Bess. Which we’ll rescue, Or perish in the adventure. You have sworn That, howsoe’er we conquer or miscarry, Not to reveal my sex. All. We have. Bess. Then, for your country’s honour, my revenge, For your own fame, and hope of golden spoil, Stand bravely to’t.--The manage of the fight We leave to you. Goodlack. Then, now up with your fights,[2.57] and let your ensigns, Blest with St. George’s cross, play with the winds.-- Fair Bess, keep you your cabin. Bess. Captain, you wrong me: I will face the fight; And where the bullets sing loud’st ’bout mine ears, There shall you find me cheering up my men. Roughman. This wench would of a coward make a Hercules. Bess. Trumpets, a charge! and with your whistles shrill, Sound, boatswains, an alarum to your mates. With music cheer up their astonished souls, The whilst the thundering ordnance bear the bass. Goodlack. To fight against the Spaniards we desire. Alarum, trumpets! [_Alarum_. Roughman. Gunners, straight give fire! [_A shot is fired. Exeunt_ Goodlack, Bess, _&c._ _Re-enter_ Captain Goodlack, _wounded_, Bess, Roughman, Fawcett, _and_ Clem. Goodlack. I am shot, and can no longer man the deck: Yet let not my wound daunt your courage, mates. Bess. For every drop of blood that thou hast shed, I’ll have a Spaniard’s life.--Advance your targets, And now cry all, “Board! board! Amain for England!” [_Alarum. Exeunt_ Goodlack, Bess, _&c._ _Re-enter_ Bess, Roughman, Fawcett, Clem, _&c., victorious. The_ Spaniards _prisoners_. Bess. How is it with the captain? Roughman. Nothing dangerous; But, being shot i’ the thigh, he keeps his cabin, And cannot rise to greet your victory. Bess. He stood it bravely out, whilst he could stand. Clem. But for these Spaniards: now, you Don Diegos, You that made Paul’s to stink.[2.58] Roughman. Before we further censure them, let’s know What English prisoners they have here aboard. [_Exit_. 1st Spaniard. You may command them all. We that were now Lords over them, fortune hath made your slaves.-- Release our prisoners. Bess. Had my captain died, Not one proud Spaniard had escaped with life. Your ship is forfeit to us, and your goods: So live.--Give him his long boat: him and his Set safe ashore; and pray for English Bess. 1st Spaniard. I know not whom you mean; but be’t your queen, Famous Elizabeth, I shall report She and her subjects both are merciful. [_Exeunt_ Spaniards. _Re-enter_ Roughman, _with a_ Merchant, Spencer _and_ English Prisoners. Bess. Whence are you, sir, and whither were you bound? Merchant. I am a London merchant, bound for Barbary; But by this Spanish man-of-war surprised, Pillaged and captived. Bess. We much pity you. What loss you have sustained, this Spanish prey Shall make good to you, to the utmost farthing.