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All here—and there: [Pointing before and behind.] they have it all from us in England.—And then the fine things they carry on their heads, Wowski. Wows. Iss. One lady carry good fish so fine, she call every body to look at her. Trudge. Pshaw an old woman bawling flounders. But the fine girls we meet, here, on the quay—so round and so plump I Wows. You not love me now 2 Trudge. Not love you! Zounds, have I not given you proofs: Wows. Iss. Great many: but now you get here, you forget poor Wowski! Trudge. Not I. I’ll stick to you like wax. Wows. Ah! I fear! What make you love me now 2 Trudge. Gratitude, to be sure. Wows. What that? Trudge. Ha! this it is, now, to live without education. The poor dull devils of her country are all in the practice of gratitude, without finding out what it means; while we can tell the meaning of it, with little or no practice at all.—Lord, Lord, what a fine advantage Christian learning is . Harkee, Wows Wows. Iss. Trudge. Now we’ve accomplish'd our landing, I’ll accomplish you. You remember the instructions I gave you on the voyage 2 Wows. Iss. Trudge. Let's see now—What are you to do, when I introduce you to the nobility, gentry, and others— of my acquaintance 2 A/ows. Make believe sit down; then get up. Trudge. Let me see you do it. [She makes a low courtesy.] Very well ! and how are you to recommend yourself, when you have nothing to say, amongst all our great friends? Wows, Grin—shew my teeth.
Trudge. Right! they’ll think you've lived with people of fashion. But suppose you meet an old shabby friend in misfortune, that you don't wish to be seen speak to—what would you do? Wows. Look blind—not see him. . Trudge. Why would you do that? Wows. 'Cause I can’t see good friend in distreSS. 'rudge. That's a good girl! and I wish everybody ..could boast of so kind a motive for such cursed cruel behaviour.—Lord! how some of your flashy bankers’ clerkshave cutmein Threadneedle-street.—Butcome, though we have got among fine folks, here, in an English settlement, I won't be ashamed of my old acquaintance; yet, for my own part, I should not be sorry, now, to see my old friend with a new face.— Odsbobs . I see Mr Inkle— o in, Wows; call for what you like best. Wows. Then I call for you—ah ! I fear I not see you often now. But you come soon—
Itemember when we walk’d alone,
But now you come across the sea,
You'll walk alone, and leave poor me,
But ah I think well on our old cell, Where tremblingly, You kiss'd poor me— Perhaps you’ll say—dear Wowski, tell, How can I live without ye? - [Exit Wowskr. Trudge. Who have we here?
Enter FIRST PLANTER.
Plant. Hark'ee, young man! Is that young Indian of yours going to our market? - Trudge. Not she—she never went to market in all her life. Plant. I mean, is she for our sale of slaves? Our black fair : Trudge. A black fair, ha! has ha! You hold it on a brown green, I suppose. Plant. She's your slave, I take it 2 Trudge. Yes; and I’m her humble servant, I take 1t, Plant. Aye, aye, natural enough at sea.—But at how much do you value her ? Trudge. Just as much as she has saved me—My own life. - * . . . - Plant. Pshaw you mean to sell her 2 - Trudge. [Staring.] Zounds ! what a devil of a fellow ! Sell Wows –my poor, dear, dingy wife * Plant. Come, come, I’ve heard your story from | the ship.–Don’t let's haggle; I'll bid as fair as any trader amongst us. But no tricks upon travellers, young man, to raise your price. Your wife, indeed! Why she’s no Christian! | Trudge. No; but I am; so I shall do as I'd be | done by ; and, if you were a good one yourself, you'd know, that fellow-feeling for a poor body, who wants your help, is the noblest mark of our religion—
I wou’dn’t be articled clerk to such a fellow for the | world. Plant. Hey-day ! the booby's in love with her Why, sure, friend, you would not live here with a black 2 Trudge. Plague on’t ; there it is. I shall be laughed out of my honesty, here.—But you may be jogging, friend: I may feel a little queer, perhaps, at showing her face—but, damn me, if ever Ido anything to make me ashamed of showing my own. Plant. Why, I tell you, her very complexion— Trudge. Rother complexion l—I’ll tell you what, Mr Fair-trader, if your head and heart were to <hange places, I’ve a notion you’d be as black in the face as an ink-bottle. Plant. Pshaw the fellow’s a fool—a rude rascal– he ought to be sent back to the savages again. He’s not fit to live among us Christians. [Exit PLANTER. Trudge. Oh, here comes my master, at last.
Enter INKLE, and a second PLANTER.
TInkle. Nay, sir, I understand your customs well; your Indian markets are not unknown to me. 2d Plant. And, as you seem to understand business, I need not tell you, that dispatch is the soul of it. Her name, you say, is— Inkle. Yarico: but urge this no more, I beg you; I must not listen to it: for, to speak freely, her anxious care of me demands, that here, though here it may seem strange—I should avow my love for her. Plant. Lord help you for a merchant!—It’s the first time I ever heard a trader talk of love; except, indeed, the love of trade, and the love of the Sweet Molly, my ship. - Inkle. Then, sir, you cannot feel my situation. Plant. Oh yes, I can we have a hundred such cases just after a voyage; but they never last long on land. It’s amazing how constant a young man is in a ship ! But, in two words, will you dispose of her, or no 2 Inkle. In two words, then, meet me here at noon, and we'll speak further on this subject: and lest you think I trifle with your business, hear why I wish this pause. Chance threw me, on my passage to your, island, among a savage people. Deserted, defenceless,-cut off from or. life at stake, to this young creature I owe my preservation;–she found me, like a dying bough, torn from its kindred branches; which, as it drooped, she moistened with her tears. Plant. Nay, may, talk like a man of this world. In cle. Your patience.—And yet your interruption goes to my present feelings, for on our sail to this your island—the thoughts of time mispent—doubt— fears—for call it what you will—have much perplexed me; and as your spires arose, reflections still rose with them; for here, sir, lie my interests, great connexions, and other weighty matters—which now I need not mention Plant. But which her presence here will mar. Inkle. Even so—and yet the gratitude I owe her— Plant. Pshaw I So because she preserved your life, your gratitude is to make you give up all you have to live upon Inkle. Why, in that light indeed—This never struck me yet, I’ll think on't. Plant, Ay, ay, do so—Why, what return can the wench wish more than taking her from a wild, idle, savage people, and providing for her, here, with reputable hard work, in a genteel, polished, tender, Christian country : Inkle. Well, sir, at noon— Plant. I’ll meet you—but remember, young gentleman, you must get her off your hands—you must, indeed,—I shall have her a bargain, I see that—your