William Shakespeare

“ It is not love that loves to anger love.
Alice. It is not love that loves to murder love.
Mosbie. How mean you that? 60
Alice. Thou knowest how dearly Arden loved me.
Mosbie. And then?
Alice. And then—conceal the rest, for ’tis too bad,
Lest that my words be carried with the wind,
And published in the world to both our shames.
I pray thee, Mosbie, let our springtime wither;
Our harvest else will yield but loathsome weeds.
Forget, I pray thee, what hath passed betwixt us,
For how I blush and tremble at the thoughts!
Mosbie. What? are you changed? 70
Alice. ”

“ Arden’s House at Feversham.
Here enters Mosbie.
Mosbie. Disturbèd thoughts drives me from company
And dries my marrow with their watchfulness;
Continual trouble of my moody brain
Feebles my body by excess of drink,
And nips me as the bitter north-east wind
Doth check the tender blossoms in the spring.
Well fares the man, howe’er his cates do taste,
That tables not with foul suspicion;
And he but pines amongst his delicates,
Whose troubled mind is stuffed with discontent. 10
My golden time was when I had no gold ”

“ Country between Feversham and London.
Enter Greene and Bradshaw.
Bradshaw. See you them that comes yonder, Master Greene?
Greene. Ay, very well: do you know them?
Here enters Black Will and Shakebag.
Bradshaw. The one I know not, but he seems a knave
Chiefly for bearing the other company;
For such a slave, so vile a rogue as he,
Lives not again upon the earth.
Black Will is his name. ”

“ See, Mistress Arden, where your husband lies;
Confess this foul fault and be penitent.
Alice. Arden, sweet husband, what shall I say?
The more I sound his name, the more he bleeds;
This blood condemns me, and in gushing forth
Speaks as it falls, and asks me why I did it.
Forgive me, Arden: I repent me now,
And, would my death save thine, thou should’st not die.
Rise up, sweet Arden, and enjoy thy love,
And frown not on me when we meet in heaven: 10
In heaven I’ll love thee, though on earth I did not.
Mayor. Say, Mosbie, what made thee murder him?
Franklin. Study not for an answer ”

“ In three directions the art of the writer is mature. First, the character of the base coward Mosbie, and of the ‘bourgeois Clytemnestra,’ Alice Arden, are drawn with an insight, delicacy, and sustained power new to English literature in 1592, and not excelled till Shakespeare excelled them. The picture of Arden, as a man fascinated and bewitched by his wife and by his fate, might match that of Mosbie and Alice if the artist had not blurred his conception by the introduction of the jarring motives of avarice and sacrilege. But the poet’s aim is clear; it is his own, and it almost succeeds. ”

“ Arden. Come, Franklin, let us strain to mend our pace,
And take her unawares playing the cook;
Here enters Alice and Mosbie.
For I believe she’ll strive to mend our cheer.
Franklin. Why, there’s no better creatures in the world,
Than women are when they are in good humours.
Arden. Who is that? Mosbie? what, so familiar?
Injurious strumpet, and thou ribald knave,
Untwine those arms.
Alice. Ay, with a sugared kiss let them untwine. 80
Arden. ”

“ Alice. Husband, sit down; your breakfast will be cold.
Arden. Come, Master Mosbie, will you sit with us?
Mosbie. I cannot eat, but I’ll sit for company.
Arden. Sirrah Michael, see our horse be ready.
Alice. Husband, why pause ye? why eat you not? ”

“ Ah, Mosbie! perjured beast! bear this and all!
Mosbie. And yet no horned beast; the horns are thine.
Franklin. O monstrous! Nay, then it is time to draw.
Alice. Help, help! they murder my husband.
Here enters Will and Shakebag.
Shakebag. Zounds, who injures Master Mosbie? Help, Will! I am hurt.
Mosbie. I may thank you, Mistress Arden, for this wound. ”

“ Ne’er longed so much to see a running brook
As I to finish Arden’s tragedy.
Seest thou this gore that cleaveth to my face?
From hence ne’er will I wash this bloody stain,
Till Arden’s heart be panting in my hand.
Greene. Why, that’s well said; but what saith Shakebag?
Shakebag. I cannot paint my valour out with words: 110
But, give me place and opportunity,
Such mercy as the starven lioness,
When she is dry sucked of her eager young,
[37] Shows to the prey that next encounters her,
On Arden so much pity would I take.
Greene. So should it fare with men of firm resolve. ”

