_Boats._ The devil or his dam; hail her agen boys. _Sail._ The Long-boat, ho, the Long-boat. _Ses._ Why, the Long-boat. Where is the Long-boat? _Boats._ She is stolen off. _Enter Master._ _Ses._ Who stole her? Oh my prophetique soul! _Mast._ Your Daughters gone Sir? The prisoners and six Sailors, Rogues. _Ses._ Mischief, six thousand plagues sail with 'em; They'r in her yet, make out. _Mast._ We have ne'r a Boat. _Enter Gunner._ _Gun._ Who knew of this trick? _Ses._ Weigh Anchors and away. _Boats._ We ha no wind Sir, They'll beat us with their Oars. _Ses._ Then sink 'em Gunner, Oh sink 'em, sink 'em, sink 'em, claw 'em Gunner; As ever thou hast lov'd me. _Gun._ I'll do reason, But I'll be hang'd before I'll hurt the Lady. [_Exit Gun._ _Ses._ Who knew of this? [_Trump. a piece or two go off._ _Mast._ We stand all clear. _Ses._ What Devil Put this base trick into her tail? my Daughter, And run away with rogues! I hope she's sunk, [_A piece or two._ Or torn to pieces with the shot, rots find her, The leprosie of whore stick ever to her, Oh she has ruin'd my revenge. _Enter Gunner._ _Gun._ She is gone, Sir. I cannot reach her with my shot. _Ses._ Rise winds, [blow till you burst the aire,] Blow till ye burst the Air, and swell the Seas, That they may sink the Stars, Oh dance her, dance her; Shee's impudently wanton, dance her, dance her, Mount her upon your surges, cool her, cool her; She runs hot like a whore, cool her, cool her, Oh now a shot to sink her, cut Cables, I will away, and where she sets her foot Although it be in _Ferrants_ Court, I'll follow her, And such a Fathers vengeance shall she suffer---- Dare any man stand by me? _Mast._ All, all. _Boats._ All Sir. _Gun._ And the same cup you taste. _Ses._ Cut Cables then; For I shall never sleep nor know what peace is, Till I have pluckt her heart out; _All within._ Oh main there. [_Exeunt._ _Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._ _Enter_ Ferrant, Ronvere, Castruccio, Villio, _and Guard._ _Ron._ You are too gentle, Sir. [_Flourish Cornets._ _Fer._ You are too careless: The creatures I have made, no way regard me: Why should I give you names, titles of honor, Rob families to fill your private houses. For your advancement, draw all curses on me, Wake tedious winter nights, to make them happy That for me break no slumber? _Ron._ What we can, We dare do.