Kit. You’re right there, Pew. Shake hands upon it. And you’re a man they’re down upon, just like myself, I see. We’re a pair of plain, good-hearted, jolly tars; and all these ’longshore fellows cock a lip at us, by George. What cheer, mate?
Arethusa (without). Mrs. Drake! Mrs. Drake!
Pew. What, a female? hey? a female? Board her board her, mate! I’m dark. (He retires again behind, to table, R., behind settle.)
Arethusa (without). Mrs. Drake!
Mrs. Drake (re-entering and running to door). Here I am, my dear; come in.
SCENE III
To these, Arethusa
Arethusa. Ah, Kit, I’ve found you. I thought you would lodge with Mrs. Drake.
Kit. What? are you looking for your consort? Whistle, I’m your dog; I’ll come to you. I’ve been toasting you fathom deep, my beauty; and with every glass I love you dearer.
Arethusa. Now Kit, if you want to please my father, this is not the way. Perhaps he thinks too much of the guineas: well, gather them—if you think me worth the price. Go you to your sloop, clinker built, eighty tons burthen—you see I remember, Skipper Kit! I don’t deny I like a man of spirit; but if you care to please Captain Gaunt, keep out of taverns; and if you could carry yourself a bit more—more elderly!