None but madmen.
_Mild_. Why thou of none, thrifty and well advised,
Stryvest thou to make mee such, where's now the gayne
And proffitt promist? the riche marchandyse
Of lust and whooringe? the greate usury
Got by the sale of wantons? these cursed jewelryes
With all the wealthe and treasure that I had,[95]
All perisht in one bottom, and all, all,
Through thy malicious counsell.
_Sarlab_. Curse thy selfe.
The trusty bark, ore laden with thy sinnes,
Baudryes, grosse lyes, thy theft and perjuryes
Beesydes the burdene of thy ill gott gooddes,
Not able to indure so greate a weight
Was forct to sinke beneathe them.[96]
_Mild_. Out, dogge!
_Sarl_. Out, devill!
_Mild_. By thee I am made nothinge. Oh my giurles
You sweete and never faylinge marchandyse,
Comodityes in all coasts, worthy coyne,
Christiane or heathen! by whom in distresses
I coold have raysed a fortune! more undoone
That I should loose you thus!
_Sarl_. I knowe hee had rather
See halfe a hundred of them burnt[97] a land
Then one destroyde by water. But, oh _Neptune_,
I feare I have supt so much of thy salt brothe
Twill bringe mee to a feavour.
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