Bright. It begins to thunder.
New. We will make bold to take our leaves.
Ware. What, is your captain fled?
Sea. Nay, gentlemen, forsake your company!
Bright. Sir, we have business. [Exeunt Bright and Newcut.
Sea. Troth, it is not kindly done.
Ware. Now, Master Seathrift,
You see what mourners we had had, had we
Been wreck'd in earnest. My griev'd nephew here
Had made my cellar flow with tears; my wines
Had charg'd glass-ordnance; our funerals had been
Bewail'd in pottle-draughts.
Sea. And at our graves
Your nephew and my son had made a panegyric,
And open'd all our virtues.
Ware. Ungrateful monster!
Sea. Unnatural villain!