_Jul._ Heav'n grant you may be right again.
_Boy._ Score a gallon of Sack, and a pint of Olives to the Unicorn.
_Another Boy._ Look into the Nags-head there.
_2 Boy._ Score a quart of Claret to the Bar, And a pound of Sausages into the Flower-pot.
_1 Serv._ The Devil's in their throats; anon, anon.
_2 Ser._ Mull a pint of Sack there for the women in the Flower-deluce, and put in ginger enough, they belch like potguns, And _Robin_ fetch Tobacco for the Peacock, they will not be Drunk till mid-night else: how now, how does my Master?
_2 Boy._ Faith he lyes drawing on a pace.
_1 Boy._ Then there's no way but one with him.
_2 Boy._ All the rest, Except the Captain, are in _Limbo patrum_, Where they lye sod in sack.
_2 Boy._ Afore the wind still, with his lights up bravely, All he takes in I think he turns to Juleps, Or h'as a world of Stowage in his belly, The rest look all like fire-drakes, and lye scatter'd Like rushes round about the room. My Master Is now the loving'st man, I think, above ground.
_1 Boy._ Would he were always drunk then.
_1 Boy._ And swears I shall be free to morrow, and so weeps And calls upon my Mistris.
_1 Boy._ And swears the Captain must lye this night with her And bad me break it to her with discretion, That he may leave an issue after him, Able to entertain a _Dutch Ambassador_, And tells him feelingly how sweet she is, And how he stole her from her friends i'th' Country; And brought her up disguiz'd with the Carriers, And was nine nights bereaving her her maidenhead, And the tenth got a drawer, here they come.
_Within cry drawer._ Anon, anon, speak to the Tyger, _Peter_.
_Host._ There's my Bells boys, my silver Bell.
_Piso._ Would he were hang'd As high as I could ring him.
_Lod. Robin_, sufficient single Beer, as cold as crystal, Quench _Robin_, quench.
_Host._ Shall we bear up still? Captain how I love thee! Sweet Captain let me kiss thee, by this hand I love thee next to Malmsey in a morning, Of all things transitory.
_Jac._ I love thee too, as far as I can love a fat man.
_Host._ Do'st thou Captain? Sweetly? and heartily?
_Host._ Then welcom death, come close mine eyes sweet Captain Thou shalt have all.
_Host._ Why she shall have besides my blessing, and a silver spoon, Enough to keep her stirring in the world, Three little Children, one of them was mine Upon my conscience, th' other two are Pagans.