After dinner the Captain recounts, with much glee, All he's heard, seen, and done since he first went to sea, All his perils and scrapes, And his hair-breadth escapes, Talks of boa-constrictors, and lions, and apes, And fierce "Bengal Tigers," like that which, you know, If you've ever seen any respectable "Show," "Carried off the unfortunate Mr. Munro." Then, diverging a while, he adverts to the mystery Which hangs, like a cloud, o'er his own private history-- How he ran off to sea--how they set him afloat, (Not a word, though, of barrel or bung-hole--_See Note_) --How he happen'd to meet With the Algerine fleet, And forced them, by sheer dint of arms to retreat, Thus saving his Violet--(One of his feet Here just touch'd her toe, and she moved on her seat,)-- How his vessel was batter'd-- In short, he so chatter'd, Now lively, now serious, so ogled and flatter'd, That the ladies much marvell'd a person should be able To "make himself," both said, "so very agreeable." Captain Norman's adventures were scarcely half done, When Percy Lord Ashdale, her ladyship's son, In a terrible fume, Bounces into the room, And talks to his guest as you'd talk to your groom, Claps his hand on his rapier, and swears he'll be through him-- The Captain does nothing at all but "pooh! pooh!" Unable to smother His hate of his brother, He rails at his cousin, and blows up his mother.-- "Fie! fie!" says the first--Says the latter, "In sooth, This is sharper by far than a keen serpent's tooth!" (A remark, by the way, which King Lear had made years ago, When he ask'd for his Knights, and his Daughter said, "Here's a go!")-- This made Ashdale ashamed; But he must not be blamed Too much for his warmth, for, like many young fellows, he Was apt to lose temper when tortur'd by jealousy. Still speaking quite gruff, He goes off in a huff; Lady A., who is now what some call "up to snuff," Straight determines to patch Up a clandestine match Between the Sea-Captain she dreads like Old Scratch, And Miss,--whom she does not think any great catch For Ashdale;--besides, he won't kick up such shindies Were she once fairly married and off to the Indies. ACT III. Miss Violet takes from the Countess her tone; She agrees to meet Norman "by moonlight alone," And slip off to his bark, "The night being dark," Though "the moon," the Sea-Captain says, rises in Heaven "One hour before midnight," _i.e._ at eleven. From which speech I infer,-- Though perhaps I may err-- That, though weatherwise, doubtless, 'midst surges and surf, he When "capering on shore" was by no means a Murphy.