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.