Clown.  Ay, syr.

Ashb.  And that shee is my doughter, my lost child.

Clowne.  Ay, syr.

Ashb.  And that of all this I am most assur’d.

Clown.  Ay, syr.

Ashb.  Thou wilt not doo all this?

Clown.  I will, you lye, syr.

Ashb.  Howe, syr.

Cl.  Ay, syr.

Ashb.  Saye that this daye shee shalbee made his wyfe.

Cl.  Ay, syr.

Ashb.  Why then add winges unto your heeles and fly, syr.

Cl.  Ay syr, but ere I take my flight, for this good servyce You’ll mediate with him for my freedom?

Ashb.  So.

Cl.  And woo your doughter to doo so too?

Ashb.  So.

Cl.  And, syr, to him I shalbee thankefull.

Ashb.  So.

Cl.  Your doughters and your servant ever.

Ashb.  So.

Cl.  To go, roonne, ryde of all your arrants.

Ashb.  So.

Cl.  In all this you’l bee slack in nothinge?

Ashb.  So.

Cl.  And you’l heareafter love mee still?

Ashb.  So, so.

Cl.  Howe, but so, so?

Ashb.  Yes, so and so and so.

Cl.  Why, then I go, go, goe. [Exit Clown.

Ashb.  But one thinge I intreate you, Mirable: 
This thyrteene yeares, since by rude creditors
Tost and opprest, nay rent out of myne owne,
I have bin forct to seeke my fate abroad,
Howe weare you ravisht thence, or since that tyme
What strange adventures past?

    Enter Godfrey, and the wyfe with the handkercher.

Mirable.  My mother’s presence Must now prevent my answer.

Wyfe.  Where is shee? oh wheare, wheare? for by these tokens, These of her childhood most unfallid signes, I knwe her for my doughter.

Mir.  I have bene The longe and wretched owner of that cabinet With all therein contein’d.

Wyfe.  Into thy boosom Oh lett mee rayne a shower of joyfull teares To welcom thee, my Mirable.

Godf.  You threatned her but nowe with skaldinge water; mee thinks you had more neede to comfort her with hott waters, for sure shee canott bee warme synce shee came so late out of the could bathe.

Wyf.  Make fyares, bid them make ready wholesom brothes, Make warme the bedd, and see the sheetes well ayred.  Att length then have I fownd thee?

Ashb.  But what’s shee That’s in thy fellow-shippe?

Mir.  My fellowe sharer In all misfortunes; and for many yeares So deere to mee, I canot tast a blessednes Of which shee’s not partaker.

Wyfe.  For thy sake Shee shall bee myne too, and (in her) I’l thinke The powers above have for my single losse Given mee at lengthe a duble recompense.