And if you are bent upon mutual drubbing,
You must quite have parted with reason.
Mare clausum, be blowed! That's all BLAINE's big bow-wow, Mates.
Men can't thus monopolise oceans.
Diplomacy must find a compromise now, Mates,
And, well—I have told you my notions.
Give me a close-time,—I shall be very grateful—
And leave the Sea open! What more, Mates?
For brothers like you to be huffing, is hateful.
Be friends, think of me, and—bong swor, Mates!