Med. Eat up by the black devils, I warrant; for I left him in hellish hungry company.
Sir Chr. Pshaw! he'll arrive with the next vessel, depend on't—besides, have not I had this in view ever since they were children? I must and will have it so, I tell you. Is not it, as it were, a marriage made above? They shall meet, I'm positive.
Med. Shall they? Then they must meet where the marriage was made; for hang me, if I think it will ever happen below.
Sir Chr. Ha!—and if that is the case—hang me, if I think you'll ever be at the celebration of it.
Med. Yet, let me tell you, Sir Christopher Curry, my character is as unsullied as a sheet of white paper.
Sir Chr. Well said, old fool's-cap! and it's as mere a blank as a sheet of white paper. You are honest, old Medium, by comparison, just as a fellow sentenced to transportation is happier than his companion condemned to the gallows—Very worthy, because you are no rogue; tender hearted, because you never go to fires and executions; and an affectionate father and husband, because you never pinch your children, or kick your wife out of bed.
Med. And that, as the world goes, is more than every man can say for himself. Yet, since you force me to speak my positive qualities—but, no matter,—you remember me in London; didn't I, as member of the Humane Society, bring a man out of the New River, who, it was afterwards found, had done me an injury?
Sir Chr. And, dam'me, if I would not kick any man into the New River that had done me an injury. There's the difference of our honesty. Oons! if you want to be an honest fellow, act from the impulse of nature. Why, you have no more gall than a pigeon.
Med. And you have as much gall as a turkey cock, and are as hot into the bargain—You're always so hasty; among the hodge-podge of your foibles, passion is always predominant.
Sir Chr. So much the better.——Foibles, quotha? foibles are foils that give additional lustre to the gems of virtue. You have not so many foils as I, perhaps.