Pew. Come now, you walk!
Mrs. Drake. O, it’s not for your bidding. You a seaman? The ship for you to sail in is the hangman’s cart.—Good-night, Kit dear, and better company!
SCENE VI
Pew, Kit. They sit at the other table, L.
Pew. Commander, here’s her ’ealth!
Kit. Ay, that’s the line: her health! But that old woman there is a good old woman, Pew.
Pew. So she is, Commander. But there’s no woman understands a seaman; now you and me, being both bred to it, we splice by natur’. As for A. G., if argyment can win her, why, she’s yours. If I’d a-had your ’ed for argyment, damme, I’d a-been a Admiral, I would! And if argyment won’t win her, well, see here, you put your trust in David Pew.
Kit. David Pew, I don’t know who you are, David Pew; I never heard of you; I don’t seem able to clearly see you. Mrs. Drake, she’s a smart old woman, Pew, and she says you’ve the devil in your face.
Pew. Ah, and why, says you? Because I up and put her in her place, when she forgot herself to you, Commander.
Kit. Well, Pew, that’s so; you stood by me like a man. Shake hands, Pew; and we’ll make a night of it, or we’ll know why, old boy!