BEN. Break your heart? I’d rather the _Mary-gold_ should break her cable in a storm, as well as I love her. Flesh, you don’t think I’m false-hearted, like a landman. A sailor will be honest, thof mayhap he has never a penny of money in his pocket. Mayhap I may not have so fair a face as a citizen or a courtier; but, for all that, I’ve as good blood in my veins, and a heart as sound as a biscuit.
BEN. Nay, an I love once, I’ll stick like pitch; I’ll tell you that. Come, I’ll sing you a song of a sailor.
MRS. FRAIL. Hold, there’s my sister, I’ll call her to hear it.
MRS. FORE. Well; I won’t go to bed to my husband to-night, because I’ll retire to my own chamber, and think of what you have said.
SCAN. Well; you’ll give me leave to wait upon you to your chamber door, and leave you my last instructions?
MRS. FORE. Hold, here’s my sister coming towards us.
MRS. FRAIL. If it won’t interrupt you I’ll entertain you with a song.
BEN. The song was made upon one of our ship’s-crew’s wife. Our boatswain made the song. Mayhap you may know her, sir. Before she was married she was called buxom Joan of Deptford.
A soldier and a sailor, A tinker and a tailor, Had once a doubtful strife, sir, To make a maid a wife, sir, Whose name was buxom Joan. For now the time was ended, When she no more intended To lick her lips at men, sir, And gnaw the sheets in vain, sir, And lie o’ nights alone.
The soldier swore like thunder, He loved her more than plunder, And shewed her many a scar, sir, That he had brought from far, sir, With fighting for her sake. The tailor thought to please her With offering her his measure. The tinker, too, with mettle Said he could mend her kettle, And stop up ev’ry leak.
But while these three were prating, The sailor slyly waiting, Thought if it came about, sir, That they should all fall out, sir, He then might play his part. And just e’en as he meant, sir, To loggerheads they went, sir, And then he let fly at her A shot ’twixt wind and water, That won this fair maid’s heart.
BEN. If some of our crew that came to see me are not gone, you shall see that we sailors can dance sometimes as well as other folks. [_Whistles_.] I warrant that brings ’em, an they be within hearing. [_Enter seamen_]. Oh, here they be—and fiddles along with ’em. Come, my lads, let’s have a round, and I’ll make one. [_Dance_.]