Scrib. Can such men, ever false unto theire God, Keepe faythe with men at any tyme?

Clowne. But staye, staye, there's one riddle I cannot expound: howe com thou so suddenly to lepp out of a howse of roguery into a howse of religion, from a stewes to a cloyster, from beastleness to blessednes and from a sacrilegious place to a sanctuary?

Scrib. Such was the grace heaven sent us, who from perill, Danger of lyfe, the extreamest of all extreames Hathe brought us to the happy patronage Of this most reverent abbott.

Clowne. What dangers? what extreames?

Scrib. From the sea's fury, drowneing; for last night Our shipp was splitt, wee cast upon these rocks.

Clowne. Sayd in a jest, in deede! Shipwreck by land![86] I perceive you tooke the woodden waggen for a ship and the violent rayne for the sea, and by cause some one of the wheeles broake and you cast into some water plashe, you thought the shipp had splitt and you had bene in danger of drowneinge.

Scrib. Are you then ignorant how, late in the even, With purpose to make better sale of us And to defraude thy maister, hee shipt us With all the gold and jewels that hee had, All which save wee are perisht?

Clowne. But that caterpiller, that ould catamiting cankerworme, what's become of him?

Scrib. Dead I hope, with drinkinge of salte water.

Clowne. I would all of his profession had pledged him the same healthe. But how doth Palestra take this?

Scrib. Gladd to bee rid of such a slavery, Yet sadly weepinge for her casket's losse, That which included ample testimony Bothe of her name and parents.

Clowne. All her ill luck go with it![87]—Heere will be simple newes to bringe to my mayster when hee hears shee hath bene shippwreckt! Il make him beleeve I went a fishinge for her to sea and eather drewe her ashore in my netts, or batinge my hooke strooke her and drewe her upp by the gills with myne angle. Make you hast for I'l staye till you come back. [Exit.

Scrib. But this delaye had allmost putt me from What I was sent about; yes this is the place. [Knocks.

Enter Godfrey.

[Godf.] Whoes that that offers violens to these gates That never yet offended? What want you?

Scrib. That which the earthe Dothe forebidd none, and freely yelds to all, A little fayre springe water.

Godfr.—One of those giurles Beelyke this morninge shippwrackt and now scapt? A dainty peece of maydes fleshe. Such sweete bitts Are not heare often swallowed, and my mouth Waters at this fine morsell.

Scrib. Water, frend; Tis that I crave for heaven's sake.

Godfr. Wee have none Of guift, unless you by't.

Scrib. Will you sell that The earthe affourds you gratis, and sett pryse Of what a foe would yeeld an enemy?

Godfr. Not, pretty lasse, so thou'lt afford mee that, Freely and without bargen, which not only One frend will to another but oft tymes A stranger to a stranger.

Scrib. What's that, prithee?

Godfr. Only a kisse, sweete wensh.

Scrib. Ye are too familiar, I'l by none at that pryse: or fill my pale Or I'l returne back empty.

Godfr. Well for once I will not greatly stand out, yet in hope, That what att our fyrst meetinge you'l not grant You'l not denye at partinge; reatch thy pale.

Scrib. Quick as you love mee.

Godfr. As you love mee! right: Who[88] ever lov'd that lov'd not att fyrst sight? The poet's excellent sayeinge. [Exit[89] to draw water.

Scrib. What shall I saye or howe shall I excuse This my longe staye? but nowe I cast myne eyes Backe on the roughe yet unappeased seas, I quake to thinke upon our dangers past. But see the fearefull object of a death More menacinge and affrightfull, a sea monster Cast from the deepes to swallow us ashore! Malevolent fate and black desaster still Pursues us to all places, but of all Enter Myldew and Sarlaboys to her. This, this the greatest, and to this one compard All that are past but trifles. Oh that grand maister Of mechall[90] lusts, that bulke of brothelree, That stillary of all infectious sinnes, Hath scapt the wrack, and with his fellowe guest And partner in corruption makes this waye, And with no tarde pace. Where shall I hyde mee! Whether shall I fly to Palestra back And with this sadd relation kill her quite That's scarce recovered! rather, you hy powers, Then to prolonge our griefes, shorten our howers. [Exit.

Godfr. Where[91] is my daynty damosella? where? Mee thought the water mett mee the half way And lept up full three stepps to meete my pale. This 'tis when as a man goes willingly About his busines. Howe fresh a kisse will tast From her whyte lipps! and every part besydes From head to toe have bin so lately duckt And rincht in the salt water. Wheres my sweete? Not heare? no where? why, hoe, my whytinge mopp[92] Late scapt from feedinge haddocks! ha, what, gone? Nay then, go thou too that shee sent mee for, To him that next shall find thee! yet not so: This learned pale instructs mee by these letters That it beelonges unto this monastery. And iff it shoold be lost by my default I may be chardged with theft or sacriledge. No, I'l deliver it to the owners suer,[93] And this the place.

Enter the Bawde Mildewe and Sarlaboyse.

Mild. Hee that woold stoody to bee miserable Lett him forsake the land and putt to sea. What widgeing,[94] that hath any voyce at all, Would trust his safety to a rotten planke That hath on earthe sounde footinge!

Sarlab. None but madmen.

Mild. Why thou of none, thrifty and well advised, Stryvest thou to make mee such, where's now the gayne And proffitt promist? the riche marchandyse Of lust and whooringe? the greate usury Got by the sale of wantons? these cursed jewelryes With all the wealthe and treasure that I had,[95] All perisht in one bottom, and all, all, Through thy malicious counsell.

Sarlab. Curse thy selfe. The trusty bark, ore laden with thy sinnes, Baudryes, grosse lyes, thy theft and perjuryes Beesydes the burdene of thy ill gott gooddes, Not able to indure so greate a weight Was forct to sinke beneathe them.[96]

Mild. Out, dogge!

Sarl. Out, devill!

Mild. By thee I am made nothinge. Oh my giurles You sweete and never faylinge marchandyse, Comodityes in all coasts, worthy coyne, Christiane or heathen! by whom in distresses I coold have raysed a fortune! more undoone That I should loose you thus!

Sarl. I knowe hee had rather See halfe a hundred of them burnt[97] a land Then one destroyde by water. But, oh Neptune, I feare I have supt so much of thy salt brothe Twill bringe mee to a feavour.

Mild. Oh my Palestra And fayre Scribonia, weare but you too safe, Yet som hope weare reserved me.

Sarl. I praye, Mildewe, When you so early to the bottom dyv'd, For whom weare you a fishinge?

Mild. Marry, for maydens; Woold I knewe howe to catch them. But my gutts, Howe they are sweld with sea brine!

Sarl. Tis good phisick To cure thee of the mangy.

Mild. Wretched man! That have no more left of a magazine Then these wett cloathes upon mee, nay the woorst Of all I had and purposely put on Only to lyv a shipp-board.

Sarl. Once to-day Thou wert in wealthe above mee, nowe the seas have Left us an equall portion.

Mild. In all the wourld I vowe I am not woorthe a lighted faggott Or a poore pan of charcoale.

Sarl. Justly punisht Thou that hast all thy lyfe tyme dealt in fyre-woorks, Stoves and hott bathes to sweet in, nowe to have Thy teethe to falter in thy head for could Nimbler then virginall Jacks.[98]

Mild. Th'art a sweete guest.

Sarl. Too good for such an host, better to have bin Lodgd in som spittle; or, if possible, To bee imprisoned in som surgeon's box That smells of salves and plasters.

Mild. Nowe what sharke Or wyde-mouth'd whale shall swallowe upp my budgett, May it at th'instant choake him!

Sarl. Cursedly twas got, And nowe thy curse goes with it.

Mild. But those giurles! Nought so much greives mee as to part with them Before they lost theire maiden-headds. Had they lyvd Till I had seen them women, and oth' trade, My tast and care bestowed to bringe them upp I should have thought well spent, which nowe with them Is meerely cast away.

Enter Godfrey.

Sarlab. Peace now your pratinge and heare another spirit.

Godfr.[99] The pale religious, which was the pledge Of a kisse lascivious, I have given backe, Ey, and to boote the water; but within There's such a coyle betwixt the 2 young giurles Such quakinge, shakinge, quiveringe, shiveringe Such cryeinge, and such talk of flyinge, then of hyding, And that there's no abydinge; one cryes out and calls, The others redy to breake downe the walls; Then weepinge they whisper together, And saye they woold roone if they knew whither, And are indeede putt to such strange affrights That I was afrayde they weare hunted with sprights, And therefore cam and left them: lass, poor giurles, They are in piteous feare.

Mild. Hee talkt of guerles: why may not these bee they, Escapt as wee? staye, younge man, good frend, staye.

Godf. Too ould drown'd ratts: I'l have som sport with them, And though I pitty those I'l play with these.

Mild. What gurles weare those thou spakest of?

Sarl. Tell us fyrst Where wee might finde som comfort.

Godf. Lett us oh lett us bee advys'd And living still to all men, So though wee bee but midle sizd Wee shalbe held no small men.

Mild. Concerning these fayre damosels, speake of that.

Sarl. Which now concernes us most, where may wee meete With warmth, with foode, and shelter?

Godf. Oh thou that dost demand of mee Som fyre, som meate and harbor, I see thou lately hast ben washt, Hath Neptune ben thy barbor?

Sarl. This fellowe mearely flowtes our misery, And laughs att our distresses.

Mild. But, kind frende, Concerninge these yonge women, are they fayre?

Godf. Fayre flesh and cleane they bothe appeare And not lyke gypsies umber'd.

Mild. How many?

Godf. Just as thou and I when wee are Once but number'd.

Mild. Oh, Sarleboys, there's comfort in these woords; They have allredy warmed my hart within, Why may not these bee they?

Sarl. Bee they or not, I had rather see one caudell downe my throate, To wash downe this salt-water, than bee mayster Of all the wenshes lyveinge.

Mild. Oh where, where, Where might I see too such?

Godf. Thou that goest sydewayes lyke a crabb, gapst on mee lyke an oyster, Followe thy flat nose and smell them there, in th'out part of this cloyster.

Mild. Oh maye this peece of earthe proove happy to mee As hath the sea bin fatall.

