_ Not any yet Sir.
_1 Mer._ 'Tis strange. [_Exit._
_Gos._ 'Tis true Sir: what a voyce was here now?
This was one passing bell, a thousand ravens
Sung in that man now, to presage my ruins.
_2 Mer._ _Goswin_, good day, these winds are very constant.
_Gos._ They are so Sir; to hurt--
_2 Mer._ Ha' you had no letters
Lately from _England_, nor from _Denmark_?
_Gos._ Neither.
_2 Mer._ This wind brings them; nor no news over land,
Through _Spain_, from the _Straights_?
_Gos._ Not any.
_2 Mer._ I am sorry Sir. [_Exit._
_Gos._ They talk me down: and as 'tis said of Vulturs
They scent a field fought, and do smell the carkasses
By many hundred miles: So do these, my wracks
At greater distances. Why, thy will Heaven
Come on, and be: yet if thou please, preserve me;
But in my own adventure, here at home,
Of my chast love, to keep me worthy of her,
It shall be put in scale 'gainst all ill fortunes:
I am not broken yet: nor should I fall,
Me thinks with less than that, that ruins all. [_Exit._
SCENA III.
_Enter_ Van-dunck, Hubert, Hemskirk, _and_ Margaret, Boors.
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