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livery cloak, but all the lace was off;

      ‘twas bad, but yet it served to hide the plate.

      WILL

      Sirrah Shakebag, canst thou remember

      Since we trolled the bowl at sittingburgh

      Where I broke the tapster’s head of the lion

      With a cudgel-stick?

      SHAKEBAG

      Ay, very well, WILL

      WILL

      Why, it was with the money that the plate was sold for.

      Sirrah Bradshow, what wilt thou give him

      That can tell thee who sold thy plate?

      BRADSHAW

      Who, I pray thee, good Will?

      WILL

      Why, ‘twas one jack fitten.

      He’s now in newgate for stealing a horse,

      And shall be arraigned the next ‘size.

      For I’ll back and tell him who robbed him of his plate.

      This cheers my heart; master Greene, I’ll leave you,

      For I must to the isle of sheppy with speed.

      GREENE

      Before you go, let me intreat you

      To carry this letter to mistress Arden of feversham,

      And humbly recommend me to her self.

      BRADSHAW

      That will i, master Greene, and so farewell.

      Here, Will, there’s a crown for thy good news. (Exit BRADSHAW

      WILL

      Farewell, Bradshaw,

      I’ll drink no water for thy sake whilst this lasts.

      Now gentlemen, shall we have your company to London?

      GREENE

      Nay, stay, sirs: a little more I needs must use your help,

      And in a matter of great consequence,

      Wherein if you’ll be secret and profound,

      I’ll give you twenty angels for your pains.

      WILL

      How? Twenty angels? Give my fellow

      George Shakebag and me twenty angels?

      And if thou’lt have thy own father slain,

      That thou may’st inherit his land, we’ll kill him.

      SHAKEBAG

      Ay, thy mother, thy sister, thy

      With mighty furrows in his stormy brows;

      GREENE

      Well, this it is: Arden of feversham

      Hath highly wronged me about the abbey land,

      That no revenge but death will serve the turn.

      Will you two kill him? Here’s the angels down,

      And I will lay the platform of his death.

      WILL

      Plat me no platforms; give me the money

      And I’ll stab him as he stands pissing against a wall,

      But I’ll kill him.

      SHAKEBAG

      Where is he?

      GREENE

      He is now at London, in aldersgate street.

      SHAKEBAG

      He’s dead as if he had been condemned

      by an act of parliament, if once Black Will and i

      Swear his death.

      GREENE

      Here is ten pound, and when he is dead,

      Ye shall have twenty more.

      WILL

      My fingers itch to be at the peasant.

      Ah, that I might be set a work thus through the year

      And that murder would grow to an occupation,

      That a man might, without danger of law,

      Come, let us be going, and we’ll bate at rochester,

      Where I’ll give thee a gallon of sack,

      To handsel the match with all. (Exeunt. Here enters MICHAEL

      MICHAEL

      I have gotten such a letter,

      As will touch the painter: and thus it is…

      (here Enter Arden and Franklin and hear Michael read this letter.

      ‘my duty remembered, mistress Susan, hoping in god you be in

      Good health, as i, Michael was at the making hereof. This is to

      Certify you that as the turtle true, when she hath lost her mate,

      Sitteth alone so i, mourning for your absence, do walk up and down

      Paul’s till one day I fell asleep and lost my master’s pantofles.

      Ah, mistress Susan, abolish that paltry painter, cut him off by the

      Shins with a frowning look of your crabbed countenance, and think

      And do ye slack his business for your own?

      ARDEN

      Where is the letter, sirrah? Let me see it.

      (then he gives him the letter.

      See, master Franklin, here’s proper stuff:

      Susan my maid, the painter, and my man,

      A crew of harlots, all in love, forsooth;

      Sirrah, let me hear no more of this,

      Nor for thy life once write to her a word.

      (here Enter Greene, Will, and SHAKEBAG

      Wilt thou be married to so base a trull?

      ‘tis Mosbie’s sister: come I once at home,

      I’ll rouse her from remaining in my house.

      Now, master Franklin, let us go walk in paul’s,

      Come but a turn or two, and then away. (Exeunt.

      GREENE

      The first is Arden, and that’s his man.

      The other is Franklin, Arden’s dearest friend.

      WILL

      Zounds, I’ll kill them all three.

      GREENE

      Hay, sirs, touch not his man in any case,

      But stand close, and take you fittest standing,

      And at his coming forth, speed him:

      To the nag’s head, there’s this coward’s haunt.

      SHAKEBAG

      If he be not paid his own, ne’er trust SHAKEBAG

      WILL

      Sirrah Shakebag, at his coming forth

      I’ll run him through, and then to the blackfriars,

      And there take water and away.

      SHAKEBAG

      Why, that’s the best; but see thou miss him not.

      WILL

      How

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