hearing them all merry,
had given an order for it at the bar.

~65~~ Upon re-entering the room, Bob Martlet, with one eye bound up and
his hat in his hand, was bawling with lungs of leather,

Lovely nymph! assuage my anguish,
At thy feet a tender swain,
Prays you will not let him languish,
One kind look would ease his pain.
Did you know the lad who courts you,
He not long need sue in vain--
Prince of song and dance--you
Scarce will meet his like again!

As this was a song to be sung in character, Bob Martlet determined to
profit by the instructions of Shakspeare, "to suit the action to the
word, and the word to the action," and consequently at the word "dance,"
he introduced some steps to the great entertainment of the company;
but unfortunately jigging to another tune, in which all the broad brims
joined, he forgot the connexion of the words, and was compelled to sing
it over again, and to give his hornpipe by way of conclusion, which was
accompanied by the barking of a dog.

Tallyho laughed heartily at this; the grotesque appearance of the
"tender swain," and the dance in wooden shoes, were admirable, and
highly relished by his companions. The room resounded with applauses,
and it was some moments before silence could be obtained, when, lo and
behold, the landlord entered the room as a peace-breaker with two bowls
of punch.

Consternation and surprise were visible in every countenance. The
confusion of tongues could scarcely equal the enquiries made in a
moment; but the landlord, having his cue, made no reply. But there
it is, will you drink it? It is all your own--and, to set you a good
example, here goes--Success to trade!--and took a hearty swig from the
bowl he placed before the President; then, taking the other bowl to the
lower end of the room, he evaporated, but soon returned with
glasses. Where he came from or how it was obtained, was banished from
consideration, and to make more, the remnant of a pot of heavy wet was
thrown into the bowl to mellow it, as the President observed, because
vy he liked things mellow. The punch was handed about, the song and the
toast passed merrily in succession till near twelve, when an unlucky
disturber of harmony, with a candle set fire to the whisker of Phill
the flue faker so called from his ~66~~having in his younger days been
a chimney-sweeper. Phill, who had slept during the noise of