University of Virginia Library

Scen. 6.

Enter Cancrone and Scrocca with their boate from fishing.
Scr.
Yet more larboord! hol vp against that waue now starboord!

Can.
I thinke we are vpon the shallow

Scr.
Hold in Cancrone I smell the shore

Cancrone fals in.
Can.

Nay by your leaue 'twas I that smelt it, for I am sure my
nose kist it.

Scr.

Take hold of the stretcher, and then fasten the rope.

Can.

A rope stretch all such bottle-head botemen, had it been

my lot to haue bene Master at sea as 'tis yours, wee had neere
taken such a iourney in such a fly-boate, such a sows-eare, such
an egge-shell.

Scro.

Come helpe to laue her.

Can.

Its a true shee boote I warrant shee leakes brackish all the
yeare long.

Scr.

Will you come Sir you are yet in my iurisdiction on
the water.

Can.

Will you scale the fish sir, will you bring forth the nets sir,
will you spread them vpon the rocks sir you are at my demand
Sir vpon the land, wee'l be knowne in our place (Scrocca drinks)

is that your lauing.

Scro.

Ah ha this is something fresher then Neptuns salt
potion, seest not what a pickle I am in, but O those Scyllaes bandogs
(bough wough)
our boate bepist her selfe for feare.

Can.

I and thou thy selfe for companie; faith wee were
almost in Thetis powdring tub, but now Scrocca. lets off with
our liquor: Sirrah halfe to this blew-beard Neptune, but he
gets not one drop on't.

Scr.

I and withall remember the roaring boy Boreas (puff
puff) hold: you beare your poope too high Cancrone, y'ad neede
goe pumpe.

Can.

So mee thinks my braine is somewhat warmer now
my witt gear's on.

Let Neptune rage and roare and fome
For now Concrone's safe at home.

Scr.

How now Cancrone! what? poefied?

Can.

Why Scrocca is it such a matter for a waterman to be a
poet now a daies?

Sco.

I but I wonder that in all thy Poems thou neuer madst
an Epitaph for thy grandsire that was eaten vp by the Cyclops.

Can,

Ah Scrocca I prethee doe not ming my grand-sire,
thou'lt spoile my poetry presently; those hungry side slops;
they eate him vp crust and crum, and then kild him too and

that which grieues me most: hee neuer sent mee word who it
was that bit of's head, yet fayth, one draught more and haue
at him.

Hee drinkes.
Scr.

Nay if one draught will serue, he shall neuer starue for
an Epitaph.

Can.
So: it's comming I haue it Scrocca.
Here lies Cancrones grandsire, who sans boate.
Sands winde, sans seas saild downe the Cyclops throate.

Scr.

Here lies? Why will you graue an Epitaph on the
Cyclops belly?

I'me sure hee lies yonder.

Can.

Masse thou sayst true, but all our late writers begin
so.

Scr.

Well sir will you walke home and warme your poeticall
vaine at the kitchin fire.

Can.

Yes I care not if I doe, for I shall nere be well till I haue
got the chimney corner ouer my head.

Farewell ye rockes and seas, I thinke yee'l shew it
That Sicelie affords a water-Poet