Mosbie. Measure me what I am, not what I was.

Arden. Why, what art thou now but a velvet drudge,

A cheating steward, and base-minded peasant?

Mosbie. Arden, now thou hast belched and vomited

The rancorous venom of thy mis-swoll’n heart,

Hear me but speak: as I intend to live

With God and his elected saints in heaven,

I never meant more to solicit her;

And that she knows, and all the world shall see. 330

330

I loved her once;—sweet Arden, pardon me,

I could not choose, her beauty fired my heart!

But time hath quenched these over-raging coals;

And, Arden, though I now frequent thy house,

’Tis for my sister’s sake, her waiting-maid,

And not for hers. Mayest thou enjoy her long:

Hell-fire and wrathful vengeance light on me,

If I dishonour her or injure thee.

Arden. Mosbie, with these thy protestations

The deadly hatred of my heart’s appeased, 340

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