Ashb. Thus; thy Palestra is my Mirable.
Mild. Now may you to your comfort keepe the guerle,
Synce of my wealthe I am once againe possest.
I heare acquitt you of all chardges past
Due for her education.
Ashb. You speake well.
Grip. It seemes you are possest, and this your owne.
Mild. Which I'l knowe howe I part with.
Grip. Com quickly and untrusse.
Mild. Untrusse, Syr? what?
Grip. Nay if you stand on poynts,[156] my crowns, my crowns: Com tell them out, a thousand.
Mild. Thousand deathes I will indure fyrst! synce I neather owe thee Nor will I paye thee any thinge.
Grip. Didst thou not sweare?