NICHOLAS.
Oh, my Cousin begins to speak to me now: I shall be
acquainted with him again, I hope.

SKIRMISH.
Look what ridiculous Raptures take hold of his wrinkles.

PYE.
Then, what say you to this device? a happy one, Captain?

CAPTAIN.
Speak low, George; Prison Rats have wider ears than those
in Malt-lofts.

NICHOLAS.
Cousin, if it lay in my power, as they say--to--do--

CAPTAIN.
Twould do me an exceeding pleasure, indeed, that, but ne'er
talk forder on't: the fool will be hang'd, ere he do't.

[To the Corporal.]

CORPORAL.
Pax, I'll thump 'im to't.

PYE.
Why, do but try the Fopster, and break it to him bluntly.