“ Exeunt. Manet Black Will and Shakebag.
Will. The devil break all your necks at four miles’ end!
Zounds, I could kill myself for very anger!
His lordship chops me in, 130
Even when my dag was levelled at his heart.
I would his crown were molten down his throat.
Shakebag. Arden, thou hast wondrous holy luck.
Did ever man escape as thou hast done?
Well, I’ll discharge my pistol at the sky,
For by this bullet Arden might not die.
Here enters Greene.
Greene. What, is he down? is he dispatched?
Shakebag. Ay, in health towards Feversham, to shame us all.
Greene. ”

“ Swinburne’s criticism is the phrase ‘a young man’s work.’ This play is not ‘a young man’s work.’ The copiousness of the young man Shakespeare’s work is the exact contrary of the deliberate anxious effort which marks the style of Arden of Faversham except in the prose scenes. In none of Shakespeare’s plays can it be perceived that the poet has taken such pains as the poet of Arden takes. ”

“ Chiefly in case of murder, why, ’tis the way 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.
You know this Greene; is he not religious?
A man, I guess, of great devotion?
Alice. He is.
Mosbie. Then, sweet Alice, let it pass: I have a drift 590
Will quiet all, whatever is amiss.
[25]
Here enters Clarke and Susan.
Alice. How now, Clarke? have you found me false? ”

“ Michael and Bradshaw in Feversham must suffer death.
Alice. Let my death make amends for all my sins.
Mosbie. Fie upon women! this shall be my song;
But bear me hence, for I have lived too long.
Susan. Seeing no hope on earth, in heaven is my hope.
Michael. Faith, I care not, seeing I die with Susan.
Bradshaw. My blood be on his head that gave the sentence.
Mayor. To speedy execution with them all! [Exeunt.
[106]
V. v. 30. ‘For the charges of brenning Mistress Arden and execution of George Bradshaw, XLIII S.’—Canterbury Records.
SCENE VI
Here enters Franklin. ”

“ Second, the picturesque ferocity and grim humour of Black Will and Shakebag are described with a firmness and ease and restraint of style which critics have not sufficiently noted. I can compare it only with the Jack Cade scenes of the Contention (and 2 Henry VI.) . The prose of our poet is excellent. His humour has a clearly defined character and style of its own. The character of Michael, so admired by Mr. Swinburne, is as subtle and well-sustained as Mosbie’s or Alice Arden’s, and it exhibits our poet’s special humorous gift. ”

“ What will you do, sir?
Mosbie. Revenge it on the proudest of you both. 310
[Then Arden draws forth Mosbie’s sword.
Arden. So, sirrah; you may not wear a sword,
The statute makes against artificers;
I warrant that I do. Now use your bodkin,
[14] Your Spanish needle, and your pressing iron,
For this shall go with me; and mark my words,
You goodman botcher, ’tis to you I speak:
The next time that I take thee near my house,
Instead of legs I’ll make thee crawl on stumps.
Mosbie. Ah, Master Arden, you have injured me:
I do appeal to God and to the world. 320
Franklin. ”

“ And, Susan, fetch water and wash away this blood.
Susan. The blood cleaveth to the ground and will not out. 261
Alice. But with my nails I’ll scrape away the blood;—
The more I strive, the more the blood appears!
Susan. What’s the reason, Mistress, can you tell?
Alice. Because I blush not at my husband’s death.
Here enters Mosbie.
Mosbie. How now? what’s the matter? is all well?
Alice. Ay, well, if Arden were alive again.
In vain we strive, for here his blood remains.
Mosbie. Why, strew rushes on it, can you not?
This wench doth nothing: fall unto the work. 270
Alice. ”

“ Thou that wouldst see me hang, thou, Mosbie, thou:
What favour hast thou had more than a kiss
At coming or departing from the town?
Mosbie. You wrong yourself and me to cast these doubts:
Your loving husband is not jealous. 380
Arden. Why, gentle Mistress Alice, cannot I be ill
But you’ll accuse yourself?
Franklin, thou hast a box of mithridate;
I’ll take a little to prevent the worst.
Franklin. Do so, and let us presently take horse;
My life for yours, ye shall do well enough.
Alice. Give me a spoon, I’ll eat of it myself ”

“ Clarke. You did.
Mosbie. And what? wilt be a match?
Clarke. A match, i’ faith, sir: ay, the day is mine.
The painter lays his colours to the life,
His pencil draws no shadows in his love.
Susan is mine.
Alice. You make her blush. 600
Mosbie. ”