Sarl. I'l followe and coold wish Boath cloyster and whole villadge weare a fyre Only to dry my clothes by.

Godf. Marry hange you You that so late scaped drowning for I take you For too pestiferous rascalls.

Exeunt.

Explicit Actus 2.



Act 3.

SCENE 1.

Enter the Lady de Averne with a letter in her hand readinge, and with her mayde.

Lady. And howe came you by this?

Mayde. Followinge you to th'chappell And I protest not thinking anythinge, Fryar Jhon o'th suddeine pluckt mee by the sleeve And whisperd in myne eare to give that to you, But privatly, bycause it was a thinge Only toweard your person.

Lady. Twas well doonne; But prithee do no more so, for this tyme Tak't for a warninge.

Mayde. Madam I am skool'd.

Lady. Doo so, or ever loose me. Heeres[100] sweet stuffe! Can this be in a vowed monastick lyfe Or to be fownd in churchmen? 'tis a question Whether to smyle or vex, to laughe or storme, Bycause in this I finde the cause of boathe. What might this sawcy fellowe spy in mee To incorradge such a boldnes? yes this letter Instructs mee what: he seythe my affability And modest smiles, still gracinge his salutes, Moovd him to wryte. Oh what a chary care then Had womene neede have boathe of lipps and eyes When every fayre woord's censur'd liberty, And every kind looke meere licensiousnes! I have bin hitherto so greate a stranger To these unus'd temptations that in truthe I knowe not howe to take this. Sylly fryar! Madnes or folly, one of these't must bee. If th'one I pity, at the other laughe, And so no more reguard it.

Maid. Madam, if ought bee in that letter ill, Mee thinks 'tis good [that] you can tak't so well.

Lady. Peace you; a braineles weake, besotted fellowe! But lett mee better recollect myself. Madnes nor folly, and add lust to them, Durst not in fury, heate, or Ignorans, Have tempted my unquestioned chastity Without a fowrth abetter, jealousy. The more I ponder that, I more suspect By that my Lord should have a hand in this, And,[101] knowinge there's such difference in our yeares, To proove my feythe might putt this triall on mee. Else how durst such a poore penurious fryar Oppose such an unheard of Impudens Gaynst my incensed fury and revendge? My best is therefore, as I am innocent, To stooddy myne owne safety, showe this letter, Which one [?] my charity woold have conceiled, And rather give him upp a sacrifice To my lord's just incensement then indanger Myne owne unblemisht truthe and loyalty By incurringe his displeasure; heare hee coms.

Enter the Lord de Averne with som followers; his man Denis

L. Averne. Howe, Lady? reading?

Lady. Yes, a letter, sir.

L. Averne. Imparts it any newes?

Lady. Yes, syr, strange newes, And scarce to bee beleaved.

Lord Av. Forreyne.

Lady. Nay, domestick, Tis howsehould busines all.

Lord Av. May I impart it?

Lady. Oh, syr, in any case, As one it most concernes; but I intreate you, Reade it with patiens; the simplicity Of him that writte it will afford you mirthe, Or else his mallice spleane.—Nowe by his temper And change of countenance I shall easily find Whose hand was cheife in this.

Lord Av. All leave the place.

Denis. We shall, syr.

Lord Av. Possible That this shoold bee in man, nay in man vowed Unto a strickt abstemious chastity! From my owne creature and from one I feede, Nay from a place built in my holiest vowes, Establisht in my purpose in my lyfe, Maintayn'd from my revenue, after death Firm'd and assur'd to all posterityes— That that shoold breede such vipers!

Lady. Patiens, syr; the fellowe suer is madd.

Lord Av. I can be madd as hee too and I will. Thus to abuse my goodnes! in a deede Som woold hold meritorious, att the least Intended for an act of piety, To suffer in my zeale! nay to bee mockt In my devotion, by these empty drones That feede upon the honey of my hyve! To invert my good intentements, turne this nest [Ink: paper ready. I built for prayer unto a bedd of sinnes! Which thus I'l punish; this religious place, Once vowed to sanctity, I'l undermyne And in one instant blowe the structure upp With all th'unhallowed covent.

Lady. Praye, no extreames: Where one offends shall for his heighnous fact So many suffer? there's no justyce in't.

Lord Av. Som justyce I would showe them heare on earthe Before they finde it multiplyed in heaven.

Lady. For my sake, syr, do not for one man's error Destroy a woorke of perpetuity, By which your name shall lyve. One man offends; Lett the delinquent suffer.

Lord Av. So't shallbe, And thou hast well advysed. Som pen and Inke theire!

Lady. What purpose you?

Lord Av. That's soly to my selfe And in my fyxt thoughts stands irreproovable.

Enter Dennis with pen, inke, and paper.

Syr, heares pen inke and paper.

Lord Av. To his letter My self will give him answer. (writes)

Denis. Suer all's not well that on the suddane thus My lord is so distempered.

Lady. I have, I feare, Styr'd such a heate, that nought save blood will quensh: But wish my teares might doo't; hee's full of storme, And that in him will not bee easily calmd. His rage and troble both pronounce him guiltles Of this attempt, which makes mee rather doubt Hee may proove too seveare in his revendge, Which I with all indevour will prevent Yet to the most censorious I appeale, What coold I lesse have doone to save myne honor From suffringe beneathe skandall?

Lord Av. See, heare's all: 'Tis short and sweete, wryte this in your own hand Without exchange of the least sillable. Insert in copiinge no suspitious dash, No doubtfull comma; then subscribe your name, Seal't then with your own signet and dispatche it As I will have dyrected; doo't, I charge you, Without the least demurre or fallacy. By dooinge this you shall prevent distrust Or future breach beetwixt us; you shall further Expresse a just obediens.

Lady. Syr, I shall, What ere your concealed purpose bee, I shall.

Lord Av. Provyde mee horses, I will ryde.

Denis. When, syr?

Lord Av. Instantly, after dinner, and gie't out I am not to returne till three dayes hence, So spreade it throughe the howse.

Denis. What followers, Syr, Meane you to take alonge?

Lord Av. Thyself, no more, For 'tis a private busines, and withall; Provyde mee,—harke thyne eare.

Denis. A stronge one, Syrr.

Lord Av. One that will howld; withall give pryvate order At night the guarden gates may bee left open, By whiche wee may returne unknowne to any. What I intend lyes heare.

Denis. All wee servants Are bownd to doo, but not examine what; That's out of our comission.

Lord Av. 'Twixt us too I shall resolve thee further.

Denis. I am gone, Syr.

Lord Av. Nowe, sweete ladye, have you doon?

Lady. As you commanded.

Lord Av. Itt wants nothinge nowe But seale and superscription; I'l see't doone. And marke mee nowe; at evensonge, passinge through The cloyster to the chappell, when the fryar Amongst the rest bowes with his wonted duckes, Add rather then deminish from your smiles And wonted favours. Let this shee post then Conveigh this letter to the fryar's close fist, Who no dowbt gapes for answer.

Lady. All shall bee As you instructe; but punishe, syr, with pitty; Putt him to payne or shame, but deathe, alas, Is too seveare.

Lord Av. Tush, wyfe, feare not; think'st thou Ile quale[102] a churchman? [Exeunt.



SCENE 2.

Enter after a great noyse within, the Clowne, meetinge with Ashburne and Godfrey.

Clowne. If this villadge bee inhabited with men as this place within is with monsters; if with men that have eyes and can distinguishe bewty, or that have hartes and therfore saver of pitty; if you bee fathers and know what belonges to children, or christians and therefore what is ment by charity; if husbandmen and have hope of your harvest, or marchants of your trade's increase; if fishermen that would thryve by your labours, or any of all these that would be knowne by your honesty—

Ashburne. Many of those thou namest have place in us, Great'st part if not all.

Clowne. Then lend your helpeinge hands to succor, releive, defend, deliver, save, serve, patronadge, abett and mynteyn—

Ashb. Whom, what?

Clowne. Bewty, vertue, purity, syncerity, softnes, sweetenes, innocens, and chastity.

Ashb. Gainst what? gainst whome?

Cl. Oppression, frawde, rudenes, reproch, synn, shame, debate, discourse, theft, rapine, contempt of religion and breach of sanctury, against a magazine of misdemeanors and a whole monopoly of mischeif.

Godf. I knowe the busines, syr, if in that place These are the too distressed wrecks at sea We sawe this morninge floatinge, sweeter guerles I never yet sett ey on, and opprest By too ill lookeinge raskells that to warme them Wisht all the towne a bonefire—

Ashb. Miscreant slaves! For one younge damsell's sake I once cald daughter, And in the absens of there greater frends, I'l stand betwixt them and these injuryes.

Clowne. These are they after whome I have been seeking, and my mayster was enquiringe. If you will but secure them heare in the villadge whilst I carry woord to my mayster in the citty, you shall doo me a curtesye and him a most noble offyce.[103]

Ashb. It was no more then promisse, and I shoold Fayle in my goodnes not to see that doone. Post to thy mayster, bid him meete us heare: Mean tyme my menn shall rayse the villagers Boathe in the reskewe of these innocent maydes And in defens of holly priveledge.

Clowne. I fly lyke the winds.

Godf. And I'l go call the pesants To rayse another tempest.

[Exeunt[104] Clown and Godfrey.

Ashb. Hasten boathe And till ayde com I'l laye myne eare and listen To heare what further coyle is kept within: All's silent on the sudden. Musick.

[Song within.]

(1) Helpe, Helpe, oh ayde a wretched mayde or els we are undoon then.

(2) And have I caught, and have I caught you? in vayne it is to roonne then.

(1) Som reskewe then[105] from gods or men redeeme us from these crosses!

(2) Tis all in vayne, since nowe I gaine part of my former losses.

(1) Oh heaven, defend! what, yet no end of these our strange desasters?

(2) No favour's knowne, no pittye's showne to them that fly there maysters.

(1) Why to defame, reproch, and shame poor innocents thus dragge yee?

(2) With[106] your offens there's no dispence: away then! wherefore lagge yee?

A tumult within and sudden noyse. Enter at one doore Godfrey with country fellowes for there reskewe, at the other Mildewe, Sarlaboys, Palestra, Scribonia.

