eyes?

BETSY: Why don 't you marry Darlin'?

DUKE: Her with one tooth? Yer silly. I boohs at yer. Ol' ladies with
one hoof inside a coffin does n't make good brides. Yer wants someone
kinder gay and spry, as yer can pin flowers to.

BETSY: She loves you, Duke.

DUKE: Course she does. So does the ol' lady as keeps the tap at the
Harbor Light, and one-eyed Pol as mops up the liquor that is spilt.
And youngsters, too. A pretty leetle dear--jest a cozy armful--was
winkin' at me yesterday--kinder givin' me the snuggle-up. I pities
'em. It 's their nater, God 'elp 'em, ter love me; but the ol' Duke is
perticerler. Yer has lovely eyes, Betsy--blessed leetle mirrors where
I sees Cupid playin'. They shines like the lights o' a friendly
harbor.

BETSY: Darlin' cooks roast pig that crackles.

DUKE: I sets me heart on top me stomich. Ain 't yer comfertable,
settin' on me knee? Shall I shift yer to me stump? Betsy, I calls
arter we are married, fetch me down me slipper and lay it on the
hearth ter warm. Yer husband 's home. And I tosses yer me boot, all
mud fer cleanin'. And then yer passes the grog. And arter about the
second cup I limbers up and kisses yer. And then yer sets upon me
knee. It will be snug on winter evenin's when the blast is blowin'.
And when we 're married yer can kiss me pretty near as often as yer
please. And I won 't deny as I won 't like it. The ol' Duke ain 't
slingin' the permission 'round general. Darlin' nags me. What yer
laughin' at?

BETSY: You silly old man!

DUKE: Yer riles me. Once and fer all, will yer marry me? I 'll not
waste the night argyin' with yer. I 'm not goin' ter tease yer. I 've
only one knee and it ain 't no bench fer gigglin' girls as pokes fun
at their betters. I 'll jolt yer till yer teeth rattles. Is it someone
else? Has yer a priory 'tachment? Red Joe? Is it Red Joe, Betsy? Is he
snoopin' 'round?

(_Betsy rises with sobered mood, and walks away._)

DUKE: There 's somethin' about that young feller I does n't like. He
's a snooper. Betsy, does yer get what I 'm talkin' about? I have
offered ter make yer the Duchess. I 'll buy--I 'll steal yer a set o'
red beads. I 'll give yer a sixpence--without no naggin'--every time
yer goes ter town, jest ter spend reckless. I 'll marry yer. I 'll
take yer ter Minehead and get the piousest parson in the town. Would
yer like Darlin' fer a bridesmaid--and grog and angel-cake? Me jest
settin' ready ter kiss yer every time yer passes it