Boatman.
The handspike, Bill—quick, bear a hand! now Ma’am, just step ashore!
Mrs. F.
What! an’t I going to be kill’d—and welter’d in my gore?
Well, Heaven be praised! but I’ll not go a-sailing any more!
GOG AND MAGOG.
A GUILDHALL DUET.
MAGOG.
Why, Gog, I say, it’s after One,
And yet no dinner carved;
Shall we endure this sort of fun,
And stand here to be starved?
GOG.
I really think our City Lords
Must be a shabby set;
I’ve stood here since King Charles’s time,
And had no dinner yet!