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Your cobbler 's drunk one day in three
And that 's not right;
From morn till night.
A king employs
He that would not be
A king like me
He that would not be
(A cry of Coachee, Coachee,' by several voices without.) Rum. What means that direful clatter ?—Ha! approach!
Enter Jem FLOGGEM.
What art thou ?
Flog. Driver of a hackney-coach.
Sire, as I'm alive,
Rum. Equivocating slave ! 'tis that I mean.
Flog. It is, my liege. But how thou cam'st to know it-
Thou 'rt a rum-un-
Flog. I will be candid, sire. I come to serve thee:
Rum. Let truth, not puns, o'er what thou say'st prevail.
Rum. Right loyal Coachee! (Aside.) How shall I requite him?
I'll go the cheapest way to work: I'll knight him.-
Floc. Jem Floggem.
Don't yo to trim me.
Thankless beast !
Rum. Art not a knight?
Your majesty be-spiflicated!
Ha! I'm summon'd straight-
Rum. There fied the spirit of a saucy whip!
(RUMFUSKIN goes off hastily with long strides. RASCALLO,
dagger in hand, enters, and instantly follows him in the
same way, saying) Rasc.
Hang him, there he goes!
Enter CONSCIENZO and GRISKINDA.
I'm no bragger,
(Approaches the throne.) O horror! See where ready-killed he lies! Grisk. (kneels to Conscienzo, and with enthusiasm.) Hail, Con.
scienzo! King of the North Pole !
Enter Rascallo, with a bloody dagger.
GRISK. And shall be, too.
He shan't, that's flat.
GBisk. Here's to decide it, then ; take this ! (Stabs RASCALLO.)
SCRUBINDA rushes on and stabs GRISKINDA.
And there! (Stabs Conscienzo.)
I scarcely care a button For living now, for I'm as dead as mutton.
(They each draw a chuir, and fall into it.) Rasc. (looking at his wound.) My wound is mortal. SCRUB. (doing the same.)
So is mine. Coxs.
Pooh! nonsense ! no such thing :
0, most fatal blunder!
I shouldn't wonder.
Enter RUMFUSKIN, wounded, led on by SENTENTIOSUS, Lord High
We die ! (Aside.) O, curse his we's ! (To him.) Your Kingship will die solus if you please.
Run. Thou know'st when we say “we,' we mean but I.
How, sire ?
Brush our coat.
(A threatening gesture by the King.) Think not, my sovereign, I'm too bold in stating That task were fitter for a lord in waiting.
Rum. We're dying, so thy boldness we excuse,
ÁLL, except Sent. We beg your Majesty's most gracious pardon.
Rum. (To SENT.) Now, ere we die, my lord, return our conscience :
What, I ? Psha ! nonsense !
And tell his Grace we cannot die without it.
Flog. 'Tis well I'm dead, or I should die of laughter.
Flog. 'Tis true you killed me, sire; but that's no rule.
acted: If he can, he may.
Now hear my proposal :
Rum. A noble motion (To Flog.) Hence, unwieldy drone,
(SENTENTIOSUS presents each to the King, till he comes to
CONSCIENZO, who refuses.)
De gustibus non est disputandum.
Cons. Since 'tis thy royal pleasure, sire, I'll live.
Rasc. For what is past my heart is full of sorrow. (Aside.) I'll have another poke at him to-morrow.
Run. Rascallo, take Scrubinda's lily hand-
Cons. Henceforth let mortals, for each other's use meant,
COME, Jack, my hearty, bear a hand! No skulking !-turn up. The ladies and gentlemen look on you as 'a lion,' and would have a peep. Come, and come in all your tarry glory. Shove a fresh quid into your cheek, and give your love-locks another twist. Let's have all genuine, even to the hitched-up trowsers, the professional hat, with its pendent streamers, the long-quartered pumps, and the deep-sea roll, then the grog-glorious grog !-shall be so too. must have a regular blue-water lad—a Portsmouth or Wapping boy ; no long-shorer, no cod-catcher will do. Out on tailor-tars and mas. querade sailors! be-belted, be-daggered, and be-pistolled ; we'll none o' them. Nor do we intend to dilate on the perilous adventures of those who navigate that endless sea, the Paddington canal. Cornbarges and coal-barges, lighters, hoys, oyster-boats, and wherries, we have nothing to do with you or yours; with those amphibious animals, dressed as sailors, complexioned like colliers, that direct the monsters which smoke along our shores, and convey seafaring cockneys to Greenwich and the Nore, we shall not stop to con
We must impress for our purposes a blade who has been round the world, and on all sides of it; one who has been done brown' under the meridian, and afterwards frozen grey at the Pole; who has been tattooed in Otaheite, and spitted for roasting in New Zealand. The lad must have floored Patagonians by dozens; have existed for three months on a rat’s hind-quarter, three leather shoes, and a satin slipper; been the only survivor in nineteen shipwrecks ; and once, when his vessel foundered at sea, made a voyage from the latitude of the Cape to the Azores on a hen-coop, catching dolphins and boobies by the way for his support. He must have seen every sight for which the ocean is remarkable, and, above all, the Flying Dutchman. He must love his ship as his mother, and the sea as his home, regarding the land as a place merely for fresh water and wives. Fear must be unknown to him whenever danger comes in bodily substance; but he may be allowed to dread ghosts, goblins, and mermaids, which latter if he has heard sing and held conversation with, the better. He may shun the old hulk on board which the captain killed the cabin-boy, and the crew killed the captain, without his courage being doubted; he may assert having seen hundreds of spirits dancing on the waves where great battles have been fought, and his veracity be unimpugned. He must fear no man but the land-shark, dread nothing substantial save the 'cat' and the bilboes. We shall expect him to be able to spin a decent yarn ; we do not want him to be learned; we require to know about Nelson and the Nile,' the old Victory, and the fighting Temeraire, as he saw them. It is to be hoped he will be one who has aided often in laying the Frenchman's flag flat on his deck, as well as easing the Don of his dollars when the said Don had them. Such an one, and more especially if he acts like a sailor ashore, gets rid of the earn.