Arden of Feversham

ce in her wanton thoughts, No question then but she would turn the leaf And sorrow for her dissolution ; But she is rooted in her wickedness, Perverse and stubborn, not to be reclaimed ; 10 Good counsel is to her as rain to weeds, And reprehension makes her vice to grow As Hydra's head that plenished by decay. Her faults, methink, are painted in my face, For every searching eye to overread ; And Mosbie's name, a scandal unto mine, Is deeply trenched in my blushing brow. Ah, Franklin, Franklin, when I think on this, My heart's grief rends my other powers Worse than the conflict at the hour of death. 20 Franklin. Gentle Arden, leave this sad lament : She will amend, and so your griefs will cease ; Or else she '11 die, and so your sorrows end. If neither of these two do haply fall, Yet let your comfort be that others bear Your woes, twice doubled all, with patience. Arden. My house is irksome ; there I cannot rest. Franklin. Then stay with me in London ; go not home. Arden. Then that base Mosbie doth usurp my room And makes his triumph of my being thence. 30 At home or not at home, where'er I be, Here, here it lies, ah Franklin, here it lies That will not out till wretched Arden dies. Here enters Michael. Franklin. Forget your griefs a while ; here comes your Arden. What a-clock is't, sirrah ? Michael. Almost ten. Arden. See, see, how runs away the weary time I Come, Master Franklin, shall we go to bed ? [Exeunt Arden a...