O. Fos. Undone for ever! Where could this mischief fall?
Were not my ships in their full pride at Dover;
And what English Charybdis has the devil digg'd
To swallow nearer home.
Rich. Even in the mouth
And entrance of the Thames they were all cast away.
O. Fos. Dam up thy mouth
From any further mischievous relation.
Rich. Some men were sav'd, but not one pennyworth
Of goods.
O. Fos. Even now thy baleful utterance
Was chok'd, and now it runs too fast;
Thou fatal bird, no more.
Mrs Fos. May serpents breed,
And fill this fatal stream, and poison her for ever.
O. Fos. O, curse not; they come too fast!
Mrs Fos. Let me curse somewhere, wretch, or else I'll throw
Them all on thee; 'tis thou, ungodly slave,
That art the mark unto the wrath of heaven:
I thriv'd ere I knew thee.
O. Fos. I prythee, split me too.
Mrs Fos. I would I could! I would I had ne'er seen thee,
For I ne'er saw hour of comfort since I knew thee.