Pardon me—that’s mine.
Mous. Oh, Heaven and Earth—a Man! Thou hardy fool,
What dost thou on this isle? (Draws knife.) Come, answer me.
Flor. Give me that knife. (Twists it out of his hand.)
That’s well! Now, what’s your will?
Mous. Go—get thee hence at once.
Flor.No, not just yet.
This Paradise—if Rumour tells the truth—
Is ruled by six fair ladies. I prefer
To take my sailing orders from their lips.