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280 WILLIAM CONGREVE [ACT v
and destroy that usurper of a bed called a warming-pan.
Mrj. Fore, I'm glad to hear you have so much fire in
you, Sir Sampson.
Ben. Mess, I fear his fire's little better than tinder; mayhap
it will only serve to light up a match for somebody else.
The young woman's a handsome young woman, I can't
deny it; but, father, if I might be your pilot in this case,
you should not marry her. It's just the same thing, as if so
be you should sail so far as the Straits without provision.
Sir Samp. Who gave you authority to speak, sirrah? To
your element, fish! be mute, fish, and to sea! rule your
helm, sirrah, don't direct me.
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 scroundrel? I would not so much as have
him the prospect of an estate; though there were no way
to come to it but by the north-east passage.
Bucl^. Sir, it is drawn according to your directions, there
is not the least cranny of the law unstopped.
Ben. Lawyer, I believe there's many a cranny and leak
unstopped 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?
Enter TATTLE and Mrs. FRAIL.
Mrs. Frail. O sister, the most unlucky accident!
Mrs. Fore. What's the matter?
Tat. Oh, the two most unfortunate poor creatures in
the world we are!
Fore. Bless us! how so?
Mrs. Frail. Ah, Mr. Tattle and I, poor Mr. Tattle and
I are—I can't speak it out.
Tat. Nor I—but poor Mrs. Frail and I are—
Mrs Frail. Married.
Mrs. Fore. Married! How?