BEN. Well, well, take you care of your own helm, or you mayn’t keep your new vessel steady.
SIR SAMP. Why, you impudent tarpaulin! Sirrah, do you bring your forecastle jests upon your father? But I shall be even with you, I won’t give you a groat. Mr. Buckram, is the conveyance so worded that nothing can possibly descend to this scoundrel? I would not so much as have him have the prospect of an estate, though there were no way to come to it, but by the North-East Passage.
BUCK. Sir, it is drawn according to your directions; there is not the least cranny of the law unstopt.
BEN. Lawyer, I believe there’s many a cranny and leak unstopt in your conscience. If so be that one had a pump to your bosom, I believe we should discover a foul hold. They say a witch will sail in a sieve: but I believe the devil would not venture aboard o’ your conscience. And that’s for you.
SIR SAMP. Hold your tongue, sirrah. How now, who’s here?
SCENE XI.
[To them] Tattle and Mrs. Frail.
MRS. FRAIL. O sister, the most unlucky accident.
MRS. FORE. What’s the matter?
TATT. Oh, the two most unfortunate poor creatures in the world we are.