plays [57]
it - ah, my
Christian friend, you'll live to eat them words up. But there's
no malice here: that ain't Pew's way; here's a sailor's hand
upon it . . . . You don't say nothing? (GAUNT TURNS A PAGE.)
Ah, reading, was you? Reading, by thunder! Well, here's my
respecks (SINGING) -
'Time for us to go, Time for us to go, When the money's out, and
the liquor's done, Why, it's time for us to go.
(HE GOES TAPPING UP TO DOOR, TURNS ON THE THRESHOLD, AND LISTENS.
GAUNT TURNS A PAGE. PEW, WITH A GRIMACE, STRIKES HIS HAND UPON
THE POCKET WITH THE KEYS, AND GOES.)
DROP.
ACT II.
The Stage represents the parlour of the 'Admiral Benbow' inn.
Fire-place, R., with high-backed settles on each side; in front
of these, and facing the audience, R., a small table laid with a
cloth. Tables, L., with glasses, pipes, etc. Broadside ballads
on the wall. Outer door of inn, with the half-door in L., corner
back; door, R., beyond the fire-place; window with red half-
curtains; spittons; candles on both the front tables; night
without.
SCENE I
PEW; afterwards MRS. DRAKE, out and in.
PEW (ENTERING). Kind Christian friends - (LISTENING; THEN
DROPPING THE WHINE.) Hey? nobody! Hey? A grog-shop not two
cable-lengths from the Admiral's back-door, and the Admiral not
there? I never knew a seaman brought so low: he ain't but the
bones of the man he used to be. Bear away for the New Jerusalem,
and this is what you run aground on, is it? Good again; but it
ain't Pew's way; Pew's way is rum. - Sanded floor. Rum is his
word, and rum his motion. - Settle - chimbley - settle again -
spittoon - table rigged for supper. Table-glass. (DRINKS
HEELTAP.) Brandy and water; and not enough of it to wet your eye;
damn all greediness, I say. Pot (DRINKS), small beer - a drink
that I ab'or like bilge! What I want is rum. (CALLING, AND
RAPPING WITH STICK ON TABLE.) Halloa, there! House, ahoy!
MRS. DRAKE (WITHOUT). Coming, sir, coming. (SHE ENTERS, R.)
What can I do - ? (SEEING PEW.) Well I never did! Now,
beggar-man, what's for you?
[PEW. Rum, ma'am, rum; and a bit o' supper.
MRS. DRAKE. And a bed to follow, I shouldn't wonder!
PEW. AND a bed to follow: IF you please.]
MRS. DRAKE. This is the 'ADMIRAL BENBOW,' a respectable house,
and receives none but decent company; and I'll ask you to go
somewhere else, for I don't like the looks of you.
PEW. Turn me away? Why, Lord love you, I'm David Pew - old
David Pew - him as was Benbow's own particular cox'n. You
wouldn't turn away old Pew from the sign of his late commander's
'ed? Ah, my British female, you'd have used me different if
you'd seen me in the fight! [There laid old Benbow, both his
legs shot off, in a basket, and the blessed spy-glass at his eye
to that same hour: a picter, ma'am, of naval daring: when a
round shot come, and took and knocked a bucketful of shivers
right into my poor daylights. 'Damme,' says the Admiral, 'is
that old Pew, MY old Pew?' he says. - 'It's old Pew, sir,' says
the first lootenant, 'worse luck,' he says. - 'Then damme,' says
Admiral Benbow, 'if that's how they serve a lion-'arted seaman,
damme if I care to live,' he says; and, ma'am, he laid down his
spy-glass.]
MRS. DRAKE. Blind man, I don't fancy you, and that's the truth;
and I'll thank you to take yourself off.
PEW. Thirty years have I fought for country and king, and now in
my blind old age I'm to be sent packing from a measly
public-'ouse? Mark ye, ma'am, if I go, you take the
consequences. Is this a inn? Or haint it? If it is a inn, then
by act of parleyment, I'm free to sling my 'ammick. Don't you
forget: this is a act of parleyment job, this is. You look out.
MRS. DRAKE. Why, what's to do with the man and his acts of
parliament? I don't want to fly in the face of an act of
parliament, not I. If what you say is true -
PEW. True? If there's anything truer than a act of parleyment -
Ah! you ask the beak. True? I've that in my 'art as makes me
wish it wasn't.
