MANDERS. Give me your hand, Jacob Engstrand.
ENGSTRAND. Oh, Lord! your Reverence—
MANDERS. Come, no nonsense [wrings his hand]. There we are!
ENGSTRAND. And if I might humbly beg your Reverence's pardon—
MANDERS. You? On the contrary, it is I who ought to beg your pardon—
ENGSTRAND. Lord, no, Sir!
MANDERS. Yes, assuredly. And I do it with all my heart. Forgive me for misunderstanding you. I only wish I could give you some proof of my hearty regret, and of my good-will towards you—
ENGSTRAND. Would your Reverence do it?
MANDERS. With the greatest pleasure.
ENGSTRAND. Well then, here's the very chance. With the bit of money I've saved here, I was thinking I might set up a Sailors' Home down in the town.