Lieut. O luck!
Capt. A gale of wind did but creep o'er the bottom, and, because I heard things stir, I stayed; 'twas twelve score past me.
Lieut. The pottle-pots will sleep in peace to-night.
Capt. And the sweet clinks.
Lieut. The clattering of pipes.
Capt. The Spanish fumes.
Lieut. The More wine, boy, the nimble Anon, anon, sir.[27]
Capt. All to-night will be nothing; come, we must shift. 'Sfoot, what a witty rogue 'twas to leave this fair thirteenpence halfpenny and this old halter; intimating aptly,
Had the hangman met us there, by these presages,
Here had been his work, and here his wages.[28]
Lieut. Come, come, we must make friends. [Exeunt.