o. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter_ Goswin.

_Gos._ No wind blow fair yet? no return of moneys?
Letters? nor any thing to hold my hopes up?
Why then 'tis destin'd, that I fall, fall miserably!
My credit I was built on, sinking with me.
Thou boystrous North-wind, blowing my misfortunes,
And frosting all my hopes to cakes of coldness;
Yet stay thy fury; give the gentle South
Yet leave to court those sails that bring me safety,
And you auspicious fires, bright twins in heaven
Daunce on the shrowds; he blows still stubbornly,
And on his boystrous Rack rides my sad ruin;
There is no help, there can be now no comfort,
To morrow with the Sun-set, sets my credit.
Oh misery! thou curse of man, thou plague,
In the midst of all our strength thou strik'st us;
My vertuous Love is lost too: all, what I have been,
No more hereafter to be seen than shadow;
To prison now? well, yet there's this hope left me;
I may sink fairly under this days venture,
And so to morrow's cross'd, and all those curses:
Yet manly I'll invite my Fate, base fortune
Shall never say, she has cut my throat in fear.
This is the place his challenge call'd me to,
And was a happy one at this time for me,
For let me fall before my Foe i'th' field,
And not at Bar, before my Creditors;
H'as kept his word: now Sir, your swords tongue only
Loud as you dare, all other language--

_Enter_ Hemskirke.

_Hem._ Well Sir,
You shall not be long troubled: draw.

_Gos._ 'Tis done Sir,
And now have at ye.

_Hem._ Now.

_Enter_ Boors.

_Gos._ Betray'd to Villains!
Slaves ye shall buy me bravely,
And thou base coward.

_Enter_ Gerrard _and_ Beggars.

_Ger._ Now upon 'em bravely,
Conjure 'em soundly Boys.

_Boors._ Hold, hold.

_Ger._ Lay on still,
Down with that Gentleman rogue, swinge him to sirrup.
Retire Sir, and take Breath: follow, and take him,
Take all, 'tis lawful prize.

_Boors._ We yield.

_Ger._ Down with 'em
Into the Wood, and rifle 'em, tew 'em, swinge 'em,
Knock me their brains into their Breeches. [_Exeunt._

_Boors._ Hold, hold.

_Gos._ What these men are I know not, nor for what cause
They shou'd thus thrust themselves into my danger,
Can I imagine. But sure Heavens hand was in't!
Nor why this coward Knave should deal so basely
To eat me up with Slaves: but Heaven I thank thee,
I hope thou hast reserv'd me to an end
Fit for thy creature, and worthy of thine honour:
Would all my other dangers here had suffered,