Captain: This here Prince o' Wales is journeyin' down Plymouth way.
Duke: What 's that ter us? I 'm askin' yer. His 'Ighness cut me when I passed him in Piccadilly. The bloomin' swab! I pulled me hat, standin' in the gutter, but he jest seemed ter smell somethin'.
Patch: It were n't roses, I 'm tellin' yer.
Captain: Silence! They say he has sworn an oath to break up the pirate business on the coast.
Patch: And let us starve? It 's unfeelin'.
Duke: No pickin's on the beach?
Joe: I 'd like to catch him. I 'd slit his wizen.
Darlin': I 'd put pizen in the pig I feeds him.
Duke: I 'd nudge him off the cliff—jest like he were a sneakin' snooper.
Captain: Well, there 's yer news! I 'm dry. Darlin'! Some grog!