_Enter_ Clem _and_ Sailors _on one side: on the other_, Roughman, _who draws and beats them off; then re-enter_ Clem, _and the_ Sailors, _with_ Bess. Bess. But did he fight it bravely? Clem. I assure you, mistress, most dissolutely:[2.34] he hath run this sailor three times through the body, and yet never touched his skin. Bess. How can that be? Clem. Through the body of his doublet, I meant. Bess. How shame, base imputation, and disgrace, Can make a coward valiant! Sirrah, you Look to the bar. Clem. I’ll hold up my hand there presently. [_Exit_. Bess. I understand you came now from the Islands? 1st Sailor. We did so. Bess. If you can tell me tidings of one gentleman, I shall requite you largely. 1st Sailor. Of what name? Bess. One Spencer. 1st Sailor. We both saw and knew the man. Bess. Only for that, call for what wine you please. Pray tell me where you left him. 2nd Sailor. In Fayal. Bess. Was he in health? How did he fare? 2nd Sailor. Why, well. Bess. For that good news, spend, revel, and carouse; Your reckoning’s paid beforehand.--I am ecstasied, And my delight’s unbounded. 1st Sailor. Did you love him? Bess. Next to my hopes in Heaven. 1st Sailor. Then change your mirth. Bess. Why, as I take it, you told me he was well; And shall I not rejoice? 1st Sailor. He’s well, in Heaven; for, mistress, he is dead. Bess. Ha! dead! Was’t so you said? Th’ hast given me, friend, But one wound yet: speak but that word again, And kill me outright. 2nd Sailor. He lives not. Bess. And shall I?--Wilt thou not break, heart? Are these my ribs wrought out of brass or steel, Thou canst not craze[2.35] their bars? 1st Sailor. Mistress, use patience, Which conquers all despair. Bess. You advise well. I did but jest with sorrow: you may see I am now in gentle temper. 2nd Sailor. True; we see’t. Bess. Pray take the best room in the house, and there Call for what wine best tastes you: at my leisure, I’ll visit you myself. 1st Sailor. I’ll use your kindness. [_Exeunt_ Sailors. Bess. That it should be my fate! Poor, poor sweetheart! I do but think how thou becom’st thy grave, In which would I lay by thee. What’s my wealth, To enjoy’t without my Spencer? I will now Study to die, that I may live with him. _Enter_ Captain Goodlack. Goodlack. [_Aside_.] The further I inquire, the more I hear To my discomfort. If my discontinuance And change at sea disguise me from her knowledge, I shall have scope enough to prove her fully. This sadness argues she hath heard some news Of my friend’s death. Bess. [_Aside_.] It cannot, sure, be true That he is dead; Death could not be so envious, To snatch him in his prime. I study to forget That e’er was such a man.