We sail the ocean blue, And our saucy ship’s a beauty; We’re sober men, and true, And attentive to our duty. When the balls whistle free o’er the bright blue sea, We stand to our guns all day; When at anchor we ride on the Portsmouth tide, We have plenty of time to play. _Enter LITTLE BUTTERCUP, with large basket on her arm._ RECITATIVE. Hail, men-o’-war’s men--safeguards of your nation, Here is an end, at last, of all privation; You’ve got your pay--spare all you can afford To welcome Little Buttercup on board. ARIA. For I’m called Little Buttercup, dear Little Buttercup, Though I could never tell why, But still I’m called Buttercup, poor Little Buttercup, Sweet Little Buttercup, I. I’ve snuff, and tobaccy, and excellent jacky; I’ve scissors, and watches, and knives; I’ve ribbons and laces to set off the faces Of pretty young sweethearts and wives. I’ve treacle and toffee and excellent coffee, Soft tommy and succulent chops; I’ve chickens and conies and pretty polonies, And excellent peppermint drops. Then buy of your Buttercup--dear Little Buttercup, Sailors should never be shy; So buy of your Buttercup--poor Little Buttercup, Come, of your Buttercup buy! _Boat._ Ay, Little Buttercup--and well called--for you’re the rosiest, the roundest, and the reddest beauty in all Spithead. _But._ Red, am I? and round--and rosy! Maybe, for I have dissembled well! But hark ye, my merry friend--hast ever thought that beneath a gay and frivolous exterior there may lurk a cankerworm which is slowly but surely eating its way into one’s very heart? _Boat._ No, my lass, I can’t say I’ve ever thought that. _Enter DICK DEADEYE. He pushes through _Sailors_._ _Dick._ _I_ have thought it often. (_All recoil from him._) _But._ Yes, you look like it! What’s the matter with the man? Isn’t he well? _Boat._ Don’t take no heed of _him_; that’s only poor Dick Deadeye. _Dick._ I say--it’s a beast of a name, ain’t it--Dick Deadeye? _But._ It’s not a nice name. _Dick._ I’m ugly too, ain’t I? _But._ You are certainly plain. _Dick._ And I’m three-cornered too, ain’t I? _But._ You are rather triangular. _Dick._ Ha! ha! That’s it. I’m ugly, and they hate me for it; for you all hate me, don’t you? _Boat._ (_crossing_). Well, Dick, we wouldn’t go for to hurt any fellow-creature’s feelings, but you can’t expect a chap with such a name as Dick Deadeye to be a popular character--now, can you? _Dick._ No. _Boat._ It’s asking too much, ain’t it? _Dick._ It is. From such a face and form as mine the noblest sentiments sound like the black utterances of a depraved imagination. It is human nature--I am resigned. RECITATIVE.