(He crosses to the table and draws the pirates around him.)
Captain: Here 's to the Royal 'Arry!
Duke: And may the helmsman be wery sleepy!
Darlin': And we as innercent as leetle pirates suckin' at their bottles!
All: The Royal 'Arry!
(While the cups are still aloft there is a loud banging at the door. An old woman enters—old Meg. We have seen her but a minute since pass the windows. Perhaps she is as dirty as Darlin'. A sprig of mistletoe, even at the reckless New Year, would wither in despair. She is a gypsy in gorgeous skirt and shawl, and she wears gold earrings. Any well-instructed nurse-maid would huddle her children close if she heard her tapping up the street. Meg walks to the table. She sniffs audibly. It is grog—her weakness. She drinks the dregs of all three cups. She rubs her thrifty finger inside the rims and licks it for the precious drop. She opens her wallet and takes from it a fortune-teller's crystal.)
Meg: I tells fortins, gentlemen. Would n't any o' yer like ter see the future? I sees what 's comin' in this here magic glass. I tells yer when ter set yer nets—and of rising storms. Has any o' yer a kind o' hankerin' fer matrimony? I can tell yer if the lady be light or dark. It will cost yer only a sixpence.
Captain: Yer insults me. Fer better and fer worse is usual fer worse. Does yer think yer can anchor an ol' sea-dog like me to a kennel as is made fer landlubbery lap dogs? I 've deserted three wives. And that 's enough. More 's a hog.
(He retires to the fireplace in disgust.)
Darlin': Husbands is nuisances, as I was tellin' the sea-captain, jest afore he cut his throat.