’Tis said you have a ship at your command—
An’ please you, sir, I’m weary of the land,
And I have read of foreign parts such things
As make me sick of Uncle’s wheels and springs.”
“But, Thomas, why to sea? you look too slim
For that rough work—and, Thomas, can you swim?”
That he could not, but still he scorn’d a lie, 950
And boldly answer’d, “No, but I can try.”—
“Well, my good lad, but tell me, can you read?”
Now, with some pride he answer’d, “Yes, indeed!