human
Thanky, my boys, thanky; now rouse up the old gentleman. I suspect we knocked the wind out of him. Hollo, there, are you hard and fast?
gpt
The bricks are hard, and verily my senses are fast departing,
human
Senses going, do you say, master? cried old Tom.
gpt
Don't throw them overboard till we have made a finish. One more pannikin apiece, one more song, and then to bed. Tom, where's the bottle?
human
Drink no more, sir, I beg; you'll be ill to-morrow,