Palest. Where, in what place shall wee bestowe our selfes From this injust man's fury?

Scrib. If compeld And dragg'd from sanctuary by prophane hands, Where shall we flye to safety?

Ashb. Wheither, if Not unto us? wee often see the gods Give and bequeathe there justyce unto men, Which wee as fythefully [sic] will see performed.

All. Downe with these saucy companyons!

Godf. Downe with these sacraligious silsepaereales [?], these unsanctified Sarlaboyses that woold make a very seralia of the sanctuary, and are meare renegadoes to all religion!

Mild. Stay, hold, are you bandetty? rovers, theives, And wayte you heare to robb and pilladge us The sea so late hathe ryfled? these are myne, My chattells and my goodes, nor can you cease them As wrecks; I appeale unto the admirall.

Ash. His power I in his absens will supply, And cease yee all as forfett; these as goodds You as superfluous ladinge, till that coort Shall compremise betwixt us.

Mild. I'the meanetyme Lett mee possesse myne owne; these are my slaves My utensills, my mooveables, and bought With myne owne private coyne.

Sarl. To which I am witnes.

Mild. And by the heyre I'l dragge them as myne owne, Wear't from the holly alter.

Pal. Succor!

Scrib. Helpe!

Ashb. Are they not Christians?

Mild. Yes.

Ash. What nation?

Mild. Englishe.

Ashb. In myne owne country borne and shall not I Stand as theire champion then? I tell thee, pesant, England's, no broode for slaves.

Pal. Oh Syr to you Wee fly as to a father.

Ashb. And I'l guard you As weare you myne owne children.

Mild. Gainst there lord, Owner and mayster?

Ashb. None is lordd with us But such as are freeborne; our Christian lawes Do not allowe such to bee bought or sould For any Bawde or pander to hyre such To comon prostitution. Heere they stand: Tutch but a garment, nay a heyre of theres With thy least finger, thy bald head I'l sinke Belowe thy gowtye foote.

Mild. I am opprest, Is theire no lawe in France?

Ashb. Yes, Syr, to punish These chastityes seducers.

Mild. Give me fyar, I will not leive of all this monastery Of you or these, of what's combustible, Naye of my self, one moiety unconsumed.

Godf. His frend before him wisht the towne a fyre, Now hee would burne the cloyster: too arch-pillers![107]

Ashb. And lyke such Our purpose is to use them. Dare not, miscreant, But to give these a menace whom thou calst thyne, No not by beck or nod; if thou but styer [stir] To doo unto this howse of sanctity Damadge or outrage, I will lay thee prostrate Beneathe these staves and halberts.

Mild. Is this lawe?

Godf. Yes Staffords[108] lawe.

Ashb. Naye, feare not, pretty guerles; The fryars them selfs, weare they not at theire prayers Wold have doon more than this in just defens Of theire immunityes; but in theire absens I stand for them, nor shall you part from hence Or dare to sqeelche till they themselves be judge. Of injurye doone to this sacred place, Or such as I have sent for make appearance To clayme what thou unjustly calst thyne owne.

Godf. Nay, thou shall stand; wee have too stringes to our Bow.

Ashb. If hee but styer then stryke.

Mild. This Stafford law, Which I till nowe heard never nam'd in France, Is for the present a more fearefull coort Then chancery or star-chamber. I want motion; You have made [me] a statue, a meere Imadge.

Godf.[109] Styer and thou diest: weele maule you.

Mild. Iff heare I can have none, lett me depart To seake elcewhere for justyce.

Sarl. Keepe him prisoner, And sett mee free to finde some advocate To pleade in his just cause.

Godf. Neather styrre In payne of too Frensh crownes, and they so crack[t] Never more to passe for currant.

Ashb. That presume.

Mild. Misery of miseryes! I am bound hand and foote, And yet boath legges and armes at liberty.

Godf. Yes by the lawe cald Stafforde.

Enter Mr. Raphael, Mr. Treadway and the Clowne.

Raph. Durst then the slave use my Palestra thus, And dragge her by the heyre from sanctuary?

Clowne. Most trew, Syr.

Raph. Why did'st not kill him?

Clowne. If I had had but a swoard I had doon't, but I sought the villadge through and cold find neare a cutter.

Raph. Weare there no skattered stones lye in the streete To have beate his breynes out?

Clowne. Not a stone to throwe att a dogg.

Raph. Had'st thou not heeles

Clowne. Yes to have kickt him lyke a dogge, but I reserved them to roon the more nimbly about your busines.

Pal. I nowe spye a newe sanctuary, his armes, In which I may pursue security. My Raphael!

Raph. My Palestra, art thou safe? Beefore I give due thankes to this good man, Which tyme shall paye in all pluralityes, Oh shewe mee but that monster of mankind And shame of men on whom to bee revendgd!

Mild. The storme at sea was not more terrible Then this the land now threatens; againe undoone, Over and over wretched!

Clowne. See the limbe Of his ould syre the Devill.

Raph. Perjured slave! Perfidious, but that I abhore to take The hangman's office from him, this should open A doore by which thy black soule should fly out Unto assured damnation.

Tread. Bee more patient; Proceede with him after a legal course, And bee not sweyde by fury.

Raph. Well advys'd: What can thy false toonge pleide in thy excuse, Thou volume of all vyces?

Mild. Why, what not?

Raph. Is thy hart sear'd, thy browe made impudent, And all thy malefactions crownd[110] with lyes Against just testates and apparent truthes? When I had payde full ransom for this pryze, Why didst thou beare her hence?

Mild. I did not doo't,— These bee my witnes; have I borne her hence When I have brought her to thee?

Raph. Thy bawdes rhethorick Shall not excuse thee thus. Frends guarde him safe.

Clowne. We will see his fooles coate guarded,[111] ey and reguarded too from slipping out of our fingers.

Godf.[112] Weel finde amongst us more then ... him; fower elbowes elbowe him off all sydes, gentlemen. It shall appeare beefore hee parts with us that hee hathe shewed him self no better then a coxcomb.

Tread. Beleeve mee nowe, I do not blame my frende To fishe in trobled streames for such a pearle, Or digge in black mowled for so ritch a myne; But to redeeme a chast and inocent sowle Forthe from the fierye jawes of lust and hell, Exprest a most comended charitye. What second bewtyes that ... frend, That tremblinge flyes from his infectious ills To patronise her youth and inocence Beneathe that goode man's goodnes—

Raph. Alyke suffers With her in all distresses, lyke in years, In vertue, no way differing of our nation; Who knowes but neare all yee too?

Tread. I feele somthinge Growinge on mee, I know not howe to style, Pitty or love, synce it hath tast of boathe. And sinne itt weare such parity in all thinges, Age, mindes, wrecks, bondadge, pursiutes, injuryes Shoold nowe bee separate; the one be freede The t'other left in durance, for the want And pious tender of so smalle a somme. I somwhat have in purpose.

Raph. Dragge them boathe Before the magistrate.

Sarlab. Mee? wherefore? why?

Godf. As his abettor and ill counseller: One would have burnt the villadge, and the other Threatned to fyar the cloyster.

Raph. Boathe acts capitall And worthy seveare censure.

Mild. Though thou pleedst interest In waye of earnest in Palestra, yet Robb mee not quite, give me the tother backe, My only portion left me by the sea And stock to sett upp trade by.

Scrib. Rather torture mee With any violent deathe.

Tread. Leive them in trust And chardge of this grave reverent gentleman, Untill you heire the sentence of the coort.

Ashb. I willingly accept theire patronadge: Heere att my howse they shall have meate and harbour.

Raph. Nobly spoke: Meane tyme hale these to'th coort.

Mild. My Palestra, What? not one woord of pitye?

Raph. Stopp his mouthe.

Mild. My Scribonia, Wilt thou intreate them neather?

Tread. Tyme's but trifled; Away with them to justyce!

Mild. Take my skinne then, Synce nothinge else is left mee.

Clown. That's rotten allredy and will neather make goodd leather nor parchement ... theire.

[Exeunt.

Ashb. Com, damsalls, followe mee where I shall leade: I have a cross wyfe at home I tell you that, But one that I presume will not bee jealous Of too such harmeles sowles.

Pal. You are to us A patron and defender.

Scrib. Bounde unto you Not as an host but father.

[Exeunt.



SCENA 3.

Enter the Lord de Averne, his Lady, Dennis and the waytinge mayde.

Lord Av. Are all thinges redye as I gave in chardge?

Denys. Redy, syr.

Lord Av. Inoughe; and you deliver'd it To his owne hands?

Mayde. I did.

Lord Av. Howe did hee tak't?

Mayde. With smiles and seeminge joy.

Lord Av. Sorrowe and shame I feare will bee the sadd end on't.

Lady Av. Syr, you'r troubled.

Lord Av. I would not have you so; pray, to your rest; You shall remove mee from all jelosyes If you betake you to your sowndest sleeps, And without more inquiry.

Lady Av. Syr, remember That all offences are not woorthy deathe: Fellowny, murder, treason and such lyke Of that grosse nature maye be capitall; Not folly, error, trespasse.

Lord Av. You advyse well, Lett mee advyse you lyke-wyse: instantly Retyre in to your chamber, without noyse Reply or question, least part of that rage Is bent gainst him you turne upon your self, Which is not for your safety.

Lady Av. Syr, good night. [Exit.[113]

Lord Av. How goes the hower?

Denis. Tis almost tenn.

Lord Av. The tyme of our appointment: you attend Upon his knocks and give him free admittans; Beinge entred, refer him into this place; That doon, returne then to your Ladye's chamber There locke your self fast in.

Mayde. My lorde, I shall.— Poore fryare, I feare theyl put thee to thy penance Before they have confest thee.

Lord Av. Come, withdrawe; The watchwoordes not yet given.

Enter the Fryar with a letter.

Fr. Jhon. 'Tis her owne pen, I knwe it, synce shee sett Her hand to establishe our foundation, And, sweete soule, shee hath writt a second tyme To build mee upp anewe:—My Lord is ridd A three dayes jorney, loose not this advantadge But take tyme by the fore-topp. Yes I will By the fore-topp and topp-gallant. At the posterne Shee to whose hand you gave your letter, Fryar, Attends for your despatch:—my busines I hope shalbee despatcht then:—Fare you well, Fayle mee this night and ever. I'l sooner forfett All pleasures, hopes, preferments, with th'assurance Of a longe lyfe blest with most happy howers, Then this one night's contentment.

