ARDEN

Franklin thy love prolongs my weary life, And but for thee, how odious were this life: That shows me nothing but torments my soul, And those foul objects that offend mine eyes, Which makes me wish that for this vale of Heaven, The earth hung over my heed and covered me. Love letters passed betwixt Mosbie and my Wife, And they have privy meetings in the Town: Nay on his finger did I spy the Ring, Which at our Marriage day the Priest put on, Can any grief be half so great as this? I but to dote on such a one as he Is monstrous Franklin, and intolerable. A Butcher and no better at the first, Who by base brocage, getting some small stock: Crept into service of a noble man: And by his servile flattery and fawning, Is now become the steward of his house, And bravely sets it in his silken gown. Yes, the Lord Clifford, he that loves not me, But through his favour let not him grow proud, For were he by the Lord Protector backed, He should not make me to be pointed at, I am by birth a gentle man of blood, And that injurious riball that attempts, To vyolate my deer wives chastity, (For deer I hold his love, as deer as heaven) Shall on the bed which he thinks to defile, See his dissevered joints and sinews torn, Whilst on the planchers, pants his weary body, Smeard in the channels of his lustful blood. Though this abhors from reason yet isle try it And call her forth, and presently take leave: How Ales, I but you started up, and suddenly In steed of him: caught me about the neck. Nay love there is no credit in a dream, Let it suffice I know thou love me well. I know it did, and therefore let it pass, I must to London sweet Ales presently. No longer there till my affairs be done, I cannot long be from thee gentle Ales, Whilst, Michel fetch our horses from the field, Franklin and I will down unto the key: For I have certain goods there to unload, Meanwhile prepare our breakfast gentle Ales, For yet ere noon wele take horse and away, Mosby at question wele decide anon, Ales make ready my ekfast, I must hence. Exit Ales. As for the lands mosbie they are mine, By letters patents from his Majesty: But I must have a Mandat for my wife, They say you seek to rob me of her love, Villain what makes thou in her company, She's no companion for so base a groom. So sirrah, you may not wear a sword, The statute makes against artificers, I warrant that I do, now use your bodkin, Your spanish needle, and your pressing Iron, For this shall go with me, and mark my words, You goodman butcher, 'tis to you I speak, The next time that I take thee near my house, In steed of Legs I'll make thee crawl on stumps. Be patient sweet love, I mistrust not Thee, Loath am I to depart, yet I must go, I'll write unto thee every other side, And so farewell sweet Ales till we meet next. No Mosbie no, hereafter think of me, As of your dearest friend, and so farewell. No Franklin no, if fear or stormy threats, If love of me, or care of womanhood, If fear of God, or common speech of men, Who mangle credit with their wounding words, And cooch dishonour, as dishonour buds. Might soyne repentance in her wanton thoughts, No question then but she would turn the lease, And sorrow for her dissolution. But she is rooted in her wickedness Perverse and stobburne, not to be reclaimde, Good counsel is to her as rain to weeds And reprehension makes her vice to grow, As Hydra's head that perished by decay. Her faults me think are painted in my face. For every searching eye to over reed. And Mosbies name, a scandal unto mine. Is deeply trenched in my blushing brow. Ah Franklin Franklin, when I think on this, My hearts greese rends my other powers, Worse then the conflict at the hour of death. Come M. Franklin onward with your tale, Tomorrow wele wait upon your honour, Content thee sweet Ales thou shalt have thy will What ere it be, For that I iniurde thee And wronged my friend, shame scourges my offence, Come thou thy self and go along with me, And be a mediator betwixt us two. No good M. Mosbie, women will be prating, Ales bid him welcome, he and I are friends. Sweet love thou knowest that we two Ovid Like Have often chid the morning, when it gan to peep, And often wished that dark nights purblind steeds, Would pull her by the purple mantle back: And cast her in the Ocean to her love. But this night sweet Ales thou hast killed my heart, I herd thee call on Mosbie in thy sleep. Mosbie with these thy protestations, The deadly hatred of my heart is appealed, And thou and I'll be Friends, if this prove true. As for the base terms I gave thee late, Forget them Mosbie, I had cause to speak: When all the Knights and gentlemen of Kenned, Make common table talk of her and Thee. Forbear it, nay rather frequent it more. The world shall see that I distrust her not, To warn him on the sudden from my house, Were too confirm the rumour that is grown. And I will lie at London all this term, To let them see how light I weigh their words. Come M. Mosbie will you fit with us, Sirrah Michael see our horse be ready. I am not well, the something in this broth That is not wholesome, didst thou make it Ales? Why gentle mistress Ales, cannot I be ill, But yowl accuse your self. Franckline thou haste a box of Methridate, I'll take a little to prevent the worst. I know it sweet Ales, cease to complain: Least that in fears I answer thee again. Why you paltry knave, Stand you here loitering, knowing my affairs, What haste my business craves to send to Kenned? Where is the letter sirrah, let me see it, Then he gives him the letter. See master Franklin, heres 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. Now for thy life, once write to her a word, Here enters Green, Will, and Shakebag, Wilt thou be married to so base a trull. 