_Adam._ What, beat thy man, knave? and, ay, master, and double beat you, because you are a man of credit; and therefore have at you the fairest for forty pence. [_Beats the_ Smith.
_Smith._ Alas, wife, help, help! my man kills me.
_S. Wife._ Nay, even as you have baked, so brew: jealousy must be driven out by extremities.
_Smith._ Hold thy hand, Adam; and not only I forgive and forget all, but I will give thee a good farm to live on.
_Adam._ Begone, peasant, out of the compass of my further wrath, for I am a corrector of vice; and at night I will bring home my mistress.
_Smith._ Even when you please, good Adam.
_Adam._ When I please,--mark the words--'tis a lease-parol,[103] to have and to hold. Thou shalt be mine for ever: and so let's go to the ale-house. [_Exeunt._
_Oseas._ Where servants against masters do rebel, The commonweal may be accounted hell; For if the feet the head shall hold in scorn, The city's state will fall and be forlorn. This error, London, waiteth on thy state: Servants, amend, and, masters, leave to hate; Let love abound, and virtue reign in all; So God will hold his hand, that threateneth thrall.
_Enter the_ Merchants _of Tharsus, the_ Master _of the Ship and some_ Sailors, _wet from the sea; with them the_ Governor _of Joppa._
_Gov._ What strange encounters met you on the sea, That thus your bark is batter'd by the floods, And you return thus sea-wreck'd as I see?
_First Mer._ Most mighty Governor, the chance is strange, The tidings full of wonder and amaze, Which, better than we, our Master can report.
_Gov._ Master, discourse us all the accident.
_Master._ The fair Triones with their glimmering light Smil'd at the foot of clear Bootes' wain, And in the north, distinguishing the hours, The loadstar of our course dispers'd his clear; When to the seas with blitheful western blasts We sail'd amain, and let the bowling fly. Scarce had we gone ten leagues from sight of land, But, lo, an host of black and sable clouds 'Gan to eclipse Lucina's silver face; And, with a hurling noise from forth the south, A gust of wind did rear the billows up. Then scantled we our sails with speedy hands, And took our drablers[104] from our bonnets straight, And severèd our bonnets from the courses: Our topsails up, we truss our spritsails in; But vainly strive they that resist the heavens. For, lo, the waves incense them more and more, Mounting with hideous roarings from the depth; Our bark is batter'd by encountering storms, And well-nigh stemm'd by breaking of the floods. The steersman, pale and careful, holds his helm, Wherein the trust of life and safety lay: Till all at once (a mortal tale to tell) Our sails were split by Bisa's[105] bitter blast. Our rudder broke, and we bereft of hope. There might you see, with pale and ghastly looks, The dead in thought, and doleful merchants lift Their eyes and hands unto their country's gods. The goods we cast in bowels of the sea, A sacrifice to 'suage proud Neptune's ire. Only alone a man of Israel, A passenger, did under hatches lie, And slept secure, when we for succour pray'd: Him I awoke, and said, "Why slumberest thou? Arise, and pray, and call upon thy god; He will perhaps in pity look on us." Then cast we lots to know by whose amiss Our mischief came, according to the guise; And, lo, the lot did unto Jonas fall, The Israelite of whom I told you last. Then question we his country and his name; Who answer'd us, "I am an Hebrew born, Who fear the Lord of heaven who made the sea, And fled from him, for which we all are plagu'd: So, to assuage the fury of my God, Take me and cast my carcass in the sea; Then shall this stormy wind and billow cease." The heavens they know, the Hebrew's God can tell, How loath we were to execute his will: But when no oars nor labour might suffice, We heav'd the hapless Jonas overboard. So ceas'd the storm, and calmèd all the sea, And we by strength of oars recover'd shore.