Ware. O nephew, I am not well, I am not well!
Plot. I hope you are not married?
Ware. It is too true.
Rose. God help you, then!
Ware. Amen. Nephew, forgive me.
Rose. Alas! good gentleman!
Plot. Would you trust Bannswright, sir?
Ware. Nephew, in hell
There's not a torment for him. O that I could
But see that cheating rogue upon the rack now!
I'd give a thousand pound for every stretch,
That should enlarge the rogue through all his joints,
And but just show him hell, and then recall
His broken soul, and give him strength to suffer
His torture often. I would have the rascal
Think hanging a relief, and be as long
A-dying as a chopp'd eel, that the devil
Might have his soul by pieces. Who's here? a sailor?
SCENE IV.
Enter Cypher, like a sailor.