Mayde. Ha, who's theire? Fryar Jhon?

Fr. Jhon. The same: you, mystresse Millisent My Ladye's gentlewoman?

Mayde. I am the closett That treasures all her counsells.

Fr. Jhon. Is all cleare?

Mayde. As such a dark night can bee—to one, I feare, That scarce will looke on daye more.

Fr. Jhon. Where's my lady?

Mayde. Attends you in her chamber.

Fr. Jhon. Guide mee too't, Nay, quickly guerle:—how I allredy surfett In this nights expectation!

Mayde. Staye you heare In this withdraweinge roome, I'l fetch a light For safeguard of your shinnes.

Denis. Shee might have sayde For safeguard of his necke.

Mayde. My sceane's doone; The next act lyes amongst them. [Exit.[114]

Fr. Jhon. My part dothe but beginne nowe and I'l act it In exquisite cleane linnen; and this capp Proffred of purpose, least I should smell fryar. What differ wee i'th darke, save our shaven crowne, From gentlemen, nay Lords? nature hath araied us As well as the best layemen: why should lawe Restreyne from us what is allowed to them? Lett it curbe fooles and idiots, such as throughe folly Will not, or nycenes dare not, tast what's sweete, Alyke made for all pallats.

Lord Av. Howe the slave Insults in his damnation! cease the wretch, I can indure no lonnger.

Fr. Jhon. Such as ban Proffred delights may, if they please, refuse; What's borne with mee I will make bold to use.

Lord Av. And I what thou weart borne too, that's a halter. Pull without feare or mercy, strangle him With all his sinnes about him; t'were not else A revendge worthe my fury.

[Fry: strangled.

Dennis. I dare nowe Lodge him a whole night by my syster's syde, Hee's nowe past strompetting.

Lord Av. Tis night with him, A longe and lastinge night.

Denis. Hee lyes as quiet. You did well, Fryare, to putt on your cleane linnen; Twill serve you as a shrowde for a new grave. Whither shall wee lyft his body?

Lord Av. I am on the suddeine Growne full of thoughts; the horror of the fact Breedes strange seditions in mee.

Denis. Hee perhapps But counterfetts dead sleep. I'l hollowe to him To see if I can wake him.

Lord Av. Trifle not; The sinne will proove more serious. To a conscience Startled with blood and murder, what a terror Is in the deede, being doone, which bredd before Boathe a delight and longing! This sadd spectacle Howe itt affrights mee!

Denis. Letts remove itt then.

Lord Av. The sinne it self, the churches malediction, As doone to one of a sequestred lyfe And holly order, the lawes penalty, Being duble forfeture of lyfe and state, Reproach, shame, infamy, all these incur'd Through my inconsiderate rashnes!

Denis. My lyfe, too. Howe to prevent the danger of all these?

Lord Av. Ey, that will aske much breyne, much project.

Denis. Sir, Shall we poppe him in som privy?

Lord Av. Duble injurye, To praye upon the soule and after deathe Doo to the body such discoortesy; It neather savours of a generous spyritt Nor that which wee call manly.

Denis. Anythinge For a quiett lyfe,[115] but this same wryneckt deathe, That which still spoyles all drinkinge, 'tis a thinge I never coold indure; as you are noble Keepe still my wind pype open.

Lord Av. Out of many Museings[116] for boath our safetyes I have fownd One that's above the rest most probable.

Denis. What, what, I praye, Syr?

Lord Av. Interupt mee not: Staye I should nowe begett a stratagem To save myne owne lyfe, myne estate and goodds, Ey, and secure thee too.

Denis. 'Twere excellent, Syr.

Lord Av. I have project for all these, as willingly To lengthen boathe our lyves, and limitt us Tyme to repent his deathe.

Denis. But howe, I praye, Syr?

Lord Av. Ey, there's the difficulty; but nowe I hav't. Betwixt us and the cloyster's but one wall, And that of no greate height; coold wee in private Conveighe this fryar into the monastery, It might be then imadgind som of them Might bee his deathe's-man; which might seeme more probable Bycause, as I had late intelligens, There hathe bin stryfe amongst them.

Denis. Better still.

Lord Av. Now howe can wee incurr the least suspect? For what should hee doo from the fryary, Or what seeke heere att this unseasoned hower?

Denis. I apprehende thee; and, to further this, In the backe yard there is a ladder, Syr: Mount him upon my back, and I'l conveighe him Where som, not wee, shall answer for his death.

Lord Av. As desperate wounds still must have desperate cure, So all rash mischeiffes shuld have suddeine shiftes. Wee'I putt it to ye venter.

Denis. Mount him then; I'l once trye if the ventur of a ladder Can keepe mee from the halter.

[Exeunt.[117]

Explicit Actus 3.



Actus 4.

SCENA PRIMA.

Enter the Clowne.

Clowne. I have left a full coort behynde mee, Mildewe pleidinge of the one syde, my mayster on the other, and the lawyers fendinge and prooveinge on boathe; there's such yeallinge and ballinge, I know not whether it made any deafe to heare it, but I am suer I was almost sicke to see't. Whyle they are brablinge in the cittye I am sent backe to the villadge to cheire up the too younge mermaydes; for synce theire throates have bin rincht with salt water they singe with no lesse sweatenes. But staye; I spy a fisherman drawinge his nett upp to the shore; I'l slacke som of my speede to see how hee hathe spedd since the last tempest.

Enter the Fisherman.

Fisher. I see hee that nought venters nothinge gaynes; Hee that will bee awake when others sleepe May sometymes purchase what may give him rest, When other loyterers shalbe forct to ryse Or perish through meare want; as, for example, Although the tempest frighted hence the fishe, I have drag'd some thinge without finne or skale May make mee a good markett. Lett mee better Surveigh my pryze; 'tis of good weight I feele; Now should it bee some treasure I weare mayde.

Clowne. Which if it proove I'l half marr you or be half made with you.

Fisher. It must be gold by th'weight.

Clowne. If it bee so heavy 'tis ten to one but I'l do you the curtesye to ease you of part of your burden.

Fisher. None save myself is guilty of this pryze; 'Tis all myne owne, and I'l bee thinke mee best Howe to beestowe of this ritche magazin.

Clowne. And I am stooddiinge too with what lyne, what angle, what fisguigge[118] what castinge nett I cann share with you in this sea booty.

Fisher. I will dissemble, as most ritche men doo, Pleade poverty and speake my mayster fayre; By out my freedom for som little somme, And, beeinge myne owne man, by lands and howses; That doon, to sea I'l rigge shipps of myne owne, And synce the sea hathe made mee upp a stocke I'l venter it to sea; who knowes but I In tyme may prove a noble marchant?

Clowne. Yes of eele skinnes.—Staye you, Syrra, ho!

Fisher. I knowe no fish of that name; limpet, mullet, conger, dolphin, sharke I knowe, and place; I woold som body else had thyne; for hearinge I woold thou hadst none, nor codd; for smelt thou art too hott in my nose allredy; but such a fishe cald Syrra never came within the compasse of my nett. What art thou, a shrimpe, a dogg fish or a poore Jhon?[119]

Clowne.[120] I am one that watcht the tyde to know what thou hast caught, and have mony in my pockett to by thy draught.

Fisher. And I am one thou seest that have only an empty wett nett, but not so much as the tale of a spratte at thys tyme to sell for love of mony.

Clowne. I grant this is no Fryday and I at this tyme no cater for the fishmarkett. I only cam to desyre thy judgement and counsell.

Fisher. Go to the bench for judgment and to the lawe courts for counsell, I am free of neather, only one of Neptunes poore bastards, a spawne of the sea, and nowe gladly desyres to be rydd of thee aland.

Clowne. Onely one question resolve mee, and I have doone.

Fisher. To bee well ridd of the I care not if I loose so much tyme.

Clowne. But feythefully.

Fisher. As I am honest peeterman.[121]

Clowne. Observe mee then: I saw a theif, comitting fellony; I know the mayster of the thing was stolne, I com unto this theif, as't might bee thee, And make this covenant; eather give mee half And make mee sharer or thou forfettest all, I'l peach thee to the owner; in this case What may I justly claime?

Fisher. Rather than forfeit all I shoold yeild halfe.

Clowne. Knwe then 'tis thy case, and my case a most playne case, and concernes the booty in that cap-case.[122] I knowe the lord that wants it and the mayster that owes[123] it; boath howe it was lost and where it was lost. Com, unloose, unbuckle, unclaspe, uncase, lett's see then what fortune hathe sente us, and so part it equally beetwixt us.

Fisher. Staye, staye, my frend this my case must not be opend till your case bee better lookt into. Thou knowest who lost it, I who fownd it; thou the lord of it that was, I the owner that nowe is; thou who did possess it, I who doth injoye it; hee had it, I have it; hee might have kept it, I will keepe it; I venter'd for all, I will inherit all; and theres thy pittifull case layde open.

Clowne. First proove this to bee thyne.

Fisher. I can and by the fisherman's rethorick.

Clowne. Proceed sea-gull.

Fisher. Thus land-spaniell; no man can say this is my fishe till hee finde it in his nett.

Clowne. Good.

Fisher. What I catche is myne owne, my lands my goodds my copy-hold, my fee-simple, myne to sell, myne to give, myne to lend, and myne to cast away; no man claimes part, no man share, synce fishinge is free and the sea common.

Clowne.[124] If all bee common that the sea yeelds why then is not that as much mine as thyne?

Fisher. By that lawe, when wee bringe our fishe to the markett, if every one may freely chuse what hee lykes and take where hee lyst, wee shoold have quikly empty dorsers[125] and cleane stalls, but light purses.

Clowne. How can'st thou proove that to bee a fishe that was not bredd in the water, that coold never swimme, that hathe neather roe nor milt, scale nor finne, lyfe nor motion? Did ever man heare of a fishe cald a budgett? What shape, what collor?

