PYE. Captain Idle, what’s he there? he looks like a Monkey upward, and a Crane down-ward.
CAPTAIN.
Pshaw, a foolish Cousin of mine; I must thank God for him.
PYE. Why, the better subject to work a scape upon; thou shalt o’en change clothes with him, and leave him here, and so—
CAPTAIN. Push, I publish’t him e’en now to my Corporal: he will be damned, ere he do me so much good; why, I know a more proper, a more handsome device than that, if the slave would be sociable. Now, goodman Fleer-face.
NICHOLAS. Oh, my Cousin begins to speak to me now: I shall be acquainted with him again, I hope.
SKIRMISH.
Look what ridiculous Raptures take hold of his wrinkles.
PYE.
Then, what say you to this device? a happy one, Captain?
CAPTAIN. Speak low, George; Prison Rats have wider ears than those in Malt-lofts.
NICHOLAS.
Cousin, if it lay in my power, as they say—to—do—
CAPTAIN. Twould do me an exceeding pleasure, indeed, that, but ne’er talk forder on’t: the fool will be hang’d, ere he do’t.