Raffe Tis braue (my boyes) to saile on Land,
We can cry stand.
For being well Man'd, 90
Dicke. The trade of pursing neare shal faile,
Vntil the Hangman cryes strike saile.
Omnes. Roue then no matter whither,
In faire or stormy wether. 95
And as wee liue, lets dye together, One Hempen Caper cuts a feather.
〈Enter in her disguise〉 GALLATHEAalone.
Galla. BLush Gallathea that must frame thy affection fitte for thy habite, and therefore be thought immodest, because thou art vnfortunate. Thy tender yeeres cannot dissemble this deceipt, nor thy sexe beare it. O woulde the gods had made mee as I seeme
|to be, or that. I might safelie be what I seeme not. Thy Father||5|
|art, when thou shouldest onelie counterfet what thou art not? But||10|
Enter PHILLIDAin mans attire.
Phil. I neither like my gate, nor my garments; the one vntoward, the other vnfit, both vnseemely. O Phillida !--but yonder staieth
|one, and therefore say nothing. But ô Phillida!||15|
Galla. 〈aside〉. I perceiue that boyes are in as great disliking of themselues as maides, therefore though I weare the apparell, I am glad I am not the person.
Phil. 〈aside〉. It is a pretty boy and a faire, hee might well haue
|beene a woman; but because he is not, I am glad I am, for nowe||20|