Not enough to stow Queen Mab in—

Who the deuce can harbour there?"

"Who, sir? plenty—

Nobles twenty

Did at once my vessel fill."—

"Did they? Jesus,

How you squeeze us!

Would to God they did so still!

Then I'd 'scape the heat and racket

Of the good ship, Lisbon Packet."

[6]

[6]

4.

Fletcher! Murray! Bob![5] where are you?

Stretched along the deck like logs—

Bear a hand, you jolly tar, you!

Here's a rope's end for the dogs.

Hobhouse muttering fearful curses,

As the hatchway down he rolls,

Now his breakfast, now his verses,

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