Fisher. This shape, this collor, there's nowe within better then the spawne of sturgeon; I must confesse indeed, they are rarely seene, and seldom fownd; for this is the fyrst I ever catcht in all the tyme of my fishinge.

Clowne. All this sea-sophestry will not serve your turne, for where my right is deteind mee by fayre meanes I will have it by force.

Fisher. Of what I caught in the sea?

Clowne. Yes, and what I catch hold on ashore. With what consciens can'st thou denye mee part of the gaine, when the owner heareinge it is in thy custody and within my knowledge, must eather find mee a principall in the theft, or at least accessary to the fellony.

Fisher. I'l showe thee a redy waye to prevent boathe.

Clowne. How's that?

Fisher. Marry, thus: go thou quietly thy way, I'l go peacably myne; betraye thou mee to nobody, as I meane to impart to thee nothinge; seeke thy preferment by land as I have doone myne by sea; bee thou mute, I'l be dumbe; thou silent, I mumbudgett; thou dismisse mee, I'l acquitte thee; so thou art neather theife nor accessary.

Clowne. Syrrah, though you bee owner of the boate I'l steare my course at healme.

Fisher. Hands off, I saye. But hark a noyse within Letts cease our controversy till wee see [Noyse. An end of that.

Clowne. Trew, and bee judg'd by the next quiet man wee meete.

Fisher. Content.

Enter after a noyse or tumult, Ashburne, his wyfe, Palestra, Scribonia and Godfrey.

Woman. I'l not beleeve a sillable thou speak'st; False harts and false toonges go together still, They boathe are quick in thee.

Ashb. Have patience woman.

Woman. I have ben too longe a grizell. Not content To have thy hawnts abroad, where there are marts And places of lewd brothelry inoughe Wheare thou maiest wast thy body, purse and creditt, But thou wooldst make thy private howse a stewes!

Ashb. But heare me, wyfe.

Wom. I'l heare none but myselfe. Are your legges growne so feeble on the suddeine They feyle when you shoold travell to your whores, But you must bringe them home and keepe them heere Under my nose? I am not so past my sences But at this age can smell your knavery.

Pal. Good woman, heare's none suche.

Woman. Bold baggadge, peace! 'Tis not your turne to prate yet; lust and impudens I know still goe togeather.[126] Shewes it well In one thats of thy yeares and gravity, That ought to bee in lyfe and government To others an example, nowe to doate So neere the grave! to walke before his dooer With a younge payer of strumpetts at his tale! Naye, make his honest and chast wyfe no better Then a madam makarell![127]

Godfr. Why, this stormes woorse then that until'd the howse!

Ashb. But understand mee: Itt is meare pitty and no bad intent, No unchast thought but my meare charity In the remembrans of our longe lost child, To showe som love to these distressed maydens.

Woman. Sweete charity! nay, usury withall! For one chyld lost, whose goodnes might have blest And bin an honor to our family, To bringe mee home a cuple of loose thinges! I know not what to terme them, but for thee, Owld fornicator, that jad'st mee at home And yet can fend [?] a yonge colt's toothe abroad, Ould as I am myne eyes are not so dimme But can discerne this without spectacles. Hence from my gate, you syrens com from sea, Or as I lyve I'l washe your painteinges off And with hotte skaldeinge water instantly. [Exit.

Godfr. Nay then, sweeteharts, you canott staye, you have had could interteinment.

Pal. The land's to us as dreadfull as the seas, For wee are heare, as by the billows, tost From one feare to another.

Ashb. Pretty sowles, Despyer not you of comfort; I'l not leive you To the least danger till som newes returne From him that undertakes your patronadge. You, syrrah, usher them into the fryary, Whence none dares force them. I have a cross wyfe you see, And better you then I take sanctuary.

Scrib. Wee will be sweyde by you as one in whome Wee yet have fownd all goodnes.

Ashb. Leive them theere To safety, then returne.

[Ex't. ma: Ashb.[128]

Clown. What say'st thou to this gentleman?

Fisher. No man better.—Now it will go on my syde; this is my owne master, sure hee cannot bee so unatrall to give sentens against his owne natural servant.—Syr, good daye.

Ashb. Gramercyes, I in truth much suffered for thee, Knowing howe rashly thou exposd thyself To such a turbulent sea.

Clown. I likewyse, Syr, salute you.

Ashb. Thanks, good frend.

Clown. But, syr, is this your servant.[129]

Ashb. Yes, I acknowledge him; And thou I thinke belongst to Mr Raphael, Imployde about these women.

Clown. Yes I acknowledge it; but you are sure hee's yours?

Ashb. Once againe I doo confesse him myne.

Clown. Then heare mee speake.

Fisher. Heare mee your servant.[130]

Ashb. I'l heare the stranger fyrst.

Clown. In this you doo but justyce, I pray tell mee[131] ... Sea, is this a fishe or no, or if a fishe what fishe do you call it (peace you).

Ashb. It is no fishe nor fleshe.

Clowne. Nor good redd herringe—fisherman, y'r gone.

Fisher. Thou art deceav'd I am heare still, and may have heare for ought I knowe to by all the redd herringe in Marcell[es].

Clowne. Did you ever heare of a fishe cal'd a budgett?

Ashb. I protest never synce I knew the sea.

Clowne. You are gone againe fisherman.

Fisher. I am heare still; and now, master, heare mee.

Clowne. Lett mee proceede. This bagge, this knapsacke, or this portmanteau hee woold make a fishe bycause tooke in his nett. Nowe, syr, I com to you with this ould proverbe, all's not fishe that com's to nett.—There you are, gone againe.

Fisher. But—

Clowne. No butt, nor turbutt. I suspect this budgett to be the bawde's, in which are the discoveryes of this yonge woman's coontry and parents. Now, syr, for their sakes, for my masters sake, for all our sakes use the authority of a mayster to searche, and showe the power you have over a servant to comand.

Ashb. Will hee or not, hee shall assent to that.

Clowne. A meere trick to undoo mee, ere I knwe What I am wanting.

Ashb. Call in the damseles, Intreate them fayrely heather; say wee hope We shall have good newes for them.

Fisher. I will part with it only on this condition, that if there bee nothinge in it which concernes them, the rest may returne to mee unrifled and untutcht.

Ashb. Did it conteyne the valew of a myne I clayme no part in it.

Fisher. Nor you?

Clowne. Nor I.

Fisher. By the contents of this budgett.

Clowne. I sweare.

Ashb. I vowe.

Fisher. Then there tak't to you, mayster, and once more Good lucke on my syde!

Enter Godfrey, usheringe in Palestra and Scribonia.

Palest, You sent to speake with us?

Ashb. I did indeed, Saye, knowe you this? y'have leave, surveigh it well.

Pal. This? knowe I this? oh, my Scribonia, see! Yes, and by this alone may knowe myself. Looke well upon't, deare syster; extasy May dimme myne eyes, it cannot purblind thyne.

Scrib. Itt is the same, Palestra.

Fisher. Then sure I shall not bee the same man in the afternoone that I was in the morninge.

Scrib. In this is a greate masse of wealthe included, All that the bawde hath by corruption gott In many a thrifty yeare.

Fisher. Comfort for mee.

Ashb. But tell me is there ought of yours included, Which you may justly chalendge?

Pal. Of that gould No not the valewe of one poor deneere:[132] 'Tis all base brokadge boathe of sinne and shame Of which wee neare weare guilty; yet inclosed There shall you find a cabinet of myne, Where boathe my naturall parents you may see In a small roome intended.

Fisher. An unatrall child thou art to trust thy naturall parents into a leatheren bagge and leave them in the bottom of y'e sea.

Pal. Showe mee the caskett: if before you ope it I do not name you every parcell in't Lett it no more bee myne, mak't your own pryse; But such small trifles as I justly chalenge And cannot yeeld you the least benefitt, Of them let mee bee mystresse, synce they are The somme and crowne of all my future hopes, But from my tender infancy deteined. As for the gould and Jewells mak't your spoyle; Of that I clayme no portione.

Fisher. I accept of the condition.

Ashb. Itt is boathe just and honest; we'll have no juggling, And, Gripus, synce the busines concernes you, Have you a curious ey too't.

Fisher. Feare not mee, for boathe at sea and land I was ever a goodd marksman.

Ashb. The caskett is nowe open'd: what coms fyrste?

Pal. Above, the clothes in which I fyrst was swathde, The linnen fyrst worne in myne infancy.

Ashb. These are child's swathinges; whether thyne or no It is to mee uncertaine. To the rest.

Pal. And next to these is a ritche handkercher, Where you shall find in golden letters wrought My place of byrthe, myne and my father's name.

Ashb. Heare's such a handkercher, such letters workt: Speake them, as I shall reade them.

Pal. Mirable.

Ashb. Right! Myrable.

Pal. Daughter of Jhon Ashburne, merchant.

Ashb. Trewe: of Jhon Ashburne merchant—Oh my sowle! —Proceed, prithee proceede.

Pal. And borne in Christ-chyrch, London, Anno—

Ashb. 160(?)0.[133] Oh you Imortall powers. I stagger yet Beetwixt despayer and hope, and canott guesse Which weye my fate will swaye mee; oh speake, speake! Thy mothers name?

Pal. Reade it in sylver letters pleynly wrought In the next Imbrodered Linnen.

Ashb. If that fayle not I have a firme rock to build upon.— The guift of Isabell to her daughter Mirable.— Oh frend, oh servant!

Clown. How is't, syr?

Fisher. How now, mayster?

Ashb. I that so many yeares have been despoyl'd, Neclected, shattered, am made upp againe, Repaired, and new created.

Pal. Search but further And there's a golden brooch in it, a diamond, Upon my byrthday geven mee by my father.

Ashb. I have longe sought and nowe at lengthe have found That diamond, thee my doughter.

Pal. How, syr?

Ashb. Shee that so late excluded thee my house And shutt these gates against thee, Isabell Thy mother, these weare her owne handyworkes Bestowde upon thee in thyne infancy To make us nowe boathe happy in thy yoouth. I am Jhon Ashburne marchant, London, Christ Church; The yeare, place, tyme agree thee to bee myne, Oh merher [mirror] of thy sex, my Myrable!

