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in the middle cutteth off his tale,

      Pouring fresh sorrow on his weary limbs.

      So woe-begone, so inly charged with woe,

      Was never any lived and bare it so.

      (here enters MICHAEL

      MICHAEL

      My master would desire you come to bed.

      FRANKLIN

      Is he himself already in his bed?

      (Exit FRANKLIN

      Manet MICHAEL

      MICHAEL

      He is, and fain would have the light away.

      Conflicting thoughts, encamped in my breast,

      Awake me with the echo of their strokes,

      And i, a judge to censure either side,

      Can give to neither wished victory.

      Staring and grinning in thy gentle face,

      And in their ruthless hands their daggers drawn,

      Insulting o’er there with a peck of oaths,

      Whilst thou submissive, pleading for relief,

      Art mangled by their ireful instruments.

      Me thinks I hear them ask where Michael is,

      And pitiless Black Will cries: ‘stab the slave!

      The peasant will detect the tragedy!’

      The wrinkles in his foul death threat’ning face

      Gape open wide, like graves to swallow men.

      My death to him is but a merriment,

      And he will murder me to make him sport.

      He comes, he comes! Ah, master Franklin, help!

      Call up the neighbors, or we are but dead!

      (here Enter Franklin and ARDEN

      Fran. What dismal outcry calls me from my rest?

      ARDEN

      What hath occasioned such a fearful cry?

      speak, Michael: hath any injured thee?

      MICHAEL

      Nothing, sir; but as I fell asleep,

      Upon the threshold leaning to the stairs,

      I had a fearful dream that troubled me,

      And in my slumber thought I was beset

      With murderer thieves that came to rifle me.

      My trembling joints witness my inward fear:

      I crave your pardons for disturbing you.

      What? Are the doors fast locked and all things safe?

      MICHAEL

      I cannot tell; I think I locked the doors.

      ARDEN

      I like not this, but I’ll go see myself. -

      Ne’er trust me but the doors were all unlocked.

      This negligence not half contenteth me.

      Get you to bed, and if you love my favor,

      Let me have no more such pranks as these.

      Come, master Franklin, let us go to bed.

      FRANKLIN

      Ay, by my faith; the air is very cold. (Exeunt.

      Michael, farewell; I pray thee dream no more.

      (here Enter Will, Greene, and SHAKEBAG

      SHAKEBAG

      Black night hath hid the pleasures of the day,

      And sheeting darkness overhangs the earth,

      And with the black fold of her cloudy robe

      Obscures us from the eyesight of the world,

      In which sweet silence such as we triumph.

      The lazy minutes linger on their time,

      Loth to give due audit to the hour,

      Till in the watch our purpose be complete

      And Arden sent to everlasting night.

      Greene, get you gone, and linger here about,

      And at some hour hence come to us again,

      Where we will give you instance of his death.

      GREENE

      Speed to my wish, whose will so e’er says no;

      And so I’ll leave you for an hour or two. (Exit GREENE

      WILL

      I tell thee, Shakebag, would this thery were done,

      I am so heavy that I can scarce go;

      This drowsiness in me bodes little good.

      SHAKEBAG

      How now, Will? Become a precisian?

      Nay, then let’s go sleep, when bugs and fears

      Shall kill our courages with their fancy’s work.

      WILL

      Why, Shakebag, thou mistakes me much,

      And wrongs me too in telling me of fear.

      Were’t not a serious thing we go about,

      It should be slipt till I had fought with thee,

      To let thee know I am no coward, I.

      I tell thee, Shakebag, thou abusest me.

      SHAKEBAG

      Why, thy speech bewrayed an inly kind of fear,

      And savored of a weak relenting spirit.

      And afterwards attempt me when thou darest.

      WILL

      And if I do not, heaven cut me off!

      But let that pass, and show me to this have,

      Where thou shalt see I’ll do as much as SHAKEBAG

      SHAKEBAG

      This is the door; but soft, me thinks ‘tis shut.

      The villain Michael hath deceived us.

      WILL

      Soft, let me see, Shakebag; ‘tis shut indeed.

      Knock with thy sword, perhaps the slave will hear.

      SHAKEBAG

      It will not be; the white livered peasant is gone to bed

      And laughs us both to scorn.

      WILL

      And he shall ‘by his merriment as dear

      As ever coistril bought so little sport:

      Ne’er let this sword assist me when I need,

      But rust and canker after I have sworn,

      And trample on it for this villainy.

      SHAKEBAG

      And let me never draw a sword again,

      Nor prosper in the twilight, cockshut light,

      When I would fleece the wealthy passenger,

      But lie and languish in a loathsome den,

      Hated and spit at by the goers-by.

      And in that death may die, nnpitied.

      If I the next time that I meet the slave,

      Cut

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