_Who ever saw a noble sight, That never viewed a brave sea-fight! Hang up your bloody colours in the air, Up with your fights, and your nettings prepare; Your merry mates cheer, with a lusty bold spright, Now each man his brindice, and then to the fight. St George, St George, we cry, The shouting Turks reply: Oh now it begins, and the gun-room grows hot, Ply it with culverin and with small shot; Hark, does it not thunder? no, 'tis the guns roar, The neighbouring billows are turned into gore; Now each man must resolve, to die, For here the coward cannot fly. Drums and trumpets toll the knell, And culverins the passing bell. Now, now they grapple, and now board amain; Blow up the hatches, they're off all again: Give them a broadside, the dice run at all, Down comes the mast and yard, and tacklings fall; She grows giddy now, like blind Fortune's wheel, She sinks there, she sinks, she turns up her keel. Who ever beheld so noble a sight, As this so brave, so bloody sea-fight!_ _Har. Jun._ See the insolence of these English; they cannot do a brave action in an age, but presently they must put it into metre, to upbraid us with their benefits. _Fisc._ Let them laugh, that win at last. _Enter Captain_ MIDDLETON, _and a Woman with him, all pale and weakly, and in tattered garments._ _Tow._ Captain Middleton, you are arrived in a good hour, to be partaker of my happiness, which is as great this day, as love and expectation can make it. [_Rising up to salute_ MIDDLETON. _Mid._ And may it long continue so! _Tow._ But how happens it, that, setting out with us from England, you came not sooner hither. _Mid._ It seems the winds favoured you with a quicker passage; you know I lost you in a storm on the other side of the Cape, with which disabled, I was forced to put into St Helen's isle; there 'twas my fortune to preserve the life of this our countrywoman; the rest let her relate. _Isab._ Alas, she seems half-starved, unfit to make relations. _Van Her._ How the devil came she off? I know her but too well, and fear she knows me too. _Tow._ Pray, countrywoman, speak. _Eng Wom._ Then thus in brief; in my dear husband's company, I parted from our sweet native isle: we to Lantore were bound, with letters from the States of Holland, gained for reparation of great damages sustained by us; when, by the insulting Dutch, our countrymen, against all show of right, were dispossessed, and naked sent away from that rich island, and from Poleroon. _Har. Sen._ Woman, you speak with too much spleen; I must not hear my countrymen affronted.