Pal. This surplusadge of joy should not bee forged.

Ashb. No more than these noates are infalleble.

Pal. Thus then in all Humility I kneele To you my acknowledgd father.

Ashb. Ryse, my guerle.

Fisher. Had I not drawne this leeward out of the sea, where had it bin? all drownd by this.

Ashb. No triflinge nowe: post, Godfrey, to my wyfe, Tell her no more then thou hast heard and seene: Shee's hard of faythe, relate it punctually, Beare her (oh lett me borrowe them so longe) These better to confirme her; bid her hast, And for the truth add these as testimony:— Nay, art thou heare still?

Godf. Lyke a shadowe vanisht, But to returne a substance. [Exit Godfrey.[134]

Ashb. Oh my deare doughter!—where's young Raphael's man Beare him of all what thou hast seene a perfect And trew relation.

Clowne. Ay, syr.

Ashb.[135] Bidd him too, All business sett apart, make hether.

Clown. Ay, syr.

Ashb. Tell him that his Palestra is my Mirable.

Clown. Ay, syr.

Ashb. And that shee is my doughter, my lost child.

Clowne. Ay, syr.

Ashb. And that of all this I am most assur'd.

Clown. Ay, syr.

Ashb. Thou wilt not doo all this?

Clown. I will, you lye, syr.

Ashb. Howe, syr.

Cl. Ay, syr.

Ashb. Saye that this daye shee shalbee made his wyfe.

Cl. Ay, syr.

Ashb. Why then add winges unto your heeles and fly, syr.

Cl. Ay syr, but ere I take my flight, for this good servyce You'll mediate with him for my freedom?

Ashb. So.

Cl. And woo your doughter to doo so too?

Ashb. So.

Cl. And, syr, to him I shalbee thankefull.

Ashb. So.

Cl. Your doughters and your servant ever.

Ashb. So.

Cl. To go, roonne, ryde of all your arrants.

Ashb. So.

Cl. In all this you'l bee slack in nothinge?

Ashb. So.

Cl. And you'l heareafter love mee still?

Ashb. So, so.

Cl. Howe, but so, so?

Ashb. Yes, so and so and so.

Cl. Why, then I go, go, goe. [Exit Clown.

Ashb. But one thinge I intreate you, Mirable: This thyrteene yeares, since by rude creditors Tost and opprest, nay rent out of myne owne, I have bin forct to seeke my fate abroad, Howe weare you ravisht thence, or since that tyme What strange adventures past?

Enter Godfrey, and the wyfe with the handkercher.

Mirable. My mother's presence Must now prevent my answer.

Wyfe. Where is shee? oh wheare, wheare? for by these tokens, These of her childhood most unfallid signes, I knwe her for my doughter.

Mir. I have bene The longe and wretched owner of that cabinet With all therein contein'd.

Wyfe. Into thy boosom Oh lett mee rayne a shower of joyfull teares To welcom thee, my Mirable.

Godf. You threatned her but nowe with skaldinge water; mee thinks you had more neede to comfort her with hott waters, for sure shee canott bee warme synce shee came so late out of the could bathe.

Wyf. Make fyares, bid them make ready wholesom brothes, Make warme the bedd, and see the sheetes well ayred. Att length then have I fownd thee?

Ashb. But what's shee That's in thy fellow-shippe?

Mir. My fellowe sharer In all misfortunes; and for many yeares So deere to mee, I canot tast a blessednes Of which shee's not partaker.

Wyfe. For thy sake Shee shall bee myne too, and (in her) I'l thinke The powers above have for my single losse Given mee at lengthe a duble recompense.

Scrib. For which hee that protects all inocence Will in good tyme reward you.

Wyfe. Praye, in, in; This could is prejuditiall to your Healthes. I'l count you boathe my twinnes.

[Ext. Wife, Palestra, and Scribonia.

Ashb. Strange alteration! Skoldinge is turn'd to pittye, spleen and mallyce To mercye and compassion.

Fisher. But your promisse Tutchinge my budgett?

Ashb. Godfreye, beare it in And lodge it safe; there's no tyme for that; We'll talke of it herafter.

Godf. Fellow Gripus, I am made for this tyme porter. Ladeys, your trusty treasurer. [Ext. Ashbourne and Godfrey.

Gripus. These are the fishermen and I the fishe catcht in the nett; well my comfort is, thoughe my booty have made me no ritcher then I was, poorer then I am I canott bee. Nowe[136] wherein is the ritche more happy then the poore? I thinke rather lesse blessed and that shall approue by this excellent good ballet, thoughe sett to a scurvy tune.

Lett ech man speake as he's possest I hold the poore man's state most blest. For if longe lyfe contentment bredes, In that the poore the ritche exceedes;

The ritch man's dayes are short, as spent In pleasures and supposed content; Whylst to us poore men care and troble Makes every hower wee wast seeme duble.

He that hathe ech daye to his backe Chandge of gaye suites, whylst wee alacke Have but one coate, that coorse and ould, Yet it defends us from the could;

As warme too in an equll eye As they in all theere purple dye; 'Mongst all theere store, they weare, we see, But one at once, and so do wee.

The ritche that at his table feasts With choyse of dayntyes, sundry guests, In all his plenty can but fill One belly; so the poore can still

With cheese and onions and disguest[137] As well with them as th'others feast. The pesent with his homespoon lasse As many merry howers may passe

As coortiers with there sattin guerles, Though ritchly dect in gould and pearles; And, though but pleyne, to purpose wooe, Nay ofttymes with lesse danger too.

And yet for all this I have one crotchett left in my fate to bate a new hooke for the gold in the portmanteau.

[Exit.



Actus 4to.

SCENA 3A.

Enter Dennis with the Fryar from aboue upon his backe.

Den. Whether a knavishe or a sinneful load, Or one or bothe I know not; massye it is, And if no frend will for mee,[138] I'l bee sorry For myne owne heavinesse. And heare's a place, Though neather of the secretest nor the best, To unlade myself of this Iniquity. When I satt late astryde upon the wall, To lyft the ladder this waye for descent, Mee thought the fryar lookt lyke S George a horsback And I his trusty steede. But nowes no triflynge: Hee's[139] where hee is in Comons, wee discharged, Boathe of suspect and murther; which lett the covent To-morrowe morninge answere howe they cann. I'I backe the waye wee came; what's doon, none sawe I'th howse nor herde; they answer then the Lawyer. [Exit.

Enter Fryar Richard.

Fr. R. Of all Infirmityes belonginge to us I hould those woorst that will not lett a man Rest in his bedd a-nights. And I of that, By reason of a late could I have gott, Am at this instant guilty; which this rushinge From a warme bedd in these wild frosty nights Rather augments then helpes; but all necessityes Must bee obeyde. But soft, there's one before mee: By this small glimpse of moone light I perceave him To bee Fryar Jhon, my antient adversary.[140] Why Jhon? why Jhon? what! not speake! why, then I see 'tis doon of malyce, and of purpose Only to shame mee, since hee knowes the rest Take notyce what a loose man I am growne. Nay prithee, sweete fryar Jhon, I am in hast, Horrible hast; doo but release mee nowe, I am thy frend for ever. What! not heare! Feigne to bee deaf of purpose, and of slight! Then heare is that shall rouse you. Are you falne? [Eather[141] strykes him with a staffe or casts a stone. What, and still mute and sylent? nay, not styrr? I'l rowse you with a vengance! not one limbe To doo his woonted offyce, foot nor hand? Not a pulse beatinge, no breathe? what no motion? Oh mee of all men lyvinge most accurst! I have doon a fearefull murder, which our former Inveterate hate will be a thousand testats That I for that insidiated his lyfe. The deedes apparant and the offens past pardon. There's nowe no waye but fly: but fly! which way? The cloyster gates are all bar'd and fast lockt; These suddeine mischieffes shuld have suddeine shifts. About it breyne and in good tyme. I hate![142] Suspitious rumors have bene lately spread And more then whispered of th'incontinent love Fryar Jhon boare to the knight's Lady. Had I meanes Howe to conveighe his body o'er the wall To any or the least part of the howse, It might bee thought the knight in jelosy Had doone this murder in a just revendge. Let me surveighe th'ascent: happy occation! To see howe redy still the devill is To helpe his servants! heare's a ladder left: Upp, Fryare, my purpose is to admitt you nowe Of a newe cloyster. I will sett his body Upright in the knights porche and leave my patron To answer for the falt, that hath more strength Then I to tugge with Benches. [Exit. Carry him up.

Enter the knight, half unredy, his Lady after him.

D'Avern. Ho, Denis!

Lady. Give mee reason, I intreate, Of these unquiet sleepes.

D'Av. You dogg mee, Lady, Lyke an Ill genius.

Lady. You weare woont to call mee Your better angel.

D'Av. So I shall doo still, Would you beetake you to your quiet sleepes And leave mee to my wakinges.

Lady. There beelonges Unto one bedd so sweete a sympathy, I canott rest without you.

D'Av. To your chamber! There may growe els a woorse antypathy Beetwixt your love and myne: I tell you, Lady, Myne is no woman's busines. No reply: Your least insured presence att this tyme Will but begett what you would loathe to beare, Quarrell and harshe unkindnes.

Lady. Ever your lipps Have bene too mee a lawe.—I suspect more Then I would apprehend with willingnes; But though prevention canott helpe what's past, Conjugall faythe may expresse itself at last. [Exit Lady.

D'Av. Why, Denis, ho! awake and ryse in hast!

Denis. What, is your Lordshipp madd!

D'Av. Knowest thou what's past And canst thou skape this danger?

Denis. Did I not tell you That all was safe, the body too disposed Better then in his grave?

D'Av. Strange thoughts sollicite mee. Upp and inquire about the cloyster wall What noyse thou hearest, if any private whisperinge Or louder uprore 'bout the murder ryse.

Denis. I shall, I shall, Syr. [Exit Dennis.

D'Av. Guilt, thoughe it weare a smooth and peacefull face, Yet is within full of seditious thoughts That makes continuall follie. [Exit.

Enter Fryar Richard with Fryar Jhon upon his backe.

Fr. Rich. This is the porch that leades into the hall; Heare rest for thyne and myne own better ease. This havinge done, to prevent deathe and shame By the same stepps I'l back the way I came.

