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 How should I know? As my confidential adviser, it's your duty to suggest something.

Sir, I loathe the life you are leading, but a good old man's oath is paramount, and I obey. Richard Dauntless is here with pretty Rose Maybud, to ask your consent to their marriage. Poison their beer.

No—not that—I know I'm a bad Bart, but I'm not as bad a Bart as all that.

Well, there you are, you see! It's no use my making suggestions if you don't adopt them.

[Melodramatically.] How would it be, do you think, were I to lure him here with cunning wile—bind him with good stout rope to yonder post—and then, by making hideous faces at him, curdle the heart-blood in his arteries, and freeze the very marrow in his bones? How say you, Adam, is not the scheme well planned?

It would be simply rude—nothing more. But soft—they come!

and retire up as and  enter, preceded by Chorus of Bridesmaids

— and

Happily coupled are we, You see— I am a jolly Jack Tar, My star, &emsp;And you are the fairest, &emsp;The richest and rarest Of innocent lasses you are, By far— Of innocent lasses you are!

Fanned by a favouring gale, You'll sail Over life's treacherous sea With me,