John. Never mind the rogues—
[Noise of fighting without, a piece let off.
Sir Geor. S'blood! Must I see my preserver perish. [Struggling.
John. Well, I know I'm your preserver, and I will perish, but I'll bring you out of harm's way.
[Still holding him.
Sir Geor. Though he'd fight me himself—
John. Sure we all know you'd fight the devil.
Sir Geor. He saved my life.
John. I'll save your life [Whips him up in his arms.] So hey! haul up, my noble little crab walk! [Exit.