_Clowne_. I have left a full coort behynde mee, _Mildewe_ pleidinge of the one syde, my mayster on the other, and the lawyers fendinge and prooveinge on boathe; there's such yeallinge and ballinge, I know not whether it made any deafe to heare it, but I am suer I was almost sicke to see't. Whyle they are brablinge in the cittye I am sent backe to the villadge to cheire up the too younge mermaydes; for synce theire throates have bin rincht with salt water they singe with no lesse sweatenes. But staye; I spy a fisherman drawinge his nett upp to the shore; I'l slacke som of my speede to see how hee hathe spedd since the last tempest. _Enter the Fisherman_. _Fisher_. I see hee that nought venters nothinge gaynes; Hee that will bee awake when others sleepe May sometymes purchase what may give him rest, When other loyterers shalbe forct to ryse Or perish through meare want; as, for example, Although the tempest frighted hence the fishe, I have drag'd some thinge without finne or skale May make mee a good markett. Lett mee better Surveigh my pryze; 'tis of good weight I feele; Now should it bee some treasure I weare mayde. _Clowne_. Which if it proove I'l half marr you or be half made with you. _Fisher_. It must be gold by th'weight. _Clowne_. If it bee so heavy 'tis ten to one but I'l do you the curtesye to ease you of part of your burden. _Fisher_. None save myself is guilty of this pryze; 'Tis all myne owne, and I'l bee thinke mee best Howe to beestowe of this ritche magazin. _Clowne_. And I am stooddiinge too with what lyne, what angle, what fisguigge[118] what castinge nett I cann share with you in this sea booty. _Fisher_. I will dissemble, as most ritche men doo, Pleade poverty and speake my mayster fayre; By out my freedom for som little somme, And, beeinge myne owne man, by lands and howses; That doon, to sea I'l rigge shipps of myne owne, And synce the sea hathe made mee upp a stocke I'l venter it to sea; who knowes but I In tyme may prove a noble marchant? _Clowne_. Yes of eele skinnes.--Staye you, Syrra, ho! _Fisher_. I knowe no fish of that name; limpet, mullet, conger, dolphin, sharke I knowe, and place; I woold som body else had thyne; for hearinge I woold thou hadst none, nor codd; for smelt thou art too hott in my nose allredy; but such a fishe cald Syrra never came within the compasse of my nett. What art thou, a shrimpe, a dogg fish or a poore Jhon?[119] _Clowne_.[120] I am one that watcht the tyde to know what thou hast caught, and have mony in my pockett to by thy draught. _Fisher_. And I am one thou seest that have only an empty wett nett, but not so much as the tale of a spratte at thys tyme to sell for love of mony. _Clowne_. I grant this is no Fryday and I at this tyme no cater for the fishmarkett. I only cam to desyre thy judgement and counsell.