Cas.
Thanks to the valiant of this warlike isle,
That so approve the Moor: oh, let the heav'ns
Give him defence against the elements,
For I have lost him on a dangerous sea.

Mont.
Is he well shipp'd?

Cas.
His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot
Of very expert and approv'd allowance;
Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,
Stand in bold cure.

Within.]
A sail, a sail, a sail!

Cas.
What noise?

Gent.
The town is empty; on the brow o'th' sea
Stand ranks of people, and they cry, a sail.

Cas.
My hopes do shape him for the Governor.

Gent.
They do discharge their shot of courtesie:
Our friends, at least.

Cas.
I pray you, Sir, go forth,

And give us truth who 'tis that is arriv'd.

Gent.
I shall. [Exit.

Mont.
But, good lieutenant, is your General wiv'd?

Cas.
Most fortunately, he hath atchiev'd a maid
That paragons description and wild fame:
One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,
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