Quart. How now, mad lads; what! is the storm broke up?
Sale. What, sad, like broken gamesters! Master Timothy,
'Slight, who would think your father should lay wheels[239]
To catch you thus?
Tim. If ever I be drunk with captains more——
Plot. Where's Bright and Newcut?
Sale. They were sent for to the Temple, but left word
They would be here at supper.
Plot. They are sure friends to leave us in distress.
Quart. What a mad plot
These two old merchants had contriv'd, to feign
A voyage, then to hunt you out disguised,
And hear themselves abused?
Sale. We heard all.
Quart. If I had stay'd, they had paid me for a captain.
Sale. They had a fling at me. But do you think
Your uncle in this furious mood will marry?