you every parcell in't
Lett it no more bee myne, mak't your own pryse;
But such small trifles as I justly chalenge
And cannot yeeld you the least benefitt,
Of them let mee bee mystresse, synce they are
The somme and crowne of all my future hopes,
But from my tender infancy deteined.
As for the gould and Jewells mak't your spoyle;
Of that I clayme no portione.

_Fisher_. I accept of the condition.

_Ashb_. Itt is boathe just and honest; we'll have no juggling,
And, _Gripus_, synce the busines concernes you,
Have you a curious ey too't.

_Fisher_. Feare not mee, for boathe at sea and land I was ever a goodd
marksman.

_Ashb_. The caskett is nowe open'd: what coms fyrste?

_Pal_. Above, the clothes in which I fyrst was swathde,
The linnen fyrst worne in myne infancy.

_Ashb_. These are child's swathinges; whether thyne or no
It is to mee uncertaine. To the rest.

_Pal_. And next to these is a ritche handkercher,
Where you shall find in golden letters wrought
My place of byrthe, myne and my father's name.

_Ashb_. Heare's such a handkercher, such letters workt:
Speake them, as I shall reade them.

_Pal. Mirable_.

_Ashb_. Right! _Myrable_.

_Pal. Daughter of Jhon Ashburne, merchant_.

_Ashb_. Trewe: of _Jhon Ashburne_ merchant--Oh my sowle!
--Proceed, prithee proceede.

_Pal. And borne in Christ-chyrch, London, Anno_--

_Ashb_. 160(?)0.[133]
Oh you Imortall powers. I stagger yet
Beetwixt despayer and hope, and canott guesse
Which weye my fate will swaye mee; oh speake, speake!
Thy mothers name?

_Pal_. Reade it in sylver letters pleynly wrought
In the next Imbrodered Linnen.

_Ashb_. If that fayle not
I have a firme rock to build upon.--
_The guift of Isabell to her daughter Mirable_.--
Oh frend, oh servant!

_Clown_. How is't, syr?

_Fisher_. How now, mayster?

_Ashb_. I that so many yeares have been despoyl'd,
Neclected, shattered, am made upp againe,
Repaired, and new created.

_Pal_. Search but further
And there's a golden brooch in it, a diamond,
Upon my byrthday geven mee by my father.

_Ashb_. I have longe sought and nowe at lengthe have found
That diamond, thee my doughter.

_Pal_. How, syr?

_Ashb_. Shee that so late excluded thee my house
And shutt these gates against thee, _Isabell_
Thy mother, these weare her owne handyworkes
Bestowde upon thee in thyne infancy
To make us nowe boathe happy in thy yoouth.
I am _Jhon Ashburne_ marchant, _London, Christ Church_;
The yea