Qu. Accursed that ever I was saved or born!
How fatal is my sad arrival here!
As if the stars and providence spake to me,
And said, “The drift of all unlawful courses
(Whatever end they dare propose themselves,
In frame of their licentious policies), 130
In the firm order of just destiny,
They are the ready highways to our ruins.”
I know not what to do; my wicked hopes
Are, with this tempest, torn up by the roots.
O! which way shall I bend my desperate steps,
In which unsufferable shame and misery
Will not attend them? I will walk this bank,
And see if I can meet the other relics
Of our poor shipwreck’d crew, or hear of them.
The knight, alas! was so far gone with wine, 140
And th’ other three, that I refused their boat,
And took the hapless woman in another,
Who cannot but be sunk, whatever fortune
Hath wrought upon the others’ desperate lives.
[Exit.
Enter Sir Petronel and Seagull, bareheaded.
Pe. Zounds! captain, I will tell thee, we are cast up o’ the coast of France. ’Sfoot! I am not drunk still, I hope. Dost remember where we were last night?
Sea. No, by my troth, knight, not I; but methinks we have been a horrible while upon the water and in the water. 150
Pe. Ay me! we are undone for ever! Hast any money about thee?
Sea. Not a penny, by Heaven!
Pe. Not a penny betwixt us, and cast ashore in France!
Sea. ’Faith, I cannot tell that; my brains nor mine eyes are not mine own yet. 157
Enter two Gentlemen.