Patch: Horrers!
Meg: I sees you swingin' on that gibbet—stretchin' with yer toes—swingin' in the wind.
Patch: Yer makes me grog sour on me.
(He goes to the rear of the cabin and looks disconsolately over the ocean.)
Meg: (as she looks in the glass). I sees misfortin fer everyone here—'cept one—tragedy, the gibbet. Go not upon the sea until the moon has turned. Ha! Leetle glass, has yer more to show? Has yer any comfort? The light fades out. It is dark.
Duke: Ain 't yer givin' us more 'n a sixpence worth o' misery? Yer gloom is sloppin' over the brim.
Meg: Ah! Here 's light agin at last. There 's a red streak across the dial. It drips! It 's blood!
Captain: Ain 't yer got any pretty picters in that glass?
Patch: Graveyards are cheerfuller 'n gibbets.
Meg: Peace! I sees a man in a velvet cloak. It 's him that swings yer to a gibbet. It 's him that strangles yer till yer eyes is poppin'. That man avoid like a pizened snake.