'Tis
an ill wind that blows nobody good. Well, you may rejoice over my
ill fortune, since it paid the price of your ransom.
SIR JO. I rejoice! agad, not I, sir: I'm very sorry for your
loss, with all my heart, blood and guts, sir; and if you did but
know me, you'd ne'er say I were so ill-natured.
SHARP. Know you! Why, can you be so ungrateful to forget me?
SIR JO. O Lord, forget him! No, no, sir, I don't forget you--
because I never saw your face before, agad. Ha, ha, ha!
SHARP. How! [Angrily.]
SIR JO. Stay, stay, sir, let me recollect--he's a damned angry
fellow--I believe I had better remember him, until I can get out of
his sight; but out of sight out of mind, agad. [Aside.]
SHARP. Methought the service I did you last night, sir, in
preserving you from those ruffians, might have taken better root in
your shallow memory.
SIR JO. Gads-daggers-belts-blades and scabbards, this is the very
gentleman! How shall I make him a return suitable to the greatness
of his merit? I had a pretty thing to that purpose, if he ha'n't
frighted it out of my memory.
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