Act 3 — SCENE III.
Reading edition
Enter Captain, Trepanners, Tarpaulins, with other runagadoes, orderly marching, and in the rear, Benhadad, a Quaker, with tobacco-pipes.
1st Tre. Rouse, buckets and tubs! Hey for Tunis and Argiers.[147]
Capt. Keep your ranks, my comrades, and fight valiantly.
2d Tre. What else, captain? We cheated before for nothing, and now, having nothing, we mean to fight for something.
3d Tre. 'Slid, bullies, I think the duke has done us a pleasure.
1st Tre. Pray thee, how, boy?
3d Tre. I'll tell thee the short and long on't. Before, if any of us had been so valiant (as few of us were) as to borrow money on the highway, we were sometimes forced to repay it at the gibbet: but the world is turned upside down; if we get it, we may keep it, and never answer for it.
1st Tre. Hey, boy, art thou in that lock?[148] But, noble lance-presado,[149] let us have a sea-sonnet, before we launch forth in our adventure-frigate. They say the syrens love singing.
Capt. Agreed, wags. But which shall we have?
1st Tre. That old catch of Tunis and Argiers; good captain, it suits best with our voyage.
Capt. To't then, my Hectors; and keep your elas[150] as you do your march. The syrens will not relish you, if you sing out o' tune.[151]
The Sea-Song.[152]
Capt. To Tunis and to Argiers, boys! Great is our want, small be our joys. Let's then some voyage take in hand To get us means by sea or land. Come, follow me, my boys, come follow me, And if thou die, I'll die with thee.
[They join in the close.
Hast thou a wife? I have one too, And children some, as well as thou; Yet who can see his brats to starve So long as he has strength to serve? Come, follow me, my cubs, come follow me, And if thou die, I'll die with thee.
[He fixeth his eyes as upon objects in a landskip.
Methinks, my boys, I see the store Of precious gems and golden ore; Arabian silks and sables pure Would make an haggard stoop to th' lure. Come, follow me, &c. No worthless mind e'er honour sought; Let's fight as if we feared nought. If bullets fly about our ears, Let's laugh at death, and banish fears. Come, follow me, &c. And if thou canst not live so stench,[153] But thou must needs enjoy thy wench, If thou, my boy, such pleasure crave, A dainty doxy thou shalt have. Come, follow me, &c. Courage, my sparks, my knights o' th' sun; Let Seville fame what we have done. We'd better ten times fight a foe Than once for all to Tyburn go. Come, follow me, &c. Come, let's away, mount, march away; This calm portends a prosperous day. When we return, it shall be said That by our voyage we are made. Come, follow me, &c. But if we ne'er again return, Enclose our ashes in an urn, And with them spice a wassal-cup, And to Good Fellows drink it up. Come, follow me, &c. Which health, when it is gone about, And stoutly set their foot unto't, No doubt they shall enrolled be I' th' Book of Fame, as well as we. Come, follow me, spruce sprigs, come follow me, And, if thou fall, I'll fall with thee.
Enter a rank of Tarpaulins, pressed for the same adventure, marching over the stage, and joining in the catch, an health-cup in the leader's hand.
Tar. When this grand health is gone about, Where you as stoutly stood unto't, Doubt not you shall recorded be I' th' Book of Fame, as well as we. March after me, &c. And when this bowl shall run so round Your legs can stand upon no ground, Fear not, brave blades,[154] but you shall be Sworn brothers made as well as we. March after me, &c. No other obsequies we crave, Nor quaint inscriptions on our grave; A simple shroud's a soldier's share, Which if he want he needs not care. March after me, &c. Such vails are all we wish at last, Which if we want, the care is past. This done, to think of us were just— Who drink not get[155] as dry as dust. March after me, &c. While you act what we did before, Discharge with chalk[156] the hostess' score; And if the hussy[157] challenge more, Charm th' maundring gossip with your roar. March after me, we'll frolic be, And, if thou die, I'll die with thee.