f a wretch like me! Am I not flesh and blood
that you should trample on me like that? Is that charity, to stamp the
hope out of a poor soul?

GAUNT. You speak wildly; or the devil of drink that is in you speaks
instead.

KIT. You think me drunk; well, so I am, and whose fault is it but yours?
It was I that drank; but you take your share of it, Captain Gaunt: you
it was that filled the can.

GAUNT. Christopher French, I spoke but for your good, your good and
hers. "Woe unto him"--these are the dreadful words--"by whom offences
shall come: it were better----" Christopher, I can but pray for both of
us.

KIT. Prayers? Now I tell you freely, Captain Gaunt, I don't value your
prayers. Deeds are what I ask; kind deeds and words--that's the
true-blue piety: to hope the best and do the best, and speak the
kindest. As for you, you insult me to my face; and then you'll pray for
me? What's that? Insult behind my back is what I call it! No, sir;
you're out of the courses; you're no good man to my view, be you who you
may.

MRS. DRAKE. O Christopher! To Captain Gaunt?

ARETHUSA. Father, father, come away!

KIT. Ah, you see? She suffers too; we all suffer. You spoke just now of
a devil; well, I'll tell you the devil you have: the devil of judging
others. And as for me, I'll get as drunk as Bacchus.

GAUNT. Come! (_Exit, with ARETHUSA._)

SCENE V

PEW, MRS. DRAKE, KIT

PEW. (_coming out and waving his pipe_). Commander, shake! Hooray for
old England! If there's anything in the world that goes to old Pew's
'art, it's argyment. Commander, you handled him like a babby, kept the
weather gauge, and hulled him every shot. Commander, give it a name, and
let that name be rum!

KIT. Ay, rum's the sailor's fancy. Mrs. Drake, a bottle and clean
glasses.

MRS. DRAKE. Kit French, I wouldn't. Think better of it, there's a dear!
And that sweet girl just gone!

PEW. Ma'am, I'm not a 'ard man; I'm not the man to up and force a act of
parleyment upon a helpless female. But you see here: Pew's friends is
sacred. Here's my friend here, a perfeck seaman, and a man with a 'ed
upon his shoulders, and a man that, damme, I admire. He give you a
order, ma'am--march!

MRS. DRAKE. Kit, don't you listen to that blind man; he's the devil
wrote upon his face.

PEW. Don't you insinuate against my friend. _He_ ain't a child, I hope?
_he_ knows his business? Don't you get trying to go a-lowering of my
friend in his own esteem.

MRS. DRA