“ Unless Mosbie solicit his suit,
The villain hath sworn the slaughter of his master.
We’ll question him, for he may stead us much,—
How now, Michael, whither are you going?
Michael. My master hath new supped,
And I am going to prepare his chamber.
Greene. Where supped Master Arden? 130
Michael. At the Nag’s Head, at the eighteen pence
ordinary. How now, Master Shakebag? what,
Black Will! God’s dear lady, how chance your
face is so bloody?
Will. Go to, sirrah, there is a chance in it; this sauciness
in you will make you be knocked.
Michael. Nay, an you be offended, I’ll be gone. ”

“ Exit Michael.
Here enters Arden and Mosbie.
Husband, what mean you to bring Mosbie home?
Although I wished you to be reconciled,
’Twas more for fear of you than love of him.
Black Will and Greene are his companions,
And they are cutters, and may cut you short:
Therefore I thought it good to make you friends. 180
But wherefore do you bring him hither now?
You have given me my supper with his sight.
Mosbie. Master Arden, methinks your wife would have me gone.
Arden. No, good Master Mosbie; women will be prating.
Alice, bid him welcome; he and I are friends.
Alice. ”

“ Alice. Ay, such kind husbands seldom want excuses;
Home is a wild cat to a wandering wit.
The time hath been,—would God it were not past,—
[67] That honour’s title nor a lord’s command
Could once have drawn you from these arms of mine.
But my deserts or your desires decay,
Or both; yet if true love may seem desert,
I merit still to have thy company.
Franklin. Why, I pray you, sir, let her go along with us; 20
I am sure his honour will welcome her
And us the more for bringing her along.
Arden. Content; sirrah, saddle your mistress’ nag.
Alice. No, begged favour merits little thanks ”

“ I and my
company have taken the constable from his watch,
and carried him about the fields on a coltstaff. I
have broken a sergeant’s head with his own mace,
and bailed whom I list with my sword and buckler.
All the tenpenny-alehouses-men would stand every
morning with a quart-pot in their hand, saying,
‘Will it please your worship drink?’ He that had
not done so, had been sure to have had his sign
pulled down and his lattice borne away the next
night. To conclude, what have I not done? yet
cannot do this; doubtless, he is preserved by
miracle. 32
Here enters Alice and Michael. ”

“ Then lets he down his window, and it breaks Black Will’s head.
Will. Zounds, draw, Shakebag, I am almost killed.
Prentice. We’ll tame you, I warrant.
Will. Zounds, I am tame enough already.
Here enters Arden, Franklin, and Michael.
Arden. What troublesome fray or mutiny is this?
Franklin. ’Tis nothing but some brabling paltry fray,
Devised to pick men’s pockets in the throng.
Arden. Is’t nothing else? come, Franklin, let’s away. ”

“ To send thee roundly to the devil of hell. 160
And therefore thus: I am the very man,
Marked in my birth-hour by the destinies,
To give an end to Arden’s life on earth;
Thou but a member but to whet the knife
Whose edge must search the closet of his breast:
Thy office is but to appoint the place,
[39] And train thy master to his tragedy;
Mine to perform it when occasion serves.
Then be not nice, but here devise with us
How and what way we may conclude his death. 170
Shakebag. So shalt thou purchase Mosbie for thy friend,
And by his friendship gain his sister’s love.
Greene. ”

“ Susan.
Clarke. Would Susan’s love lay upon this stroke.
[Then he breaks Michael’s head.
Here enters Mosbie, Greene, and Alice.
Alice. I’ll lay my life, this is for Susan’s love.
Stayed you behind your master to this end?
Have you no other time to brable in
But now when serious matters are in hand?—
Say, Clarke, hast thou done the thing thou promised? 80
Clarke. Ay, here it is; the very touch is death.
Alice. Then this, I hope, if all the rest do fail,
Will catch Master Arden,
[70] And make him wise in death that lived a fool. ”

“ Shakebag. Come to the purpose, Michael; we hear 143
You have a pretty love in Feversham.
Michael. Why, have I two or three, what’s that to thee!
Will. You deal too mildly with the peasant. Thus it is:
’Tis known to us that you love Mosbie’s sister;
We know besides that you have ta’en your oath
To further Mosbie to your mistress’ bed,
And kill your master for his sister’s sake.
Now, sir, a poorer coward than yourself 150
Was never fostered in the coast of Kent:
How comes it then that such a knave as you
Dare swear a matter of such consequence?
Greene. Ah, Will——
Will. ”