MRS. DRAKE. I’m counting it now. There, there it is, and thank you for your custom. (_She goes out_, _R._) PEW (_calling after her_). Don’t thank me, ma’am; thank the act of parleyment! Rum, fourpence; two penny pieces and a Willi’m-and-Mary tizzy makes a shilling; and a spade half-guinea is eleven and six (_re-enter_ MRS. DRAKE _with supper_, _pipe_, _etc._); and a blessed majesty George the First crown-piece makes sixteen and six; and two shilling bits is eighteen and six; and a new half-crown makes—no it don’t! O, no! Old Pew’s too smart a hand to be bammed with a soft half-tusheroon. MRS. DRAKE (_changing piece_). I’m sure I didn’t know it, sailor. PEW (_trying new coin between his teeth_). In course you didn’t, my dear; but I did, and I thought I’d mention it. Is that my supper, hey? Do my nose deceive me? (_Sniffing and feeling_.) Cold duck? sage and onions? a round of double Gloster? and that noggin o’ rum? Why, I declare if I’d stayed and took pot-luck with my old commander, Cap’n John Gaunt, he couldn’t have beat this little spread, as I’ve got by act of parleyment. MRS. DRAKE (_at knitting_). Do you know the captain, sailor? PEW. Know him? I was that man’s bos’un, ma’am. In the Guinea trade, we was known as ‘Pew’s Cap’n,’ and ‘Gaunt’s Bo’sun,’ one for other like. We was like two brothers, ma’am. And a excellent cold duck, to be sure; and the rum lovely. MRS. DRAKE. If you know John Gaunt, you know his daughter Arethusa. PEW. What? Arethusa? Know her, says you? know her? Why, Lord love you, I was her god-father. [‘Pew,’ says Jack Gaunt to me, ‘Pew,’ he says, ‘you’re a man,’ he says; ‘I like a man to be a man,’ says he, ‘and damme,’ he says, ‘I like _you_; and sink me,’ says he, ‘if you don’t promise and vow in the name of that new-born babe,’ he says, ‘why damme, Pew,’ says he, ‘you’re not the man I take you for.’] Yes, ma’am, I named that female; with my own ’ands I did; Arethusa, I named her; that was the name I give her; so now you know if I speak true. And if you’ll be as good as get me another noggin of rum, why, we’ll drink her ’elth with three times three. (_Exit_ MRS. DRAKE: PEW _eating_. MRS. DRAKE _re-entering with rum_.) [MRS. DRAKE. If what you say be true, sailor (and I don’t say it isn’t, mind!), it’s strange that Arethusa and that godly man her father have never so much as spoke your name.