[Exeunt.]
Re-enter Boatswain.
BOATSWAIN.
Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring her to try wi’ th’ maincourse.
[A cry within.]
A plague upon this howling! They are louder than the weather or our office.
Enter Sebastian, Antonio and Gonzalo.
Yet again! What do you here? Shall we give o’er, and drown? Have you a mind to sink?
SEBASTIAN.
A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!
BOATSWAIN.
Work you, then.
ANTONIO.
Hang, cur, hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker! We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.