KIT. I say, old boy, come to think of it, why should we? It's been glasses round with me all day. I've got my cargo.
PEW. You? and you just argy'd the 'ed off of Admiral Guinea? O stash that! I stand treat, if it comes to that!
KIT. What! Do I meet with a blind seaman and not stand him? That's not the man I am!
MRS. DRAKE (RE-ENTERING WITH BOTTLE AND GLASSES). There!
PEW. Easy does it, ma'am.
KIT. Mrs. Drake, you had better trot.
MRS. DRAKE. Yes, I'll trot; and I trot with a sick heart, Kit French, to leave you drinking your wits away with that low blind man. For a low man you are - a low blind man - and your clothes they would disgrace a scarecrow. I'll go to my bed, Kit; and O, dear boy, go soon to yours - the old room, you know; it's ready for you - and go soon and sleep it off; f
