Re-enter Boatswain.
[Boats.] Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! [Bring her to try] with main-course. [A cry within.] [A plague upon this howling!] they are louder than the weather 35 or our office.
Re-enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo.
Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o’er, and drown? Have you a mind to sink?
Seb. A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!
40 Boats. Work you, then.
Ant. Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noise-maker. We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.
Gon. I’ll warrant him [for] drowning; though the ship were no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanched 45 wench.
Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her [two courses off to sea] again; lay her off.