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.