SIR GODFREY. So long a coming? oh, would I had ne’er begun’t now, for I fear me these roaring tempests will destroy all the fruits of the earth, and tread upon my corn—oh!—ith Country.
CAPTAIN. Gog de gog, hobgoblin, huncks, hounslow, hockley te coome parke.
WIDOW.
[At the door.] O brother, brother, what a tempests ith
Garden: sure there’s some conjuration abroad.
SIR GODFREY.
Tis at home, sister!
PYE.
By and by, I’ll step in, Captain.
CAPTAIN.
Nunck—Nunck—Rip—Gascoynes, Ipis, Drip—Dropite.
SIR GODFREY.
He drips and drops, poor man! alas, alas.
PYE.
Now I come.
CAPTAIN.
O Sulphure Sooteface—
PYE.
Arch-conjurer, what wouldst thou with me?