Pris. An’t please your Worship’s Honour, my Lord, I am as honest a poor Fellow as ever went between Stem and Stern of a Ship, and can hand, reef, steer, and clap two Ends of a Rope together, as well as e’er a He that ever cross’d salt Water; but I was taken by one George Bradley [the Name of him that sat as Judge,] a notorious Pyrate, a sad Rogue as ever was unhang’d, and he forc’d me, an’t please your Honour.
Judge. Answer me, Sirrah,—How will you be try’d?
Pris. By G— and my Country.
Judge. The Devil you will.—Why then, Gentlemen of the Jury, I think we have nothing to do but to proceed to Judgment.
Attor. Gen. Right, my Lord; for if the Fellow should be suffer’d to speak, he may clear himself, and that’s an Affront to the Court.
Pris. Pray, my Lord, I hope your Lordship will consider—
Judge. Consider!—How dare you talk of considering? —Sirrah, Sirrah, I never consider’d in all my Life. —I’ll make it Treason to consider.
Pris. But, I hope, your Lordship will hear some Reason.
Judge. D’ye hear how the Scoundrel prates?—What have we to do with Reason?—I’d have you to know, Raskal, we don’t sit here to hear Reason;—we go according to Law.—Is our Dinner ready?
Attor. Gen. Yes, my Lord.