[Ex't. ma: Ashb.[128]
Clown. What say'st thou to this gentleman?
Fisher. No man better.—Now it will go on my syde; this is my owne master, sure hee cannot bee so unatrall to give sentens against his owne natural servant.—Syr, good daye.
Ashb. Gramercyes, I in truth much suffered for thee, Knowing howe rashly thou exposd thyself To such a turbulent sea.
Clown. I likewyse, Syr, salute you.
Ashb. Thanks, good frend.
Clown. But, syr, is this your servant.[129]
Ashb. Yes, I acknowledge him; And thou I thinke belongst to Mr Raphael, Imployde about these women.
Clown. Yes I acknowledge it; but you are sure hee's yours?
Ashb. Once againe I doo confesse him myne.