ACT I.
SCENE I--_A Wood_.
_Enter_ GONSALVO _and a Servant_.
_Gon_. Nay, 'twas a strange as well as cruel storm,
To take us almost in the port of Sevile,
And drive us up as far as Barcelona;
The whole plate fleet was scattered, some part wrecked;
There one might see the sailors diligent
To cast o'erboard the merchant's envied wealth,
While he, all pale and dying, stood in doubt,
Whether to ease the burden of the ship,
By drowning of his ingots, or himself.
_Serv_. Fortune, sir, is a woman everywhere,
But most upon the sea.
_Gons_. Had that been all,
I should not have complained; but, ere we could
Repair our ship, to drive us back again,
Was such a cruelty--
_Serv_. Yet that short time you staid at Barcelona
You husbanded so well, I think you left
A mistress there.
_Gons_. I made some small essays
Of love; what might have been I cannot tell:
But, to leave that, upon what part of Spain
Are we now cast?
_Serv_. Sir, I take that city to be Alicant.
_Gons_. Some days must of necessity be spent
In looking to our ship; then back again
For Sevile.
_Serv_. There you're sure you shall be welcome.
_Gons_. Aye, if my brother Rodoric be returned
From Flanders; but 'tis now three years since I
Have heard from him, and, since I saw him, twelve.
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