Albert. What comfort Sailors?
I never saw, since I have known the Sea,
(which has been this twenty years) so rude a tempest:
In what State are we?
Mast. Dangerous enough Captain,
We have sprung five leaks, and no little ones;
Still rage; besides, her ribs are open;
Her rudder almost spent; prepare your selves;
And have good courages, death comes but once,
And let him come in all his frights.
Albert. Is't not possible,
To make in to th' Land? 'tis here before us.
Morill. Here hard by Sir.
Mast. Death is nearer, Gentlemen.
Yet do not cry, let's dye like men.
Tib. Shall's hoise the Boat out,
And goe all at one cast? the more the merrier.
Enter Amint.
Mast. You are too hasty Mounsieur,
Do ye long to be i'th' Fish-market before your time?
Hold her up there.
Amint. Oh miserable fortune,
Nothing but horror sounding in mine ears,
No minute to promise to my frighted soul.
Tib. Peace woman,
We ha storms enough already; no more howling.