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?