Mild.  My soone, my child, nay rather, thou young man, I’l take thee for my father, for in this Sure thou hast new begott mee.

Fish.  Blessing on thee!  But shoold I have a thousand children more, I almost durst presume I never should have Another more hard favored.

Mild.  Thou art any thinge.  But hast thou such a budgett?

Fisher.  Syr, I have And new tooke from the sea.  What woldst thou give And have it safe?

Mild.  I’l give a hundred crownes.

Fish.  Tush, offer me a sowse[154] but not in th’eare; I will barr that afore hand.

Mild.  And all safe, I’l give thee then too hondred.

Fish.  Offer me a cardeq!

Mild.  Three hondred, 4, nay fyve So nothinge bee diminisht.

Fish.  I will have A thousand crowns or nothinge.

Mild.  That growes deepe.

Fish.  Not so deepe as the sea was.

Mild.  Make all safe, And I will give a thousand.

Fish.  Tis a match, But thou wilt sweare to this.

Mild.  Give mee myne othe.

Fish.  If, when first I shall beehold
        My leatheren bagge that’s stuft with gould,
        At sight thereof I paye not downe
        To Gripus every promist crowne—­
                        Now say after mee. 
        May Mildewe I in my best age.

Mild.  May Mildewe I in my best age.

Fish.  Dy in some spittle, stocks or cage.[155]

Mild.  Dy in some spittle stocks or cage.

Fish.  I’l keepe my promisse, fayle not thou thine oathe.  So inn and tell my mayster. [Exit Fisherman.

Mild.  Yes, bawdes keepe oaths! t’must bee in leap-yeare then, Not now; what wee sweare weel forsweare agen.

    Enter Ashburne, Godfrey, and Gripus, to ’em.

Ashb.  And hee in that did well, for Heaven defend I shoold inritche mee with what’s none of myne.  Where is the man that claymes it?

Grip.  Heare’s my sworne soon, that but even now acknowledgd mee to bee his father.

Ashb.  Knowest thou this?

Mild.  Yes for myne owne.  I had thought, lyke one forlorne,
All fortune had forsooke mee, but I see
My best dayes are to com.  Welcom my lyfe! 
Nay if there bee in any bawde a sowle
This nowe hath mett the body.

Ashb.  All’s theire safe
Unrifled, naye untutcht, save a small caskett
With som few trifles of no valewe in’t,
Yet to mee pretious, synce by them I have fownd
My one and only doughter.

Mild.  Howes that, pray?

Ashb.  Thus; thy Palestra is my Mirable.

Mild.  Now may you to your comfort keepe the guerle,
Synce of my wealthe I am once againe possest. 
I heare acquitt you of all chardges past
Due for her education.