THE PORTUGUESE GAITERING AND 
EVISCERATION OF MERCHANT WAREHAM
Act III  Scene 7

ED:	Hang him instantly !

STEVE:	Pluck out his eyes !

MACK:	The Portuguese Gaiter !

ED:	The Gaiter !

MACK:	Yes !

STEVE:	The Buskin !

MACK:	Then ... evisceration !

ED:	Eviscerate him !

STEVE:	Guts for garlands !

MACK:	Yes !

ED:	Pike pole him !

STEVE:	Like a yellow yam - yock !

MACK:	Yes !

ED:	Bring him forward !

STEVE:	Give him last words !

MACK:	Yes !

WAREHAM:	Ye foolish ommadhauns, ye ownshooks, ye.
	Ye grum grout butt-ends, ye truckly muck, ye.
	Amongst ye who can rouse enow for all
	So as to batten walls 'gainst red devils.
	To build and fan winter's flames 'gainst the cold ?
	Which dunchy sadogue rallies from his dwall
	With fish to sell to whom ?  From whom to get
	Yer salt when saggers flood yer house and flakes ?
	Some cockabaloo, some bostoon, I allow.
	Who then had nought and now have nought without me.
	I curse your collop and your collar boats.

STEVE:	Finished, are ye ?

WAREHAM:	(OUT OF CHARACTER)  Well, I have a list of people I'd like to 
	thank.

THERE'S A PAUSE.  THEN ...

ED:	To the church !

STEVE:	Claim the gaiter !

MACK:	To the convent !

ED:	Fit the buskin !

WAREHAM:	AWFUL SCREAMS

SFX:	WAREHAM'S INNARDS COMING OUT

ED:	Bear him from hence.  Our present business is general joy.

STEVE:	Now mates of my soul, 'tis our golden age in this realm, the toime 
	of toimes in this gaitered state !