[Fryer sett up and left. Exit.

Enter Denis half unredy.

Denis. This is the penalty belonges to servyce: Masters still plott to theire owne private ends, And wee that are theire slaves and ministers Are cheef still in the troble; they ingrosse The pleasure and the proffitt, and wee only The swett and payne. My Lord hath doon a mischeef And nowe I must not sleepe.—What art thou? None of the howse sure, I should knwe thy face then: Beesydes my Lord gives no such lyverye. Nowe in the name of heaven, what art thou? speake, Speake if thou beest a man! or if a ghost Then glyde hence lyke a shadowe! tis the—oh!— The fryar hathe nimbly skipt back over the wall, Hath lyke a surly Justyce bensht himself And sitts heare to accuse uss! where's my Lord? Helpe, Helpe! his murdered ghost is com from Hell On earth to cry Vindicta![143]

Enter L. D'Averne.

D'Av. What clamors this?

Denis. Oh Syr—

D'Av. Why, howe is't, Denis?

Denis. Never woorse—the fryar, Syr—

D'Av. What of him?

Denis. The slave that would not leive the place but carried, Is of himself com back.

D'Av. Whether?

Denis. Looke theere.

D'Av. That which I took to bee meare fantasy I finde nowe to bee real; murder is A cryinge sinne, and canot be conceal'd. Yet his returne is straunge.

Denis, 'Tis most prodigious; The very thought of it hath put a cricke Into my necke allredy.

D'Av. One further desperate tryall I will make And putt it too adventer.

Denis. Pray hows that, Syr?

D'Av. There's in my stable an ould stallion, once A lusty horse but now past servyce.

Denis. Godd [sic], syr.

D'Av. Him I'l have sadled and capparisond. Heare in the hall a rusty Armor hanges, Pistolls in rotten cases, an ould sword, And a cast lance to all these sutable. I'l have them instantly tooke downe.

Den. And then?

D'Av. In these I'l arme the fryar from head to knee; Mount him into his saddle, with stronge cords There bind him fast, and to his gauntlet hand Fasten his lance; for basses[144] tis no matter, These his grey skyrts will serve. Thus arm'd, thus mounted, And thus accoutred, with his beiver upp, Turne him out of the gates, neither attended With squire or page, lyke a stronge knight adventures To seeke a desperate fortune.

Denis. Hee may so if hee please Ryde post unto the Devill.

D'Av. This I'l see doone, 'Tis a decree determinde.

Denis. Capp a pe I'l see him arm'd and mounted.

[Exeunt.

Enter Fryar Richard.

Fr. R. This murder canott bee so smothered upp But I in th'end shall paye for't; but feare still Is wittye in prevention. Nowe for instance There's but one refuge left mee, that's to flye: The gates are shutt upon mee and myself Am a badd foottman, yet these difficultyes I can thus helpe; there to this place beelonges A mare that every second d[a]yes' imployde To carry corne and fetch meele from the mill, Distant som half league off; I by this beast Will fashion myne escape.—What, baker, ho!

Within Baker. What's hee that calls so early?

Fr. R. I, Fryar Richard.

Baker. What would you have that you are stirringe thus An hower before the Dawne.

Fr. Rich. I cannott sleepe And understandinge there's meale redy ground, Which thou must fetch this morninge from the mill, I'l save thee so much pey[n]es. Lend mee the beast, And lett mee forthe the gate; I'l bringe boathe back Ere the bell ringe for mattens.

Baker. Marry, Fryar Richard, With all my hart, and thanke yee. I'l but ryse And halter her, then lett you forthe the gate; You'l save mee so much labour.

Fr. Rich. This falls out As I coold wishe, and in a fortunate hower; For better then to too legges trust to fower.

Explicit Actus 4.



Act 5.

SCENE PRIMA.

Enter Thomas Ashburne the younger brother to John, a merchant, with one of the Factors.[145]

Thomas. Are all things safe abord?

Factor. As you can wish, sir; And notwithstandinge this combustious stryfe Betwixt the winds and Seas, our ship still tight, No anchor, cable, tackle, sayle or mast Lost, though much daunger'd; all our damadge is That where our puerpose was for Italy We are driven into Marcellis.

Thomas. That's myne unhappines That beinge come upon a brother's quest Longe absent from his country, who of late After confinement, penury, distresse Hath gained a hopefull fortune, and I travelling To beare him tydeinges of a blest estate Am in my voyage thwarted.

Factor. In what province Resydes hee at this present?

Thomas. His last letters That I receav'd weare dated from Leagahorne; Nowe wee by this infortnate storme are driven Into Marcellis roads.

Factor. For the small tyme Of our abode heare what intend you, Sir?

Thomas. To take in victuall and refresh our men, Provyde us of thinges needefull, then once more With all the expeditious hast wee can Sett sayle for Florens.

Factor. Please you, Sir, I'l steward well that busines.

Thomas. I'th meanetyme I shall find leisure to surveigh the towne, The keyes, the temples, forts and monuments; For what's the end of travell but to better us In judgment and experiens? What are these? Withdrawe and give them streete-roome.

Enter Raphael, Treadeway and the Clowne.

Raph. Hath my Palestra fownd her parents then?

Clowne. As sure as I had lost you.

Raph. And free borne?

Clowne. As any in Marcellis.

Raph. Englishe, sayst thou?

Clowne. Or Brittishe, which you please.

Raph. Her trew name Mirable And Ashburne's doughter?

Clowne. Suer as yours is Raphaels And Tread-wayes his.

Thomas. Mirable and Ashburne!

Factor. Names that concerne you, Sir.

Thomas. Peace, listen further.

Raph. Thou with these woords hast extasyde my sowle And I am all in rapture. Then hee's pleasd Wee too shalbee contracted?

Clowne. 'Tis his mynd, Sir.

Raph. The moother, too, consents?

Clowne. So you shall finde, Sir.

Raph. And Mirable pleasd, too?

Clowne. Shes so inclind, Sir.

Raph. And this the very day?

Clowne. The tyme assignd, Sir.

Raph. Shee shalbee suerly myne.

Clowne. As vowes can bind, Sir.

Raph. Thou sawest all this?

Clowne. I am suer I was not blind, Sir.

Raph. And all this shall bee done?

Clown. Before you have din'd, Sir.

Raph. Oh, frend, eather pertake with mee in Joy And beare part of this surplus, I shall else Dye in a pleasinge surfett.

Tread. Frend, I doo Withall intreate you interceade for mee To your fayre loves companion, for if all Th'estate I have in France can by her freedom, Shee shall no longer faynt beneathe the yoake Of lewdnes and temptation.

Raph. The extent Of that fyxt love I ever vowde to thee Thou in this act shall find.

Tread. And it shall seale it, Beyond all date or limitt.

Raph. Come, hasten, frend, methinks at lengthe I spy After rough tempests a more open skye.

[Exeunt[146] Raphael and Treadway.

Clowne. And I will after you home, Syr, Since so merrily blowes the wind, Sir.

Thomas. Staye, frend, I am a stranger in these parts And woold in one thinge gladly bee resolved.

Clowne. I am in haste.

Thomas. That little leasure thou bestowest on mee I shalbee gladd to pay for; nay, I will. Drinke that for my sake.

Clowne. Not this, Syr, as it is; for I can make a shifte to dissolve hard mettall into a more liquid substance. A cardeq![147] oh Syr, I can distill this into a quintessence cal'd Argentum potabile.[148]

Thomas. I heard you name one Ashburne; can you bring mee To th'sight of such a man?

Clowne. Easily I can, Syr. But for another peice of the same stampe, I can bringe you to heare him, to feele him, to smell, to tast him, and to feede upon him your whole fyve senses.

Thomas. There's for thee, though I have no hope at all To finde in France what I in Florens seeke. And though my brother have no child alyve, As longe synce lost when I was rob'd of myne, Yet for the namesake, to my other travells I'l add this little toyle, though purposeles. I have about mee letters of Import Dyrected to a merchant of that name For whose sake (beeinge one to mee intyred) I only crave to see the gentleman.

Clowne. Beleeve mee Syr I never love to jest, with those that beforehand deale with me in earnest. Will you follow mee?

Thomas. Prooves hee my brother, and his dowghter found, Lost by my want of care, (which canott bee All reasons well considered) and I so happy To bringe him newes of a recovered state, Who to his foes so longe hathe been a prey, I'd count my monthes and years but from this day.

[Exeunt.



SCENE 2.

Enter at one door D'Averne, and Dennis with the Fryar armed. At the other Fryar Richard and the Baker.

D'Averne. So nowe all's fitt, the daylight's not yet broake; Mount him and lock him in the saddle fast, Then turn him forthe the gates.

Dennis. Pray, Syr, your hand to rayse him.

D'Av. Nowe lett him post, whether his fate shall guide him.

[Exeunt.

Ent. Rich. and Baker.

Baker. The mare's ready.

Fr. R. Only the key to ope the cloyster gate, Then all is as it shoold be.

Baker. Tak't, there tis. But make hast, good Fryar Richard; you will else Have no new bredd to dinner.

Fr. R. Feare not, baker; I'l proove her mettall. Thus I back one mare Least I shoold ryde another. [Exit.

Baker. It is the kindest novyce of my consciens That ere woare hood or coole.

[A noyse within. Trampling of Horses.

What noyse is that? now by the Abbot's leave I will looke out and see. [Clere.

Enter Averne and Dennis.

D'Av. Howe nowe? the newes? The cause of that strange uprore?

Den. Strange indeed, But what th'event will bee, I cannott guesse.

D'Av. Howe is it, speake.

Den. I had no sooner, as your Lordshipp badd, Putt him upon his voyadge, turn'd him out, But the ould resty stallion snuft and neighd, And smelt, I thinke, som mare, backt (I perceavd By the moone light) by a Fryar, in whose pursuite Our new made horseman with his threatninge lance, Pistolles, and rotten armor made such noyse That th'other, frighted, clamours throughe the streetes Nothinge but deathe and murder.

D'Av. But the sequell?— The clamour still increasethe. [Noyse.

Enter the Baker rooninge.

Baker. Oh never, never, Was seene such open mallyce!

