Ashb.  This our neece?

Thom.  My doughter?

Pal.  Partners in sorrowe, and so neere allyde, And wee till nowe neare knewe it!

Scrib.  My deere coosin.

Ashb.  Nay, I’l bee my woords mayster; reache your hands, And thoughe no nearer then an Unkle, once I’l playe the father’s part.

Thom.  Praye hold your hand, Syr; Heares one that will doo’t for you.

Ash.  Brother Thomas!

Thom.  Peruse that letter, whilst I breathe these Joys,
Impartinge these a most unlimitted love
In equall distribution, doughter, neece,
Brother, and frends; lett mee devyde amongst you
A fathers, brothers, and a kinsman’s yoake
With all th’unmeasured pleasures and delights
That thought of man can wishe you.

Ashb.  Spare reply. 
These tell mee, that those bloodhounds who pursude
My fall, my oppressinge creditors I meane,
Are gone before to answer for my wronges,
And in there deathes with due acknowledgment
Of all theire violens doon mee; peace with them! 
That lykewyse by the deathe of a ritche alderman,
My unkle, I am left a fayer estate
In land, eight hundred by the yeare, in coyne
Twenty fyve thousand pound.  Make mee, oh heaven,
For this greate blessinge gratefull! and not least
To you my Indeer’d brother.

Thom.  One thinge woonders mee That I should fynd you neare Marcellis heare, When I was aym’d for Florens; where your letters Inform’d mee you were planted.

Ashb.  But even thither
Those crewell men dog’d mee with such pursuit
That theire I fownd no safety, but was forct
To fly thence with that little I had left
And to retyre mee to this obscure place;
Where by the trade of fishinge I have lyv’d
Till nowe of a contented competens. 
Those bates, hookes, lynes and netts for thy good servyce,
Gripus, I nowe make thyne.

Grip.  You are my noble mayster, and would I could have fownd more tricks then these in my budgett, they had bin all at your servyce.

Ashb.  I purpose nowe for England, whether so please These gentlemen consort us with theire brydes.

Boathe.  Most willingly.

Ashb.  There you shall see what welcome Our London, so much spoake of heare in France, Can give to woorthy strangers.

Thom.  Att my chardge Your shippinge is provyded, and at anchor Lyes ready in the roade.

Ashb.  Oh happy storme That ends in such a calme!

    Enter Godfreye in haste.

Godf.  Staye, gentlemen, and see a dolefull sight; One ledd to execution for a murder The lyke hath scarce bin heard of.

Ash.  Of the Fryar? 
In part we weare ey witness of the fact,
Nor is our hast so great but wee maye staye
To viewe his tragick end, whom the strickt lawe
Hathe made a Just example.