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(Enter little Buttercup, with large basket on her arm.) Buttercup. (recit.) Hail, men-o'-war's men — safeguards of your nation Here is an end, at last, of all privation; You've got your pay — spare all you can afford To welcome Little Buttercup on board. ARIA I'm called Little Buttercup — dear Little Buttercup, Though I could never tell why, But still I'm called Buttercup — poor little Buttercup, Sweet Little Buttercup I! I've snuff and tobaccy, and excellent jacky, I've scissors, and watches, and knives; I've ribbons and laces to set off the faces Of pretty young sweethearts and wives. I've treacle and toffee, I've tea and I've coffee, Soft tommy and succulent chops; I've chickens and conies, and pretty polonies, And excellent peppermint drops. Then buy of your Buttercup — dear Little Buttercup; Sailors should never be shy; So, buy of your Buttercup — poor Little Buttercup; Come, of your Buttercup buy! DIALOGUE Boatswain. Aye, Little Buttercup — and well called — for you're the rosiest, the roundest, and the reddest beauty in all Spithead. Buttercup. Red, am I? and round — and rosy! Maybe, for I have dissembled well! But hark ye, my merry friend — hast ever thought that beneath a gay and frivolous exterior there may lurk a canker-worm which is slowly but surely eating its way into one's very heart? Boatswain. No, my lass, I can't say I've ever thought that. (Enter Dick Deadeye. He pushes through sailors, and comes down.) Dick. I have thought it often. (All recoil from him.) Buttercup. Yes, you look like it! What's the matter with the man? Isn't he well? Boatswain. Don't take no heed of him; that's only poor Dick Deadeye. Dick. I say — it's a beast of a name, ain't it — Dick Deadeye? Buttercup. It's not a nice name. Dick. I'm ugly too, ain't I? Buttercup. You are certainly plain. Dick. And I'm three-cornered too, ain't I? Buttercup. You are rather triangular. Dick. Ha! ha! That's it. I'm ugly, and they hate me for it; for you all hate me, don't you? All. We do! Dick. There! Boatswain. Well, Dick, we wouldn't go for to hurt any fellow-creature's feelings, but you can't expect a chap with such a name as Dick Deadeye to be a popular character — now can you? Dick. No. Boatswain. It's asking too much, ain't it? Dick. It is. From such a face and form as mine the noblest sentiments sound like the black utterances of a depraved imagination. It is human nature — I am resigned. Buttercup. (recit.) But, tell me — who's the youth whose faltering feet With difficulty bear him on his course? Boatswain. (recit.) That is the smartest lad in all the fleet — Ralph Rackstraw! Buttercup. (recit.) Ralph! That name! Remorse! remorse! |