Raphael.  Nwe [Now] in the villaige by, that fronts the sea,
Som halff league off where stands the monastery,
I have bespoake a place to sojorn her. 
There I this evening do intend[58] a feast
Where only wee and som fewe private frends
Have purpost to bee jhoviall.  To that place
I prithee, with what pryvacy thou canst,
Conduct her and so add unto our guests.

Mildewe.  The place I knwe, the tyme is perfect with mee, And for the feast you saye you have prepared I shall provyde a stomacke.

Raphael.  Her caskett, and such other necessaryes
Included in our bargen, bring alonge
Or lett her mayde do’ot for thee.

Mildewe.  I’l not bate her A ruff or ragge; no pinne that’s usefull too her Will I keepe backe.

Raphael.  To this you are witnes, frend.

Treadway.  I am, Syr.

Mildewe.  So’s my guest.

Clowne.  And lookes as if with me Hee only could write witlesse.

Raphael.  Supper tyme You will remember, Mildewe.

Mildewe.  Possible I should forgett to eate of others’ cost?  It never was my custom.

Clowne.  Choake you for’t.

Raphael.  Come, frend, mee thinks I have doone a deede this day Crownes all my better actions, for I have raised An Innocent from the hands of an Infidell agent.

Clowne.  Farewell, rott, farewell murreine, adiewe.

Mildewe.  Farewell till soone.

[Exeunt Raphael, Treadway, and Clowne.

Sarleb.  And do you meane to keepe your promisse then, And doo as you have sayde?

Mildewe.  Why not, I prithee?  What else canst thou advyse mee?

Sarleb.  Are not wee
Boathe of a rotten conscience, men debosht,
Secluded from the company of such
As either are or else would stryve to bee
Reputed honest? wherefore then should wee
Keepe tutche with any that professe themselves
Not to bee of our ranke?

Mildewe.  Proceede, good frend:  Thou hast putt project in my brayne allredy, Small tyme woold better fashion.

Sarleb.  What if I Laye such a plotte that you shall gayne these crownes These full three hundred to your proper use, And of these peevishe harletryes at home Make a much greater market?

Mildewe.  Marry, syr, That were a tale worth listeninge.

Sarleb.  These crowns
Are all your owne in your possession,
So are the maydes.  I knowe you ritche besydes
In coyne and jewells; heere you lyve despysed,
And whats this clime to us of more esteme
Then any forreine region? whores and bawdes
May lyve in every corner of the woorld,
We knowe tis full of sinners.  This, this day
Letts hyre a bark; wee dwell upon the haven,
And instantly ’tis done.  Shipp all your goods