John. No, no, my lady, she knows what she's saying very well.
Sir Geo. Niece, I have been a villain to this lady, I confess. But, my dear Amelia, Providence has done you justice in part. From the first month I quitted you, I have never entered one happy hour on my journal; hearing that you foundered, and considering myself the cause, the worm of remorse has gnawed my timbers.
Amelia. You're not still offended with me?
Sir Geo. Me! can you forgive my offence, and condescend to take my hand as an atonement?
Amelia. Your hand! Do you forget that we are already married?
Sir Geo. Ay, there was my rascality.
John. You may say that.
Sir Geo. Hold your tongue, you impudent crimp, you pander, you bad adviser—I'll strike my false colours—I'll now acknowledge the chaplain you provided was—
John. Was a good man, and a greater honour to his black, than your honour has been to your blue cloth—Eh, by the word of a seaman, here he is himself.
Enter Banks.