With very few, I thinke. _Jou_. Why, looke yee, sir: When after many a storme and dreadfull blow Strooke from fire-belching clouds, bankrupt of life I have home return'd; when all my frends denide Their thresholds to mee, and my creditors Desir'd to sinke mee in a prisoners grave, Hee gave mee dying life, his helpefull hand Sent mee to sea and kept mee safe on land.

Ist not a quarrell then to seeke butts owne? _Ga_. Oh, pray, sir- _Jou_. When all the talents of oppression Of usurers, lawyers and my creditors Had fangd upon my wife and family, Hee gave mee dying life, his helpfull hand Sent mee to sea and kept mee safe on land.

Ist not a quarrell then to seeke but's owne? _Ga_. Good sir- _Jou_. Come in, sir, where I will pay all that you can demand: Noe other quarrell, sir, shall passe your hand.