ly, Sir Joseph, I hardly know. Josephine is of course
sensible of your condescension.
SIR JOSEPH. She naturally would be.
CAPT. But perhaps your exalted rank dazzles her.
SIR JOSEPH. You think it does?
CAPT. I can hardly say; but she is a modest girl, and her
social
position is far below your own. It may be that she feels she is
not
worthy of you.
SIR JOSEPH. That is really a very sensible suggestion, and
displays
more knowledge of human nature than I had given you credit for.
CAPT. See, she comes. If your lordship would kindly reason with
her and
assure her officially that it is a standing rule at the Admiralty
that
love levels all ranks, her respect for an official utterance
might induce
her to look upon your offer in its proper light.
SIR JOSEPH. It is not unlikely. I will adopt your suggestion.
But soft,
she is here. Let us withdraw, and watch our opportunity.

Enter JOSEPHINE from cabin. FIRST LORD and CAPTAIN retire

SCENE--JOSEPHINE

The hours creep on apace,
My guilty heart is quaking!
Oh, that I might retrace
The step that I am taking!
Its folly it were easy to be showing,
What I am giving up and whither going.
On the one hand, papa's luxurious home,
Hung with ancestral armour and old brasses,
Carved oak and tapestry from distant Rome,
Rare "blue and white" Venetian finger-glasses,
Rich oriental rugs, luxurious sofa pillows,
And everything that isn't old, from Gillow's.
And on the other, a dark and dingy room,
In some back street with stuffy children crying,
Where organs yell, and clacking housewives fume,
And clothes are hanging out all day a-drying.
With one cracked looking-glass to see your face
in,
And dinner served up in a pudding basin!

A simple sailor, lowly born,
Unlettered and unknown,
Who toils for bread from early mom
Till half the night has flown!
No golden rank can he impart--
No wealth of house or land--