"'Tis that you should think me a scurvy fellow that you dare affront with the offer of such an errand."
"Why, 'tis no scurvy errand. I only ask you to persuade her to meet me. I would approach her myself, but I am suspected and cannot come at her without her connivance. I need one whom her people have not marked, to speak to her for me. I take it you have the wit to reach her ear. I would have you carry her my praises, and vows, and solicitations for a meeting; and describe me to her as you see me, as a liberal, well-inclined gentleman."
"Ay, in short, you ask me to play the go-between."
"Oh, pshaw, man! stumble not at mere names."
"The names for such business are none too sweet, in troth!"
"They are but names. And sweet names may be coined for it. Love's ambassador, Cupid's orator, heart's emissary,—call yourself so, and the business becomes honourable."
"Faith, I have long known things are odious or honourable in accordance with the names they're called by. But I am not for your business."
"Why, you have no choice. You are bound to it by the clothes you wear, bought with my money—"
"I can e'en doff these clothes, as I have doffed others," said the captain, though somewhat disconsolately.