Den. What's the busines?

Baker. Give mee but leave to breath—Oh especially in a cloyster!

Den. Out wee't, man.

Baker. The novyce Richard, to save mee a labour, Borrowed my mare to fetch meale for the mill. I knowe not howe the devill Fryar Jhon knew't, But all in armor watch't him gooinge out And after spurrs to chardge him, beeinge unarmd, 0 suer if hee cannott reatch him with his lance Hee'l speede him with his pistolls.

Denis. All's well yet. [Noyse.

Baker. This noyse hath cal'd much people from there bedds, And troobled the whole villadge.

Fr. R. (within). Hold, hold, I do confesse the murder.

Baker. Suer hee hath slayne him, for murder is confest.

D'Av. Tis better still.

Enter Ashburne, Godfrey, &c.

Godf. Was never knowne the lyke!

Baker. Is Ritchard slayne? I sawe Fryar Jhon, arm'd dreadfully with weapons Not to be worne in peace, pursue his lyfe; All which I'l tell the abbott. [Exit Baker.

Ashb. Most strange it is that the pursude is fownd To bee the murderer, the pursuer slayne. Howe was it, Godfrey? thou wast upp beefore mee And canst discoorse it best.

Godfr. Thus, Syr: at noyse of murder, with the tramplinge Of horse and ratlinge armor in the streetes, The villadgers weare wakend from there sleepes; Som gap't out of there windowes, others venter'd Out of theere doores; amongst which I was one That was the foremost, and saw Ritchard stopt At a turninge lane, then overtooke by Jhon; Who not him self alone, but even his horse Backing the tother's beast, seemd with his feete To pawe him from his saddle; att this assault Friar Richard cryes, hold, hold and haunt mee not For I confesse the murder! folke came in Fownd th'one i'th sadle dead, the t'other sprallinge Upon the earthe alyve, still cryinge out That hee had doun the murder.

D'Av. Exellent still; withdrawe, for wee are saffe.

Enter the Abbott, the baker, Fryar Richard, prisoner and guarded, &c.[149]—

Abbott. These mischeefes I foretould; what's mallyce elsse Than murder halff comitted? though th'event Bee allmost above apprehension strange, Yet synce thyne owne confession pleades thee guilty Thou shalt have leagall tryall.

Fr. Rich. I confess I was the malefactor and deserve Th'extremity of Lawe; but woonder much Howe hee in such a short tyme after death Should purchase horse and weapons.

Abbot. Murder's a sinne Which often is myraculously reveal'd. Lett justyce question that; beare him to prison, The t'other to his grave.

Baker. Beeinge so valiant after deathe mee thinkes hee deserves the honor to bee buried lyke a knight in his compleate armor.

Abbot. These thinges shoold not bee trifled. Honest frendes, Retyre you to your homes; these are our chardge. Wee will acquaint our patron with this sadd And dyre desaster; fyrst his counsell use, Next as wee maye our Innocens excuse.

[Exeunt.



SCENA 3, ET ULTIMA.

Enter Mildewe and Sarleboyes.[150]

Mild. May the disease of Naples now turn'd Frensh Take bothe the Judge and Jurors! they have doomd The fayre Palestra from mee.

Sarl. So they had Scribonia too, and mulcted us beesydes, But that in part they did comiserate Our so greate losse by sea.

Mild. This is the curse Belonges to all us bawdes: gentle and noble, Even th'ouldest fornicator, will in private Make happy use of us with hugges and brybes; But let them take us at the publick bench, Gainst consciens they will spitt at us and doome us Unto the post and cart. Oh the coruptnes Of these dissemblinge letchers!

Sarlab. 'Tis well yet You have reserved one virgin left for sale; Of her make your best proffitt.

Mild.[151] A small stocke To rayse a second fortune; yet com, frend, Wee will go seeke her out.

Enter Gripus the Fisherman.

Fisher. No budgett to bee com by; my ould mayster, Hee stands on consciens to deliver it To the trew owner, but I thinke in consciens To cheate mee and to keepe it to him selfe; Which hee shall never doo, to prevent which I'l openly proclayme it. [Oh yes! If any userer or base exacter, Any noble marchant or marchant's factor, Bee't marchant venterer or marchant Taylor Bee hee Mr. Pilot, botswyne or saylor—

Enter Godfrey to them.

Godf. Hist, Gripus, hyst!

Fish. Peace, fellowe Godfrey. I'l now play the blabber.— If eather passinger owner or swabber[152] That in the sea hathe lost a leather budgett And to the Dolphins, whales or sharkes, doth grudge itt—

Godf. Wilt thou betraye all? I'I go tell my mayster.

Fish. Yes, Godfrey, goe and tell him all and spare not, I am growne desperate; if thou dost I care not.

Mild. Hee talkt of a leatheren budgett lost at sea; More of that newes would please mee.

Fish. Bee hee a Cristian or beleeve in Mawmett[153] I such a one this night tooke in my drawnett.

Mild. My soone, my child, nay rather, thou young man, I'l take thee for my father, for in this Sure thou hast new begott mee.

Fish. Blessing on thee! But shoold I have a thousand children more, I almost durst presume I never should have Another more hard favored.

Mild. Thou art any thinge. But hast thou such a budgett?

Fisher. Syr, I have And new tooke from the sea. What woldst thou give And have it safe?

Mild. I'l give a hundred crownes.

Fish. Tush, offer me a sowse[154] but not in th'eare; I will barr that afore hand.

Mild. And all safe, I'l give thee then too hondred.

Fish. Offer me a cardeq!

Mild. Three hondred, 4, nay fyve So nothinge bee diminisht.

Fish. I will have A thousand crowns or nothinge.

Mild. That growes deepe.

Fish. Not so deepe as the sea was.

Mild. Make all safe, And I will give a thousand.

Fish. Tis a match, But thou wilt sweare to this.

Mild. Give mee myne othe.

Fish. If, when first I shall beehold My leatheren bagge that's stuft with gould, At sight thereof I paye not downe To Gripus every promist crowne— Now say after mee. May Mildewe I in my best age.

Mild. May Mildewe I in my best age.

Fish. Dy in some spittle, stocks or cage.[155]

Mild. Dy in some spittle stocks or cage.

Fish. I'l keepe my promisse, fayle not thou thine oathe. So inn and tell my mayster. [Exit Fisherman.

Mild. Yes, bawdes keepe oaths! t'must bee in leap-yeare then, Not now; what wee sweare weel forsweare agen.

Enter Ashburne, Godfrey, and Gripus, to 'em.

Ashb. And hee in that did well, for Heaven defend I shoold inritche mee with what's none of myne. Where is the man that claymes it?

Grip. Heare's my sworne soon, that but even now acknowledgd mee to bee his father.

Ashb. Knowest thou this?

Mild. Yes for myne owne. I had thought, lyke one forlorne, All fortune had forsooke mee, but I see My best dayes are to com. Welcom my lyfe! Nay if there bee in any bawde a sowle This nowe hath mett the body.

Ashb. All's theire safe Unrifled, naye untutcht, save a small caskett With som few trifles of no valewe in't, Yet to mee pretious, synce by them I have fownd My one and only doughter.

Mild. Howes that, pray?

Ashb. Thus; thy Palestra is my Mirable.

Mild. Now may you to your comfort keepe the guerle, Synce of my wealthe I am once againe possest. I heare acquitt you of all chardges past Due for her education.

Ashb. You speake well.

Grip. It seemes you are possest, and this your owne.

Mild. Which I'l knowe howe I part with.

Grip. Com quickly and untrusse.

Mild. Untrusse, Syr? what?

Grip. Nay if you stand on poynts,[156] my crowns, my crowns: Com tell them out, a thousand.

Mild. Thousand deathes I will indure fyrst! synce I neather owe thee Nor will I paye thee any thinge.

Grip. Didst thou not sweare?

Mild. I did, and will againe If it bee to my profit, but oathes made Unto our hurt wee are not bound to keepe.

Ashb. What's that you chalendge, Gripus.

Grip. Not a sowse lesse Then a full thousand crownes.

Ashb. On what condition?

Grip. So much hee vowed and swore to paye mee downe At sight of this his budgett; a deneere I will not bate; downe with my dust, thou perjurer.

Ashb. But did hee sweare?

Mild. Suppose it, saye I did.

Ashb. Then thus I saye, oathes ta'ne advisedly Ought to bee kept; and this I'l see performed, What's forfett to my man is due to mee; I claime it as my right; these your bawdes fallacyes In this shall no weye helpe you, you shall answer it Now as a subject and beefore the judge.

Mild. If I appeare in coort I am lost againe; Better to part with that then hazard all. These bagges conteine fyve hundred pownds apeece, Tak't and the pox to boot.

Grip. And all these myne?

Godf. Would I might have a share in't.

Ashb. Nowe tell mee, Mildewe, howe thou ratest the freedome Of th'other virgin yonge Scribonia, Companion with my dowghter?

Mild. I am weary Of this lewde trade; give mee fyve hundred crownes And take her; I'l gie't over now in tyme Ere it bringe mee to the gallowes.

Ashb. There's for her ransom; she's from henceforthe free.

Grip. Howe, Syr?

Ashb. These other, Gripus, still belonge to thee Towards the manumission.

Enter at one doore Palestra, Scribonia; at the other Raphael, Treadway, Thomas Ashburne and the Clowne.

Raph. If all bee trewe my man related to mee I have no end of Joy.

Ash. This is my Mirable, My doughter and freeborne; and if you still Persist the same man you profest your self, Beehold shee is your wyfe.

Raph. You crowne my hopes.

Mir. This very day hathe made mee full amends For many yeares of crosses.

Tread. Nowe my suite.

Raph. Nor are my expectations yet at heighte Before my frend bee equally made blest In this fayer damsell's love.

Tread. To accomplishe which If all the wealth that I injoye by land, Or what at Sea's in ventur, will but purchase With her release a tye of love to mee, This hower it shalbe tenderd.

Ashb. Offer'd fayrely; But knwe, syr, could you winne her to your wishes, She shall not lyke a bondemaide come to ye; Fyve hundred crownes are tenderd downe all redy (Unknowne to her) for her free liberty.