for thee, Kate: this is no world
To play with mammets, and to tilt with lips;
We must have bloody noses and cracked crowns."

"I've a notion you will, too, my hearty," interrupted one of the
colliers. "That 'ere long tongue of yours will bring you into disgrace.
Bill, give her a jerk towards the wherry, and we'll duck him."

"My friend," said the actor, addressing me:--

"Let not his unwholesome corpse come between the wind
And my nobility.

"Let us exeunt, OP."

Although I could not understand his phrases, I knew very well what he
meant, and pulling smartly, I shoved towards the shore, and ahead.
Perceiving this, the men in the boat, at the intimation of the women,
who stood up waving their bonnets, gave chase to us, and my companion
appeared not a little alarmed. However, by great exertion on my part,
we gained considerably, and they abandoned the pursuit.

"Now, by two-headed Janus," said my companion, as he looked back upon
the colliers--

"Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time,
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
And laugh like parrots at a bagpiper,
And others of such a vinegar aspect
That they'll not show their teeth by way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.

"And now," continued he, addressing me, "what's your name, sir? Of what
condition are you--and of what place, I pray?"

Amused with what had passed, I replied, "That my name was Jacob--that I
was a waterman, and born on the river."

"I find thee apt; but tell me, art thou perfect that our ship hath
touched upon the deserts of Bohemia?"

"Do you land at Westminster, sir?"

"No: at Blackfriars--there attend my coming.

"Base is the slave who pays; nevertheless, what is your fare, my lad?

"What money's in my purse? Seven groats and twopence.

"By Jove, I am not covetous of gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost.

"But--

"I can get no remedy for this consumption of the purse.

"Here my lad--is that enough?"

"Yes, sir, I thank you."

"Remember poor Jack, sir," said the usual attendant at the landing
place, catching his arm as he careened the wherry on getting out.

"If he fall in, good-night--or sink or swim.

"Jack, there is a penny for you. Jacob, farewell--we meet again;" and
away he went, taking three of the stone steps at each spring. This
gentleman's name was, as I afterwards found out, Tinfoil, an actor of
second-rate merit on the London boar