Enter Haunce in a fantastical travelling Habit, with a Bottle of Brandy in his Hand, as sick: Gload marches after.
Hau. [Ah, ah, a pox of all Sea-Voyages.] [Drinks.
Here, Gload, take thee t’other Sope, and then let’s home. [Gload drinks.
Ah, ah, a pox of all Sea-Voyages.
Gload. Sir, if I may advise, take t’other turn in the Grove, for I find by my Nose you want more airing.
Hau. How, Sirrah! by your Nose? have a care, you know ’tis ill jesting with me when I’m angry.
Gload. Which is as often as you are drunk; I find it has the same Effects on me too: but truly, Sir, I meant no other than that you smell a little of the Vessel, a certain sour remains of a Storm about you.
Hau. Ah, ah, do not name a Storm to me, unless thou wilt have the Effects on’t in thy Face. [Drinks.
Gload. Sha, sha, bear up, Sir, bear up.