Miss P. Now, Mr. Pickle, I insist upon your observing a proper decorum and behaviour towards this poor lad; observe the condescension of my deportment—methinks I feel a strange inclination already in his favour, perhaps I may advance him bye and bye, to be my page—shall I brother?—Oh, here he comes—and I declare, as prepossessing a countenance as ever I beheld.
Enter Margery and Little Pickle as a sailor boy.
Come hither child, was ever there such an engaging air?
Mar. Go Tommy, do as you are bid, there’s a good boy—thank his honour for his goodness to you.
Little P. Be you the old fellow that’s just come to be my father?
Pick. (aside) Old fellow! he’s devilish dashed to be sure—yes, I am the old fellow, as you call it—will you be a good boy?
Little P. Ay, but what will you gi’ me?—must I be good for nothing?
Pick. (mimicking) Good for nothing! nay, that I’ll swear you are already. Well, and how long have you been come from sea? eh, how do you like a sailor’s life?
Little Pickle, Sings.