_Boats._ Oh Gunner, What bravery dwells in his age, and what valour! And to his friends, what gentleness and bounty! How long have we been inhabitants at Sea here? _Gun._ Some fourteen years. _Boats._ By fourteen lives I swear then, This Element never nourisht such a Pirate; So great, so fearless, and so fortunate, So patient in his want, in Act so valiant. How many sail of well mann'd ships before us, As the _Bonuto_ does the flying Fish, Have we pursued and scour'd, that to outstrip us, They have been fain to hang their very shirts on? What Gallies have we bang'd, and sunk, and taken; Whose only fraughts were fire, and stern defiance? And nothing spoke but Bullet in all these. How like old _Neptune_ have I seen our General Standing i'th' Poop, and tossing his Steel Trident, Commanding both the Sea and Winds to serve him! _Gun._ His Daughter too, which is the honor Boatswain, Of all her sex; that Martial Maid. _Boats._ A brave wench. _Gun._ How oftentimes, a fight being new begun, Has she leap'd down, and took my Linstock from me, And crying, now fly righ[t], and fir'd all my chasers! Then like the Image of the warlike Goddess, Her Target brac'd upon her arm, her sword drawn, And anger in her eies leapt up again, And bravely ha[l]'d the Bark. I have wondred Boatswain, That in a body made so delicate, So soft for sweet embraces, so much fire, And manly soul, not starting at a danger. _Boats._ Her noble Father got her in his fury, And so she proves a Soldier. _Gun._ This too I wonder at Taking so many strangers as he does, He uses them with that respect and coolness, Not making prize, but only borrowing What may supply his want: nor that for nothing; But renders back what they may stand in need of, And then parts lovingly: Where, if he take His Countreyman, that should be nearest to him, And stand most free from danger, he sure pays for't: He drowns or hangs the men, ransacks the Bark, Then gives her up a Bonfire to his fortune. _Boats._ The wrongs he has receiv'd from that dull Countrey That's all I know has purchas'd all his cruelty. We fare the better; cheerly, cheerly boys, The ship runs merrily, my Captain's melancholly, And nothing cures that in him but a Sea-fight: I hope to meet a sail boy, and a right one. _Gun._ That's my hope too; I am ready for the pastime. _Boats._ I' th' mean time let's bestow a Song upon him, To shake him from his dumps, and bid good day to him. Ho, in the hold. _Enter a Boy._ _Boy._ Here, here. _Boats._ To th' Main top, Boy. And thou kenst a ship that dares defie us, Here's Gold. _Boy._ I am gone. [_Exit Boy._