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.