Inkle. Then, sir, you cannot feel my situation.
Plant. Oh yes, I can! we have a hundred such cases just after a voyage; but they never last long on land. It's amazing how constant a young man is in a ship! But, in two words, will you dispose of her, or no?
Inkle. In two words, then, meet me here at noon, and we'll speak further on this subject: and lest you think I trifle with your business, hear why I wish this pause. Chance threw me, on my passage to your island, among a savage people. Deserted,—defenceless,—cut off from companions,—my life at stake—to this young creature I owe my preservation;—she found me, like a dying bough, torn from its kindred branches; which, as it drooped, she moistened with her tears.
Plant. Nay, nay, talk like a man of this world.
Inkle. Your patience.—And yet your interruption goes to my present feelings; for on our sail to this your island—the thoughts of time mispent—doubt—fears—for call it what you will—have much perplexed me; and as your spires arose, reflections still rose with them; for here, sir, lie my interests, great connexions, and other weighty matters—which now I need not mention——
Plant. But which her presence here will mar.
Inkle. Even so—And yet the gratitude I owe her—
Plant. Pshaw! So because she preserved your life, your gratitude is to make you give up all you have to live upon.
Inkle. Why, in that light indeed—This never struck me yet, I'll think on't.
Plant. Aye, aye, do so—Why, what return can the wench wish more than taking her from a wild, idle, savage people, and providing for her, here, with reputable hard work, in a genteel, polished, tender, christian country?