he ter me--

DARLIN': Has yer a wife? A wife as might turn up, I mean.

DUKE: Say it agin, Darlin'.

DARLIN': Most sailors has wives o' course, strewed here and there from
Bristol to Guinea--jest ter make all ports cozy. So 's yer goin' home
ter a 'appy family, no matter where yer steers.

DUKE: It 's comfertable, Darlin'--I 'll not deny it--when yer heads
ter harbor to see a winkin' candle in a winder on a hill, and know
that a faithful wife and a couple o' leetle pirates is waitin' ter hug
yer.

DARLIN': I says so, Duke. I 've been a wife meself on and off, with
husbands sailin' in and out--kissin' yer and 'oistin' sail.
Roundabout, I says, makes 'appy marriages. Has yer a wife,
Duke--livin', as yer can remember?

DUKE: Yer a bold, for'ard creature. Are yer proposin' ter me?

(_Something like a wink shows in the blush._)

DARLIN': I blush fer yer bad manners, Duke. I 'm a lady and I waits
patient fer the 'appy question. I lets me beauty do the pleadin'. I
was a flamin' roarer in me time. Lovers was nothin'. Dozens! There was
a sea-captain once--(_She smiles dreamily, then seems to cut her
throat with her little finger._) Positive! Jest 'cause we tiffed. And
a stage-coach driver! I had ter cool his passion with a rollin' pin.
He brooded hisself inter drink. 'Appy days! (_She is lost for a moment
in her glorious past, then blows her nose upon her apron and returns
to us._) Duke--askin' yer pardon--I was noticin' lately that you was
castin' yer eyes on leetle Betsy.

DUKE: As washes the dishes?

DARLIN': Her.

DUKE: Go 'long!

DARLIN': And I thought yer might be drawn to her.

DUKE: Darlin', I 'm easy riled.

DARLIN': Yer can have her, Duke, on one condition.

DUKE: She 's a pretty leetle girl.

DARLIN': Yer must set me up in a pub in Bristol--with brass
beer-pulls.

DUKE: I 'll not deny I 've given her a thought. Usual, wives is
nuisances--naggin' at yer fer sixpences. But sometimes I does get
lonesome on a wet night when there are nothin' ter do. I need someone
ter hand me down me boots. Betsy 'd make a kinder cozy wife. Could yer
learn her ter make grog?

DARLIN': Aye.

DUKE: I might do worse. And roast pig that crackles?

DARLIN': I could learn her.

DUKE: I might do worser. I 'd marry you, Darlin'--

DARLIN': Dearie!

DUKE: But yer gettin' on. Patch might marry yer. He 's only got one
eye.

DARLIN': (_with scorn_). Patch!

DUKE: I 'll not deny I 've been considerin' leetle Betsy.