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Nor suffer wave or wind of Circumstance
To bend the iron stanchion of your will.
Run the black ensign to the masthead up,
And take command, first casting overboard
Conscience, the super cargo querulous!
Madam Pomeroy:
How, Sylvester, cast Conscience overside,
To reign sole captain of a brigand barque?
Beware you ship not a sable Admiral,
The single handed skipper sleeps at whiles,
And as he lies in mortal somnolence,
An Alien Pilot boards him, in the night,
Steering the luckless vessel to his will!
Sylvester:
Conscience must overboard, his specious plea
Of Pity and Mercy poisons, else, our lives!
Pity and Mercy are man's enemies,
And I look forward till, in years to be,
