sir?"

"Down," replied he; pointing downwards with his finger, as if pushing at
something.

"Down, down to hell, and say I sent you there."

"Thanky, sir, I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you."

"Our tongue is rough, coz--and my condition is not smooth." We shot the
bridge, and went rapidly down with the tide, when he again commenced:--

"Thus with imagin'd wing our soft scene flies,
In motion of no less celerity
Than that of thought."

Then his attention was drawn by a collier's boat, pulled by two men as
black as chimney-sweeps, with three women in the stern-sheets. They
made for the centre of the river, to get into the strength of the tide,
and were soon abreast and close to the wherry, pulling with us down the
stream.

"There's a dandy young man," said one of the women, with an old straw
bonnet and very dirty ribbons, laughing, and pointing to my man.

"Plead you to me, fair dame? I know you not;
At Ephesus I am but two hours old,
As strange unto your town as to your talk."

"Well, he be a reg'lar rum cove, I've a notion," said another of the
women, when she witnessed the theatrical airs of the speaker, who
immediately recommenced--

"The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne,
Burn'd on the water--the poop was beaten gold,
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tunes of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water, which they beat, to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
It beggar'd all description."

"Come, I'll be blowed but we've had enough of that, so just shut your
pan," said one of the women, angrily.

"Her gentlewomen, like the Naiades,
So many mermaids tend her."

"Mind what you're arter, or your mouth will tend to your mischief, young
fellow."

"From the barge
A strange, invisible perfume hits the sense
Of the adjacent wharfs."

"Jem, just run him alongside, and break his head with your oar."

"I thinks as how I will, if he don't mend his manners."

"I saw her once
Hop forty paces through the public streets."

"You lie, you liver-faced rascal. I never walked the streets in my
life. I'm a lawful married woman. Jem, do you call yourself a man, and
stand this here?"

"Well, now, Sal, but he's a nice young man. Now an't he?" observed one
of the other women.

"Away,
Away, you trifler. Love! I know thee not,
I care not