Duke: Them gay clothes. Who owned 'em, I asks yer, afore we stole 'em.
Patch: Darlin'! Me friend, the Duke, is thirsty. Yer had better mix another pot. Our cups is low. Yer does n't want ter be a foolish virgin and get ketched without no grog.
Duke: With this bit o' slop what 's left I drinks to yer shinin' lamps—Wenus's flashin' gigs.
Her apron is towel, dust rag, mop and handkerchief Darlin': I loves yer, Duke.
(She fills, mixes and stirs the pot. She tastes it like a practiced house-wife. Her apron is maid of all work. It is towel, dust-rag, mop and handkerchief.)
Duke: What does yer make, ol' Cyclops, o' the new recruit?
Patch: Red Joe?
Duke: Him.
Patch: He 's a right smart pirate, I says. I never seen a feller as could shoot so straight.