Captain. Incomprehensible as her utterances are, I nevertheless feel that they are dictated by a sincere regard for me. But to what new misery is she referring? Time alone can tell!

Enter Sir Joseph.

Sir Joseph. Captain Corcoran, I am much disappointed with your daughter. In fact, I don't think she will do.

Captain. She won't do, Sir Joseph!

Sir Joseph. I'm afraid not. The fact is, that although I have urged my suit with as much eloquence as is consistent with an official utterance, I have done so hitherto without success. How do you account for this?

Captain. Really, Sir Joseph, I hardly know. Josephine is of course sensible of your condescension.

Sir Joseph. She naturally would be.

Captain. But perhaps your exalted rank dazzles her.

Sir Joseph. You think it does?

Captain. 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.

Captain. 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

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