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Ay, so in truth thou dost; I said my prayers Devoutly as the tempest louder wax'd, Nor am ashamed to own it.

Nor needs to be so; seaman as I am, Let me, as oft as fortune beckons me, On summer seas or rough December's waves, Career it boldly with my jolly mates; But let me die at last in mine own cot, With all my kinsfolk round me. My poor wife! She listens to the winds when others sleep, And thinks.—Well, well! we are all safe on shore.

But, saving this, what have we else to cheer us? Men on dry land are hungry and lack food; We cannot live on safety only. See, Here comes a countryman. Ho! friend, I say! (Calling off the stage.) What dost thou say? I cannot hear thy words.

Come hither, if thou hast a Christian heart, Or any charity; come near, I pray thee.

What is your will with me?