Kate. Why, captain, though ye be a man of war, you cannot subdue affection. You have no alacrity in your eye, and you speak as if you were in a dream. You are of so melancholy and dull a disposition, that on my conscience you would never get children; nay, nor on my body neither; and what a sin were it in me, and a most pregnant sign of concupiscence, to marry a man that wants the mettle of generation, since that is the blessing ordained for marriage, procreation the only end of it. Besides, if I could love you, I shall be here at home, and you in Cleveland abroad—I among the bold Britons, and you among the hot-shots.
Sir J. Wor. No more puffing, captain;
Leave batteries with your breath: the short is this.
This worthy count this morning makes my son,
And with that happy marriage this proceeds.
Worldly's my name, worldly must be my deeds.
Capt. Pouts. I will pray for civil wars, to cut thy throat
Without danger, merchant. I will turn pirate,
But I'll be reveng'd on thee.
Strange. Do, captain, do:
A halter will take up our quarrel then.
Capt. Pouts. 'Swounds! I'll be reveng'd upon ye all!
The strange adventure thou art now to make
In that small pinnace, is more perilous
Than any hazard thou could'st undergo.
Remember, a scorn'd soldier told thee so.
[Exit Captain Pouts.
Strange. Go, walk the captain, good Sir Abraham.
Abra. Good faith, sir, I had rather walk your horse.
I will not meddle with him. I would not keep
Him company in his drink for a world.
Sir J. Wor. But
What good do you, Sir Abraham, on my daughter?
I could be e'en content, my Lucida
Would skip your wit and look upon your wealth,
And this one day let Hymen crown ye all.
Abra. O no, she laughs at me and scorns my suit:
For she is wilder and more hard withal,
Than beast or bird, or tree, or stony wall.
Kate. Ha! God-a-mercy, old Hieronimo.[25]