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SCENE III] LOVE FOR LOVE 241<br />
end;—and mayhap I like you as little as you do me.—<br />
What I said was in obedience to father; gad, I fear a whipping<br />
no more than you do. But I tell you one thing, if you<br />
should give such language at sea you'd have a cat o' ninetails<br />
laid across your shoulders. Flesh! who are you? You<br />
heard t'other handsome young woman speak civilly to me,<br />
of her own accord: whatever you think of yourself, gad,<br />
T don't think you are any more to compare to her than a<br />
can of small beer to a bowl of punch.<br />
Pruc. Well, and there's a handsome gentleman, and a<br />
fine gentleman, and a sweet gentleman, that was here, that<br />
loves me, and I love him; and if he sees you speak to me<br />
any more he'll thrash your jacket for you, he will, you great<br />
sea-calf!<br />
Ben. What, do you mean that fair-weather spark that was<br />
here just now? will he thrash my jacket?—let'n—let'n.<br />
Rut an he comes near me, mayhap I may giv'n a salt eel<br />
for's supper, for all that. What does father mean tn leave<br />
me alone as soon as I come home, with such a dirty dowdy?<br />
Sea-calf! I an't calf enough to lick your chalked face, you<br />
cheese-curd you!—Marry thee! 'oons, I'll marry a Lapland<br />
witch as soon, and live upon selling contrary winds and<br />
wrecked vessels.<br />
Pruc. I won't be called names, nor I won't be abused thus,<br />
so I won't.—If I were a man [Cries], you durst not talk<br />
at this rate;—no, you durst not, you stinking tar-barrel!<br />
Enter Mrs. FORESIGHT and Mrs. FRAIL.<br />
Mrs. Fore. [Aside to Mrs. FRAIL.] They have quarrelled<br />
just as we could wish.<br />
Ben. Tar-barrel? let your sweetheart there call me so<br />
if he'll take your part, vour Tom Essence, and I'll sav<br />
something to him; ^ad, I'll lare his musk doublet for him!<br />
I'll make him stink! he shall smeH more like a weasel than<br />
a civet cat afore I ha' done with 'en.<br />
Mrs. Fore. Bless me, what's the matter, miss? What, does<br />
she cry?—Mr. Benjamin, what have you done to her?<br />
Ben. Let her cry: the more she cries, the less she'll—she<br />
has been gathering foul weather in her mouth, and now<br />
it rains nut at her eyes.<br />
Mrs. Fore. Come, miss, come along with me, and tell me,<br />
poor child.<br />
Mrs. Frail. Lord, what shall we do? there's my brother
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