Scene III Another Place on the Coast
Here enters Will at one door, and Shakebag at another.
Shakebag. Oh, Will, where art thou?
Will. Here, Shakebag, almost in hell’s mouth, where I
cannot see my way for smoke.
Shakebag. I pray thee speak still that we may meet by
the sound, for I shall fall into some ditch or other,
unless my feet see better than my eyes.
Will. Didst thou ever see better weather to run away
with another man’s wife, or play with a wench at
pot-finger? 9
Shakebag. No; this were a fine world for chandlers, if
this weather would last; for then a man should
never dine nor sup without candle-light. But,
sirrah Will, what horses are those that passed?
Will. Why, didst thou hear any?
Shakebag. Ay, that I did.
Will. My life for thine, ’twas Arden, and his companion,
and then all our labour’s lost.
Shakebag. Nay, say not so, for if it be they, they may
haply lose their way as we have done, and then we
may chance meet with them. 20
Will. Come, let us go on like a couple of blind pilgrims.
[Then Shakebag falls into a ditch.
Shakebag. Help, Will, help, I am almost drowned.
Here enters the Ferryman.
Ferryman. Who’s that that calls for help?
Will. ’Twas none here, ’twas thou thyself.
Ferryman. I came to help him that called for help.
Why, how now? who is this that’s in the ditch?
You are well enough served to go without a guide
such weather as this.
Will. Sirrah, what companies hath passed your ferry
this morning? 30
Ferryman. None but a couple of gentlemen, that went
to dine at my Lord Cheiny’s.
Will. Shakebag, did not I tell thee as much?
Ferryman. Why, sir, will you have any letters carried
to them?
Will. No, sir; get you gone.
Ferryman. Did you ever see such a mist as this?
Will. No, nor such a fool as will rather be hought than
get his way.
Ferryman. Why, sir, this is no Hough-Monday; you
are deceived.—What’s his name, I pray you, sir? 41
Shakebag. His name is Black Will.
Ferryman. I hope to see him one day hanged upon a
hill. [Exit Ferryman.
Shakebag. See how the sun hath cleared the foggy mist,
Now we have missed the mark of our intent.
Here enters Greene, Mosbie, and Alice.
Mosbie. Black Will and Shakebag, what make you here?
What, is the deed done? is Arden dead?
Will. What could a blinded man perform in arms?
Saw you not how till now the sky was dark, 50
That neither horse nor man could be discerned?
Yet did we hear their horses as they passed.
Greene. Have they escaped you, then, and passed the ferry?
Shakebag. Ay, for a while; but here we two will stay,
And at their coming back meet with them once more.
Zounds, I was ne’er so toiled in all my life
In following so slight a task as this.
Mosbie. How cam’st thou so berayed?
Will. With making false footing in the dark;
He needs would follow them without a guide. 60
Alice. Here’s to pay for a fire and good cheer:
Get you to Feversham to the Flower-de-luce,
And rest yourselves until some other time.
Greene. Let me alone; it most concerns my state.
Will. Ay, Mistress Arden, this will serve the turn,
In case we fall into a second fog.
[Exeunt Greene, Will, and Shakebag.
Mosbie. These knaves will never do it, let us give it over.
Alice. First tell me how you like my new device:
Soon, when my husband is returning back,
You and I both marching arm in arm, 70
Like loving friends, we’ll meet him on the way,
And boldly beard and brave him to his teeth.
When words grow hot and blows begin to rise,
I’ll call those cutters forth your tenement,
Who, in a manner to take up the fray,
Shall wound my husband Hornsby to the death.
Mosbie. A fine device! why, this deserves a kiss.
[Exeunt.
IV. iii. 40. Hock Monday followed the second Sunday after Easter. See Brand’s Popular Antiquities.
IV. iii. 68. Our poet blackens Mosbie for the same reason that he whitewashes Arden, e.g.: ‘Master Arden both then and at other times had been greatly provoked by Mosbie to fight with him, but he would not.’ ‘Mosby at the first would not agree to that cowardly murdering of him.’—Holinshed.