Wincott. An unthrift youth, his father now at sea. Young Geraldine. Why, that’s the very subject upon which It seems this jest is grounded; there this night Was a great feast. Clown. Why, so I told you, sir. Wincott. Be thou still dumb; ’tis he that I would hear. Young Geraldine. In the height of their carousing, all their brains Warmed with the heat of wine, discourse was offered Of ships, and storms at sea;[3.19] when suddenly, Out of his giddy wildness, one conceives The room wherein they quaffed to be a pinnace, Moving and floating; and the confused noise To be the murmuring winds, gusts, mariners; That their unsteadfast footing did proceed From rocking of the vessel: this conceived, Each one begins to apprehend the danger, And to look out for safety. “Fly,” saith one, “Up to the main-top, and discover;” he Climbs by the bed-post to the tester, there Reports a turbulent sea and tempest towards, And wills them, if they’ll save their ship and lives, To cast their lading overboard; at this All fall to work, and hoist into the street, As to the sea, what next come to their hand-- Stools, tables, trestles, trenchers, bedsteads, cups, Pots, plate, and glasses; here a fellow whistles, They take him for the boatswain; one lies struggling Upon the floor, as if he swum for life; A third takes the bass-viol for the cockboat, Sits in the belly on’t, labours and rows, His oar the stick with which the fiddler played; A fourth bestrides his fellows, thinking to scape As did Arion on the dolphin’s back, Still fumbling on a gittern. Clown. Excellent sport! Wincott. But what was the conclusion? Young Geraldine. The rude multitude, Watching without, and gaping for the spoil Cast from the windows, went by the ears about it; The constable is called to atone[3.20] the broil, Which done, and hearing such a noise within Of imminent shipwreck, enters the house, and finds them In this confusion. They adore his staff, And think it Neptune’s trident, and that he Comes with his Tritons (so they called his watch) To calm the tempest, and appease the waves; And at this point we left them. Clown. Come what will, I’ll steal out of doors, and see the end of it, that’s certain. [_Exit_. Wincott. Thanks, Master Geraldine, for this discourse; In troth it hath much pleased me; but the night Begins to grow fast on us: for your parts You are all young, and you may sit up late; My eyes begin to summon me to sleep, And nothing’s more offensive unto age Than to watch long and late. [_Exit_. Young Geraldine. Now good rest with you!