The sounds of the instruments floated along the
flowing and smooth water, reaching the ears and attracting the attention
of many who, for a time, rested from their labour, or hung listlessly
over the gunnels of the vessels, watching the boats, and listening to
the harmony. All was mirth and gaiety--the wherries kept close to each
other, and between the airs the parties kept up a lively and witty
conversation, occasionally venting their admiration upon the verdure of
the sloping lawns and feathering trees with which the banks of the noble
river are so beautifully adorned; even Mr Winterbottom had partially
recovered his serenity, when he was again irritated by a remark of
Quince, who addressed him.

"You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man--a
proper man as one shall see on a summer's day; a most lovely,
gentleman-like man; therefore, you must needs play Pyramus."

"Take care I don't play the devil with your physiognomy, Mr Western,"
retorted Winterbottom.

Here Caliban, in the third boat, began playing the fiddle and singing to
it--

"Gaffer, Gaffer's son, and his little jackass,
Were trotting along the road."

The chorus of which ditty was "Ee-aw, Ee-aw!" like the braying of a
jackass.

"Bless thee, Bottom, bless thee; thou art translated," cried Quince,
looking at Winterbottom.

"Very well--very well, Mr Western. I don't want to upset the wherry,
and therefore you're safe at present, but the reckoning will come--so I
give you warning."

"Slaves of my lamp, do my bidding. I will have no quarrelling here.
You, Quince, shut your mouth; you, Winterbottom, draw in your lips, and
I, your queen, will charm you with a song," said Titania, waving her
little hand. The fiddler ceased playing, and the voice of the fair
actress rivetted all our attention.

"Wilt thou waken, bride of May,
While flowers are fresh, and sweet bells chime,
Listen and learn from my roundelay
How all life's pilot boats sailed one day
A match with Time!

"Love sat on a lotus-leaf aloft,
And saw old Time in his loaded boat,
Slowly he crossed Life's narrow tide,
While Love sat clapping his wings, and cried,
`Who will pass Time?'

"Patience came first, but soon was gone,
With helm and sail to help Time on;
Care and Grief could not lend an oar,
And Prudence said (while he staid on shore),
`I wait for Time.'

"Hope filled with flowers her cork-tree bark,
And lighted its