Cyph. Thank your worship. [Exit Cypher.
Ware. Why should I not now hang myself? Or, if
It be a fate that will more hide itself,
And keep me from discredit, tie some weight
About my neck to sink me to the bottom
O' th' Thames, not to be found, [and so] to keep my body
From rising up and telling tales. Two wrecks,
And both worth forty thousand pound there! Why,
That landed here were worth an hundred. I
Will drown myself. I nothing have to do
Now in this world but drown myself.
Plot. Fie! these
Are desperate resolutions. Take heart, sir;
There may be ways yet to relieve you.
Ware. How?
Plot. Why, for your lost ships, say, sir, I should bring
Two o' th' Assurance Office that should warrant
Their safe return? 'Tis not known yet: would you
Give three parts to secure the fourth?
Ware. I'd give ten to secure one.
Plot. Well, sir, and for your wife,
Say I should prove it were no lawful match,
And that she is another man's—you'd take
The piece of service well?
Ware. Yes, and repent
That when I had so good an heir begot
Unto my hand, I was so rash to aim
At one of my own dotage.
Plot. Say no more, sir;
But keep the sailor, that he stir not. We'll
About it straight. [Exeunt Plotwell and Roseclap.
Ware. How much I was deceiv'd
To think ill of my nephew, in whose revenge
I see the heavens frown on me! Seas and winds
Swell and rage for him against me; but I will
Appease their furies, and be reconciled.