CAPTAIN.
O, wonderful convenient.
EDMOND. I can tell you, Captain, simply tho it lies here, tis the fairest Room in my Mother’s house: as dainty a Room to Conjure in, me thinks—why, you may bid, I cannot tell how many devils welcome in’t; my Father has had twenty here at once.
PYE.
What, devils?
EDMOND.
Devils? no, Deputies, and the wealthiest men he could get.
SIR GODFREY. Nay, put by your chats now, fall to your business roundly: the feskewe of the Dial is upon the Chrisse-crosse of Noon, but oh, hear me, Captain, a qualm comes ore my stomach.
CAPTAIN.
Why, what’s the matter, sir?
SIR GODFREY. Oh, how if the devil should prove a knave, and tear the hangings?
CAPTAIN.
Fuh, I warrant you, Sir Godfrey.
EDMOND.
Aye, Nuncle, or spit fire up’oth ceiling!
SIR GODFREY. Very true, too, for tis but thin plastered, and twill quickly take hold a the laths, and if he chance to spit downward too, he will burn all the boards.