For I haue lost him on a dangerous Sea

Mon. Is he well ship'd?
Cassio. His Barke is stoutly Timber'd, and his Pylot
Of verie expert, and approu'd Allowance;
Therefore my hope's (not surfetted to death)
Stand in bold Cure

Within. A Saile, a Saile, a Saile

Cassio. What noise?
Gent. The Towne is empty; on the brow o'th' Sea
Stand rankes of People and they cry, a Saile

Cassio. My hopes do shape him for the Gouernor

Gent. They do discharge their Shot of Courtesie,
Our Friends, at least

Cassio. I pray you Sir, go forth,
And giue vs truth who 'tis that is arriu'd

Gent. I shall.
Enter.

Mon. But good Lieutenant, is your Generall wiu'd?
Cassio. Most fortunately: he hath atchieu'd a Maid
That paragons description, and wilde Fame:
One that excels the quirkes of Blazoning pens,
And in th' essentiall Vesture of Creation,