1. FRIEND.
Do’s she know him?
2. FRIEND.
No, would she did.
DAUGHTER.
You are master of a Ship?
IAILOR.
Yes.
DAUGHTER.
Wher’s your Compasse?
IAILOR.
Heere.
DAUGHTER.
Set it too’th North.
And now direct your course to’th wood, wher Palamon
Lyes longing for me; For the Tackling
Let me alone; Come, waygh, my hearts, cheerely!
ALL.
Owgh, owgh, owgh, tis up, the wind’s faire,
Top the Bowling, out with the maine saile;
Wher’s your Whistle, Master?
BROTHER.
Lets get her in.
IAILOR.
Vp to the top, Boy.