Hell. Hah! I thought they had serv’d me some such Trick.
Will. And I was e’en resolv’d to go aboard, condemn my self to my lone Cabin, and the Thoughts of thee.
Hell. And cou’d you have left me behind? wou’d you have been so ill-natur’d?
Will. Why, ’twou’d have broke my Heart, Child—but since we are met again, I defy foul Weather to part us.
Hell. And wou’d you be a faithful Friend now, if a Maid shou’d trust you?
Will. For a Friend I cannot promise, thou art of a Form so excellent, a Face and Humour too good for cold dull Friendship; I am parlously afraid of being in love, Child, and you have not forgot how severely you have us’d me.
Hell. That’s all one, such Usage you must still look for, to find out all your Haunts, to rail at you to all that love you, till I have made you love only me in your own Defence, because no body else will love.
Will. But hast thou no better Quality to recommend thy self by?
Hell. Faith none, Captain—Why, ’twill be the greater Charity to take me for thy Mistress, I am a lone Child, a kind of Orphan Lover; and why I shou’d die a Maid, and in a Captain’s Hands too, I do not understand.
Will. Egad, I was never claw’d away with Broad-Sides from any Female before, thou hast one Virtue I adore, good-Nature; I hate a coy demure Mistress, she’s as troublesome as a Colt, I’ll break none; no, give me a mad Mistress when mew’d, and in flying on[e] I dare trust upon the Wing, that whilst she’s kind will come to the Lure.