Cap. Which way? Why, which way you will: is not cozen him enough? thou art a pretty fellow, ile talke with thee. Thy name's Thomas; take heed, I say still, Thomas, of being drunke, for it doth drowne the mortall soule; and yours cannot swim, Thomas,—can it?
Tho. Not as I know, Captaine; if it scape fire tis as much as I looke for.
Within Eng. Oh—oh—
Cap. What's that?
Tho. Tis Mr. Engine recovered from his dead sleepe. [Exit.
Un. D'ee heare, Captaine, for all this I have a great mind to a wench, and a wench I must have if there be one above ground. Oh London, London, thou art full of frank tenements, give me London. Shall we wheele about yet?
Cap. Give you London? Wo'nott Cheapeside serve your turne, or the Exchange?
Enter Thomas.
Tho. Oh, gentlemen, Mr. Engine is surely bewitch'd.
Cap. What, what's the matter? bring the witch and Mr. Engine before us.