Why, my dear sir—a drowned corpse——!
Peer.
Blasphemer! You’re goading the rage of the storm!
I call it too bad! Here it’s raining and blowing,
A terrible sea on, and all sorts of signs
Of something that’s likely to shorten our days;—
And you carry on so as to make it come quicker.[quicker.]
The Passenger.
You’re in no mood, I see, to negotiate further;
But time, you know, brings with it many a change——