leave your name
And place of your abode.

_Raphael_. _Raphael_ I am cald,
A marchant in _Marcellis_, and my lodginge
Is at the _Parratt_ in the markett-place;
There you shall finde mee knowne.

_Ashb_. And by that name
Presume I'l not forgett you.

_Raph_. For which curtesy,
Fare you well, syr;
You shall oblighe mee to you. If not heare
Weele seeke her further; _France_ shall not conteine them
But I will finde theire start-holes.

_Ashb_. Good speede with you.

_Clowne_. If I weare a dogge nowe and coold hunt dry foote[68]
I could smell them out presently.

[_Exeunt[69] Raphael and Clown_.

_Ashb_. Come lett us mount ourselfes upon these rockes
And, havinge feelinge of our hurts at land,
Letts see what shyppes have ben distrest at sea,
If any shaken in this storme or wreckt;
And though wee cannot help the miserable
Yet lett them taste our pittye.

_Godfrey_. Sir, content; but I hope your fishermen have not putt to
sea this night. If they have I sweare they have showed themselves
much madder then the tempest.

_Ashb_. I hope they have bin more discreate and wyse
Then with the hazard of my boates and netts
To indanger theire owne lyves.

_Godfr_. See: do you see, Syr?

_Ashb_. What?

_Godfr_. Why, yonder.

_Ashb_. Where?

_Godfr_. There towards yon shore.

_Ashb_. A shipp laboringe for liffe
Nowe cast upon the rocks, nowe splitt, nowe sinkinge,
Nowe dasht to peeces.

_Godfr_. I see all mischeifes do not com by land,
Som's doone upon the water.

_Ashb_. Though theire goodes perishe,
Yet in thy mercy, heaven, protect theire lyves.
Som sitt upon the planks, som on the masts,
Som hange upon the cables, and som few
Have only gott the cock-boat; others swimme.
Oh that wee shoold beehold theire misery
And want power to assiste them!

_Godfr_. Sure, syr, it was som shipp of passengers,
For see you not too women? daynty ducks!
Would they coold swime as ducks can, see how they spread
And cast theire legges abroad lyke naked frogges!
See howe they spread theire armes and stryve for lyfe!
I[70] would I weare som Dolphin or some whayle
That they might sitt astryde upon my backe
To beare them safe ashore; but I as yet
Could neare indure still water. See yet still,
Still theire coates beare them upp, keepe them aloft;
The modest ayer not willinge to discover
That which the bawdy waves shame not belowe
Rudely to lifte and handle.

_Ashb_. Blesse them heaven!
The wind