in my netts, or batinge my hooke strooke her and drewe her upp
by the gills with myne angle. Make you hast for I'l staye till you
come back. [_Exit_.

_Scrib_. But this delaye had allmost putt me from
What I was sent about; yes this is the place.
[_Knocks_.

_Enter Godfrey_.

[_Godf_.] Whoes that that offers violens to these gates
That never yet offended? What want you?

_Scrib_. That which the earthe
Dothe forebidd none, and freely yelds to all,
A little fayre springe water.

_Godfr_.--One of those giurles
Beelyke this morninge shippwrackt and now scapt?
A dainty peece of maydes fleshe. Such sweete bitts
Are not heare often swallowed, and my mouth
Waters at this fine morsell.

_Scrib_. Water, frend;
Tis that I crave for heaven's sake.

_Godfr_. Wee have none
Of guift, unless you by't.

_Scrib_. Will you sell that
The earthe affourds you gratis, and sett pryse
Of what a foe would yeeld an enemy?

_Godfr_. Not, pretty lasse, so thou'lt afford mee that,
Freely and without bargen, which not only
One frend will to another but oft tymes
A stranger to a stranger.

_Scrib_. What's that, prithee?

_Godfr_. Only a kisse, sweete wensh.

_Scrib_. Ye are too familiar,
I'l by none at that pryse: or fill my pale
Or I'l returne back empty.

_Godfr_. Well for once
I will not greatly stand out, yet in hope,
That what att our fyrst meetinge you'l not grant
You'l not denye at partinge; reatch thy pale.

_Scrib_. Quick as you love mee.

_Godfr_. As you love mee! right:
Who[88] ever lov'd that lov'd not att fyrst sight?
The poet's excellent sayeinge.
[_Exit[89] to draw water_.

_Scrib_. What shall I saye or howe shall I excuse
This my longe staye? but nowe I cast myne eyes
Backe on the roughe yet unappeased seas,
I quake to thinke upon our dangers past.
But see the fearefull object of a death
More menacinge and affrightfull, a sea monster
Cast from the deepes to swallow us ashore!
Malevolent fate and black desaster still
Pursues us to all places, but of all
_Enter Myldew and Sarlaboys to her_.
This, this the greatest, and to this one compard
All that are past but trifles. Oh that grand maister
Of mechall[90] lusts, that bulke of brothelree,
That stillary of all infectious sinnes,
Hath scapt the wrack, and with his fellowe guest
And partner in corruption makes this waye,
And with no tarde pace. Where shall I hyde mee!
Whether sha