_Sarleb_. These crowns
Are all your owne in your possession,
So are the maydes. I knowe you ritche besydes
In coyne and jewells; heere you lyve despysed,
And whats this clime to us of more esteme
Then any forreine region? whores and bawdes
May lyve in every corner of the woorld,
We knowe tis full of sinners. This, this day
Letts hyre a bark; wee dwell upon the haven,
And instantly 'tis done. Shipp all your goods
With these shee-chatteyles; putt this night to sea--
England they saye is full of whormasters;
There will bee vent for such comoditye,
There strompett them where they (you saye) weare born,
Else you in _Spayne_ may sell them to the stewes,
_Venyce_ or any place of _Italy_;
They are everywhere good chaffer. If not these,
What saye you to _Morocho, Fesse, Algiers_?
Faith these are wares in all parts vendible,
No matter thoughe to _Turke_ and infidell,
So itt bringe gayne and profitt.
_Mildewe_. Lett me hugg thee
For this, deare frend; heareafter I will style thee
My better genius; thou hast monied mee in this,
Nay landed me, made me thy braynes executor,
And putt mee in a lardge possession.
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