And that, I know, will be mine overthrow.

Mosbie. Thine overthrow? first let the world dissolve.

Alice. Nay, Mosbie, let me still enjoy thy love,

And happen what will, I am resolute. 220

220

My saving husband hoards up bags of gold

To make our children rich, and now is he

Gone to unload the goods that shall be thine,

And he and Franklin will to London straight.

Mosbie. To London, Alice? if thou’lt be ruled by me,

We’ll make him sure enough for coming there.

Alice. Ah, would we could!

Mosbie. I happened on a painter yesternight,

The only cunning man of Christendom;

For he can temper poison with his oil, 230

230

That whoso looks upon the work he draws

Shall, with the beams that issue from his sight,

Suck venom to his breast and slay himself.

Sweet Alice, he shall draw thy counterfeit,

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