When he is dead, he should have twenty more

And repossess his former lands again. 570

570

On this we ’greed, and he is ridden straight

To London, for to bring his death about.

Mosbie. But call you this good news?

Alice. Ay, sweetheart, be they not?

Mosbie. ’Twere cheerful news to hear the churl were dead;

But trust me, Alice, I take it passing ill

You would be so forgetful of our state

To make recount of it to every groom.

What! to acquaint each stranger with our drifts,

Chiefly in case of murder, why, ’tis the way 580

580

To make it open unto Arden’s self

And bring thyself and me to ruin both.

Forewarned, forearmed; who threats his enemy,

Lends him a sword to guard himself withal.

Alice. I did it for the best.

Mosbie. Well, seeing ’tis done, cheerly let it pass.

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