plays [64]
run of it. O, ah! But CAN you? That's the
point. Can you; don't you see?
PEW. Can I? You leave that to me; I'll bring you to your
moorings; I'm the man that can, and I'm him that will. But only,
look here, let's understand each other. You're a bold blade,
ain't you? You won't stick at a trifle for a lovely female?
You'll back me up? You're a man, ain't you? a man, and you'll
see me through and through it, hey? Come; is that so? Are you
fair and square and stick at nothing?
KIT. Me, Pew? I'll go through fire and water.
PEW. I'll risk it. - Well, then, see here, my son: another
swallow and we jog.
KIT. No, not to-night, Pew, not to-night!
PEW. Commander, in a manner of speaking, wherefore?
KIT. Wherefore, Pew? 'Cause why, Pew? 'Cause I'm drunk, and be
damned to you!
PEW. Commander, I ax your pardon; but, saving your presence,
that's a lie. What? drunk? a man with a 'ed for argyment like
that? just you get up, and steady yourself on your two pins, and
you'll be as right as ninepence.
[KIT. Pew, before we budge, let me shake your flipper again.
You're heart of oak, Pew, sure enough; and if you can bring the
Adam - Admirable about, why, damme, I'll make your fortune! How
you're going to do it, I don't know; but I'll stand by; and I
know you'll do it if anybody can. But I'm drunk, Pew; you can't
deny that: I'm as drunk as a Plymouth fiddler, Pew; and how
you're going to do it is a mystery to me.
PEW. Ah, you leave that to me. All I want is what I've got:
your promise to stand by and bear a hand (PRODUCING A DARK
LANTERN).] Now, here, you see, is my little glim; it ain't for
me, because I'm blind, worse luck! and the day and night is the
blessed same to David Pew. But you watch. You put the candle
near me. Here's what there ain't mony blind men could do, take
the pick o' them! (LIGHTING A SCREW OF PAPER, AND WITH THAT, THE
LANTERN). Hey? That's it. Hey? Go and pity the poor blind!
KIT (WHILE PEW BLOWS OUT THE CANDLES). But I say, Pew, what do
you want with it?
PEW. To see by, my son. (HE SHUTS THE LANTERN AND PUTS IT IN
HIS POCKET. STAGE QUITE DARK. MOONLIGHT AT WINDOW.) All
ship-shape? No sparks about? No? Come, then, lean on me and
heave ahead for the lovely female. (SINGING SOTTO VOCE) -
'Time for us to go, Time for us to go, And when we'd clapped the
hatches on, 'Twas time for us to go.'
DROP
ACT III.
The Stage represents the Admiral's house, as in Act I. GAUNT
seated, is reading aloud; ARETHUSA sits at his feet. Candles
SCENE I
ARETHUSA, GAUNT
[GAUNT (READING). 'And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee,
or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest,
I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people
shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I
die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more
also, if aught but death part thee and me.' (HE CLOSES THE
BOOK.) Amen.
ARETHUSA. Amen. Father, there spoke my heart.]
GAUNT. Arethusa, the Lord in his mercy has seen right to vex us
with trials of many kinds. It is a little matter to endure the
pangs of the flesh: the smart of wounds, the passion of hunger
and thirst, the heaviness of disease; and in this world I have
learned to take thought for nothing save the quiet of your soul.
It is through our affections that we are smitten with the true
pain, even the pain that kills.
ARETHUSA. And yet this pain is our natural lot. Father, I fear
to boast, but I know that I can bear it. Let my life, then, flow
like common lives, each pain rewarded with some pleasure, each
pleasure linked with some pain: nothing pure whether for good or
evil: and my husband, like myself and all the rest of us, only a
poor, kind-hearted sinner, striving for the better part. What
more could any woman ask?
GAUNT. Child, child, your words are like a sword. What would
she ask? Look upon me whom, in the earthly sense, you are
commanded to respect. Look upon
point. Can you; don't you see?
PEW. Can I? You leave that to me; I'll bring you to your
moorings; I'm the man that can, and I'm him that will. But only,
look here, let's understand each other. You're a bold blade,
ain't you? You won't stick at a trifle for a lovely female?
You'll back me up? You're a man, ain't you? a man, and you'll
see me through and through it, hey? Come; is that so? Are you
fair and square and stick at nothing?
KIT. Me, Pew? I'll go through fire and water.
PEW. I'll risk it. - Well, then, see here, my son: another
swallow and we jog.
KIT. No, not to-night, Pew, not to-night!
PEW. Commander, in a manner of speaking, wherefore?
KIT. Wherefore, Pew? 'Cause why, Pew? 'Cause I'm drunk, and be
damned to you!
PEW. Commander, I ax your pardon; but, saving your presence,
that's a lie. What? drunk? a man with a 'ed for argyment like
that? just you get up, and steady yourself on your two pins, and
you'll be as right as ninepence.
[KIT. Pew, before we budge, let me shake your flipper again.
You're heart of oak, Pew, sure enough; and if you can bring the
Adam - Admirable about, why, damme, I'll make your fortune! How
you're going to do it, I don't know; but I'll stand by; and I
know you'll do it if anybody can. But I'm drunk, Pew; you can't
deny that: I'm as drunk as a Plymouth fiddler, Pew; and how
you're going to do it is a mystery to me.
PEW. Ah, you leave that to me. All I want is what I've got:
your promise to stand by and bear a hand (PRODUCING A DARK
LANTERN).] Now, here, you see, is my little glim; it ain't for
me, because I'm blind, worse luck! and the day and night is the
blessed same to David Pew. But you watch. You put the candle
near me. Here's what there ain't mony blind men could do, take
the pick o' them! (LIGHTING A SCREW OF PAPER, AND WITH THAT, THE
LANTERN). Hey? That's it. Hey? Go and pity the poor blind!
KIT (WHILE PEW BLOWS OUT THE CANDLES). But I say, Pew, what do
you want with it?
PEW. To see by, my son. (HE SHUTS THE LANTERN AND PUTS IT IN
HIS POCKET. STAGE QUITE DARK. MOONLIGHT AT WINDOW.) All
ship-shape? No sparks about? No? Come, then, lean on me and
heave ahead for the lovely female. (SINGING SOTTO VOCE) -
'Time for us to go, Time for us to go, And when we'd clapped the
hatches on, 'Twas time for us to go.'
DROP
ACT III.
The Stage represents the Admiral's house, as in Act I. GAUNT
seated, is reading aloud; ARETHUSA sits at his feet. Candles
SCENE I
ARETHUSA, GAUNT
[GAUNT (READING). 'And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee,
or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest,
I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people
shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I
die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more
also, if aught but death part thee and me.' (HE CLOSES THE
BOOK.) Amen.
ARETHUSA. Amen. Father, there spoke my heart.]
GAUNT. Arethusa, the Lord in his mercy has seen right to vex us
with trials of many kinds. It is a little matter to endure the
pangs of the flesh: the smart of wounds, the passion of hunger
and thirst, the heaviness of disease; and in this world I have
learned to take thought for nothing save the quiet of your soul.
It is through our affections that we are smitten with the true
pain, even the pain that kills.
ARETHUSA. And yet this pain is our natural lot. Father, I fear
to boast, but I know that I can bear it. Let my life, then, flow
like common lives, each pain rewarded with some pleasure, each
pleasure linked with some pain: nothing pure whether for good or
evil: and my husband, like myself and all the rest of us, only a
poor, kind-hearted sinner, striving for the better part. What
more could any woman ask?
GAUNT. Child, child, your words are like a sword. What would
she ask? Look upon me whom, in the earthly sense, you are
commanded to respect. Look upon