can reade Waiting‑Gentlewoman in the scape: this has
beene some staire‑worke, some Trunke‑worke, some be
hinde‑doore worke: they were warmer that got this,
then the poore Thing is heere. Ile take it vp for pity, yet
Ile tarry till my sonne come: he hallow’d but euen now.
Whoa‑ho‑hoa.
Hilloa, loa.
What? art so neere? If thou’lt see a thing to
talke on, when thou art dead and rotten, come hither:
what ayl’st thou, man?
I haue seene two such sights, by Sea & by Land:
but I am not to say it is a Sea, for it is now the skie, be‑twixt
the Firmament and it, you cannot thrust a bodkins
point.
Why boy, how is it?
I would you did but see how it chafes, how it ra
ges, how it takes vp the shore, but that’s not to the point:
Oh, the most pitteous cry of the poore soules, sometimes
to see 'em, and not to see 'em: Now the Shippe boaring
the Moone with her maine Mast, and anon swallowed
with yest and froth, as you’ld thrust a Corke into a hogs‑head.
And then for the Land‑seruice, to see how the
Beare tore out his shoulder‑bone, how he cride to mee
for helpe, and said
his name was
Antigonus, a Nobleman:
But to make an end of the Ship, to see how the Sea flap
dragon’d it: but first, how the poore soules roared, and
the sea mock’d them: and how the poore Gentleman roa
red, and the Beare mock’d him, both roaring lowder
then the sea, or weather.
Name of mercy, when was this boy?
Now, now: I haue not wink’d since I saw these
sights: the men are not yet cold vnder water, nor the
Beare halfe din’d on the Gentleman: he’s at it now.
Would I had bin by, to haue help’d the olde
man.
I would you had beene by the ship side, to haue
help’d her; there your charity would haue lack’d footing.
Heauy matters, heauy matters: but looke thee
heere boy. Now blesse thy selfe: thou met’st with things
dying, I with things new borne. Here’s a sight for thee:
Looke thee, a bearing‑cloath for a Squires childe: looke
thee heere, take vp, take vp (Boy:) open’t: so, let’s see, it
was told me I should be rich by the Fairies. This is some
Changeling: open’t: what’s within, boy?
You’re a mad olde man: If the sinnes of your
youth are forgiuen you, you’re well to liue. Golde, all
Go
This is Faiery Gold boy, and 'twill proue so: vp
with’t, keepe it close: home, home, the next way. We
are luckie (boy) and to bee so still requires nothing but
secrecie. Let my sheepe go: Come (good boy) the next
way home.
Go you the next way with your Findings, Ile go
see if the Beare bee gone from the Gentleman, and how
much he hath eaten: they are neuer curst but when they
are hungry: if there be any of him left, Ile bury it.
That’s a good deed: if thou mayest discerne by
that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to th’sight
of him.
'Marry will I: and you shall helpe to put him
i’th’ground.
'Tis a lucky day, boy, and wee’l do good deeds
on’t.