'Tis Mosbies sister, come I once at home, I'll rouse her from remaining in my house: Now M. Franklin let us go walk in Pauls, Come, but a turn or two and then away, Exeunt. What trublesome fray or mutany is this? If nothing else? come Franklin let us away. Exeunt My house is irksome, there I cannot rest. Then that base Mosbie does usurp my room, And makes his triumph of my being thence. At home, or not at home, where ere I be. Here here it lies, ah Franklin here it lies, That will not out till wretched Arden die. What a Clock is't sirrah? See see how runs away the weary time, Come M. Franklin, shall we go to bed. What hath occasioned such a fearful cry? Speak Michael, hath any iniurde Thee? So great a cry for nothing, I never herd. What, are the doors fast locked? and all things safe? I Like not this, but I'll go see my self, Near trust me, but the doors were all unlocked. This negligence not halse contents me. Get you to bed, and if you love my favour, Let me have no more such pranks as these Come M. Franklin, let us go to bed. Sirrah get you back to billensgate, And learn what time the tide will serve our turn, Come to us in Pauls, first go make the bed, And afterwards go harken for the flood. Exit Michael. Come M. Franklin, you shall go with me. This night I dreamed that being in a park, A toil was picht to overthrow the deer, And I upon a little rising hill, Stood whistely watching for the herds approach, Even there me thoughts a gentle slumber took me, And sommond all my parts to sweet repose. But in the pleasure of this golden rest, And ill thewd foster had removed the toil, And rounded me with that beguiling home, Which late me thought was pitched to cast the deer, With that he blue and evil sounding horn, And at the noise and other herd man came: With Falchion drawn, and bent it at my breast. Crying aloud thou art the game we seek, With this I waked, and trembled every joint, Like one obscured in a little bush, That sees a lion foraging about, And when the dreadful forest King is gone, He pries about, with timorous suspects Throughout the thorny casements of the brake, And will not think his person daungerles. But quakes and showers though the cause be gone. So trust me Franklin when I did awake, I stood in doubt whither I waked or no: Such great impression took this sond surprise: God grant this vision bedeeme me any good. It may be so God frame it to the best, But often times my dreams presage to true. Come M. Franklin wele now walk in Pav's And dine together at the ordinary, And by my men direction draw to the key, And with the tied go down to Feuershame, Say, M. Franklin shall it not be so? Well get you back to Rochester, but siirra see you overtake us ere we come to Raynum down, For it will be very late ere we get home: Come M. Franklin let us go on softly, The annoyance of the dust, or else some meat, you eat at dinner, cannot brook you: I have be often so, and soon amended. I, where the gentleman did chek his wife. her answer then, I wonder how she looked, Having forsworn it with such vehement oaths, And at the instant so approved upon her, Come we are almost now at Raynum down, Your pretty tale beguiles the weary way: I would you were in state to tell it out. Your honours always bound to do you service, My man's coming after, But hers my honest Friend that came along with me. I beseech your honour pardon me. I have made a promise to a gentle man, My honest Friend to meet him at my house, The occasion is great, or else would I wait on you. See how the howrs the gardeant of heavens gate Have by their toil removed the darksome clouds. That Soll may well deserve the trampled pace, Wherein he wont to guide his golden car, The season fits, come Franklin, let's a way. It was no chase that made me rise so early, But as I told Thee yesternight to go to the I'll of Sheppy: There to dine with my Lord Cheiny. For so his honour late commanded me. Content, sirrah saddle your mistress nag. Nay see how mistaking you are, I pray thee go. Then let me leave Thee satisfied in this, That time nor place, nor persons altar me, But that I hold Thee de rer then my life. And that shall be ere night and if I live. Farewell sweet Ales, we mind to sup with thee. Exit All. Go too sirrah, see you follow us to the isle of sheppye, To my Lord Cheynyes where we mean to dine. Of ferry man, where art thou? We have great haste, I pray Thee come away. This missed my friend, is mystical, Like to a good companions smoky brain, That was half drowned with new ale over night. Speaks thou this of thine own experience, Yes I pray thee good ferryman. Why then by this reckoning, you sometime Play the man in the Moon. I am almost stifled with this fog, come lets away Franklin hearest thou this fellow speak? That which he craves I dearly bought of him, Although the rend of it was ever mine. Sirrah you, that ask these questions, If with thy clamorous impeaching tongue Thou rail on me, as I have herd thou dost, He lay Thee up so close a twelve months day, As thou shalt neither see the Son nor Moon, Look to it, for as surely as I live, I'll banish pity if thou use me thus. It is the raylingest knave in christendom, And oftentimes the villain will be mad, It greatly matters not what he says, But I assure you, I never did him wrong. Now that our horses are gone home before, My wife may haply meet me on the way, For God knows she is grown passing kind of late, And greatly changed from the old humour Of her wonted forwardness. And seeks by fair means to redeem old faults. Come Franklin, let us strain to mend our pace, And take her unawares playing the cook. Here enters Ales and Mosbie. For I believe sheele strive to mend our cheer. Who is that? Mosbie, what so familiar? Injurious strumpet, and thou ribald knave, Unt wine those arms. Ah Mosbie, perturde beast, bear this and all. But is it for truth, that neither thou nor he, Entendedst malice in your misdemeanour. Then pardon me sweet Ales, And forgive this fault: Forget but this, and never see the like. Impose me penance, and I will perform it: For in thy discontent I find a death, A death tormenting more then death it self, I pray the gentle Franklin hold thy peace, I know my wife counsels me for the best, I'll seek out mosby, where his wouud is dressed, And salve his hapless quarrel if I may. Now he is here you will not serve me so. No good M. Mosbie. I pray thee Mosbie let her prate her fill, Sirrah fetch me a cup of Wine. I'll make them Friends. And gentle M. Ales, seeing you are so stout, You shall begin, frown not, I'll have it so. Why Ales? how can I do too much for him, Whose life I have endangered without cause. Come Ales, is our supper ready yet? Come M. Mosbie, what shall we play for? Content. Marry sir theres two for failing. Mosbie, Michael, Ales, what will you do? Why what art thou now, but a Velvet drudge, A cheating steward, and base minded peasant. Tush I'll have no such vows made in my house.