Scene. 7.
Ent. Bla.
I feare from my dead mother, to make stop
Of our intended voyage.
Doct.
No Sir: drink.
Bla.
My Lord, Sir understands the course y'are in,
By your letters he tells mee; and bad me gi'you
This Ring, which wants a finger here he sayes.
Per.
Wee'll not be stayd.
Doct.
No Sir, he brings me word
The Marriner calls away; the winde and tyde
Are faire, and they are ready to weigh anchor,
Hoyst sayles, and onely stay for us, pray drinke Sir.
Per.
A health then to the willing winds and seas,
And all that steere towards th'Antipodes.
Ioy.
He has not drunke so deepe a draught this twelvmonth.
Doct.
Tis a deepe draught indeed, and now tis downe,
And carries him downe to the Antipodes?
I meane but in a dreame.
Ioy.
Alasse I feare.
See he beginnes to sink.
Doct.
Trust to my skill,
Pray take an arme, and see him in his cabbin.
Good Lady save my Ring that's fallen there.
Dia.
In sooth a mervailous neate and costly one!
Bla.
So, so, the Ring has found a finger.
Doct.
Come sir, aboord, aboord, aboord, aboord.
Bla.
To bed, to bed, to bed: I know your voyage,
And my deare Lords deare plot, I understand,
Whose Ring hath past here by your flight of hand.
