Franklin. Why, what is he?

Arden. A botcher, and no better at the first;

Who, by base brokage getting some small stock,

Crept into service of a nobleman,

And by his servile flattery and fawning

Is now become the steward of his house,

And bravely jets it in his silken gown. 30

30

Franklin. No nobleman will countenance such a peasant.

Arden. Yes, the Lord Clifford, he that loves not me.

But through his favour let him not grow proud;

For were he by the Lord Protector backed,

He should not make me to be pointed at.

I am by birth a gentleman of blood,

And that injurious ribald, that attempts

To violate my dear wife’s chastity

(For dear I hold her love, as dear as heaven)

Shall on the bed which he thinks to defile 40

40

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