MRS.
Christian friend, you'll live to eat them words up. But there's
no malice here: that ain't Pew's way; here's a sailor's hand
upon it . . . . You don't say nothing? (GAUNT TURNS A PAGE.)
Ah, reading, was you? Reading, by thunder! Well, here's my
respecks (SINGING) -
'Time for us to go, Time for us to go, When the money's out, and
the liquor's done, Why, it's time for us to go.
(HE GOES TAPPING UP TO DOOR, TURNS ON THE THRESHOLD, AND LISTENS.
GAUNT TURNS A PAGE. PEW, WITH A GRIMACE, STRIKES HIS HAND UPON
THE POCKET WITH THE KEYS, AND GOES.)
DROP.
ACT II.
The Stage represents the parlour of the 'Admiral Benbow' inn.
Fire-place, R., with high-backed settles on each side; in front
of these, and facing the audience, R., a small table laid with a
cloth. Tables, L., with glasses, pipes, etc. Broadside ballads
on the wall. Outer door of inn, with the half-door in L., corner
back; door, R., beyond the fire-place; window with red half-
curtains; spittons; candles on both the front tables; night
without.
SCENE I
PEW; afterwards MRS. DRAKE, out and in.
PEW (ENTERING). Kind Christian friends - (LISTENING; THEN
DROPPING THE WHINE.) Hey? nobody! Hey? A grog-shop not two
cable-lengths from the Admiral's back-door, and the Admiral not
there? I never knew a seaman brought so low: he ain't but the
bones of the man he used to be. Bear away for the New Jerusalem,
and this is what you run aground on, is it? Good again; but it
ain't Pew's way; Pew's way is rum. - Sanded floor. Rum is his
word, and rum his motion. - Settle - chimbley - settle again -
spittoon - table rigged for supper. Table-glass. (DRINKS
HEELTAP.) Brandy and water; and not enough of it to wet your eye;
damn all greediness, I say. Pot (DRINKS), small beer - a drink
that I ab'or like bilge! What I want is rum. (CALLING, AND
RAPPING WITH STICK ON TABLE.) Halloa, there! House, ahoy!
MRS. DRAKE (WITHOUT). Coming, sir, coming. (SHE ENTERS, R.)
What can I do - ? (SEEING PEW.) Well I never did! Now,
beggar-man, what's for you?
[PEW. Rum, ma'am, rum; and a bit o' supper.
MRS. DRAKE. And a bed to follow, I shouldn't wonder!
PEW. AND a bed to follow: IF you please.]
MRS. DRAKE. This is the 'ADMIRAL BENBOW,' a respectable house,
and receives none but decent company; and I'll ask you to go
somewhere else, for I don't like the looks of you.
PEW. Turn me away? Why, Lord love you, I'm David Pew - old
David Pew - him as was Benbow's own particular cox'n. You
wouldn't turn away old Pew from the sign of his late commander's
'ed? Ah, my British female, you'd have used me different if
you'd seen me in the fight! [There laid old Benbow, both his
legs shot off, in a basket, and the blessed spy-glass at his eye
to that same hour: a picter, ma'am, of naval daring: when a
round shot come, and took and knocked a bucketful of shivers
right into my poor daylights. 'Damme,' says the Admiral, 'is
that old Pew, MY old Pew?' he says. - 'It's old Pew, sir,' says
the first lootenant, 'worse luck,' he says. - 'Then damme,' says
Admiral Benbow, 'if that's how they serve a lion-'arted seaman,
damme if I care to live,' he says; and, ma'am, he laid down his
spy-glass.]
MRS. DRAKE. Blind man, I don't fancy you, and that's the truth;
and I'll thank you to take yourself off.
PEW. Thirty years have I fought for country and king, and now in
my blind old age I'm to be sent packing from a measly
public-'ouse? Mark ye, ma'am, if I go, you take the
consequences. Is this a inn? Or haint it? If it is a inn, then
by act of parleyment, I'm free to sling my 'ammick. Don't you
forget: this is a act of parleyment job, this is. You look out.
MRS. DRAKE. Why, what's to do with the man and his acts of
parliament? I don't want to fly in the face of an act of
parliament, not I. If what you say is true -
PEW. True? If there's anything truer than a act of parleyment -
Ah! you ask the beak. True? I've that in my 'art as makes me
wish it wasn't.
MRS.