hast done. Well Ile discharge my pistoll at the skye, For by this bullet Arden might not die.

Gre. What is he down, is he dispatcht?

Sha. I in health towards Feuershame, to shame vs all

Gre. The Deuill he is, why sirs how escapt he?

shak When we were ready to shoote, Comes my Lord Cheiny to preuent his death.