[8]

Alice. But, Michael, see you do it cunningly.

Michael. Why, say I should be took, I’ll ne’er confess

That you know anything; and Susan, being a maid,

May beg me from the gallows of the sheriff.

Alice. Trust not to that, Michael.

Michael. You cannot tell me, I have seen it, I. 170

170

But, mistress, tell her, whether I live or die,

I’ll make her more worth than twenty painters can;

For I will rid mine elder brother away,

And then the farm of Bolton is mine own.

Who would not venture upon house and land,

When he may have it for a right down blow?

Alice. Yonder comes Mosbie. Michael, get thee gone,

And let not him nor any know thy drifts.

Mosbie, my love!

Mosbie. Away, I say, and talk not to me now. 180

180

Alice. A word or two, sweet heart, and then I will.

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