The literature of ancient Greece and Rome was not even referred to; and when Verdant, who, from the unusual combination of the smoke and liquids, was beginning to feel extremely amiable and talkative, - made a reflective observation (addressed to the company generally) which sounded like the words "Nunc vino pellite curas, Cras ingens," [12] - he was immediately interrupted by the voice of Mr. Bouncer, crying out, "Who's that talking shop about engines? Holloa, Gig-lamps!" - Mr. Bouncer, it must be observed, had facetiously adopted the sobriquet which had been bestowed on Verdant and his spectacles on their first appearance outside the Oxford coach, - "Holloa, Gig-lamps, is that you ill-treating the dead languages? I'm ashamed of you! a venerable party like you ought to be above such things. There! don't blush, old feller, but give us a song! It's the punishment for talking shop, you know."
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[12] Horace, car. i od. vii
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There was an immediate hammering of tables and jingling of glasses, accompanied with loud cries of "Mr. Green for a song! Mr. Green! Mr. Gig-lamps' song!" cries which nearly brought our hero to the verge of idiotcy.
Charles Larkyns saw this, and came to the rescue. "Gentlemen," he said, addressing the company, "I know that my friend Verdant can sing, and that, like a good bird, he will sing. But while he is mentally looking over his numerous stock of songs, and selecting one for our amusement, I beg to fill up our valuable time, by asking you to fill up a bumper to the health of our esteemed host Smalls (vociferous cheers) - a man whose private worth is only to be equalled by the purity of his milk-punch and the excellence of his weeds (hear hear). Bumpers, gentlemen, and no heel-taps! and though I am sorry to interfere with Mr. Fosbrooke's private enjoyments, yet I must beg to suggest to him that he has been so much engaged in drowning his personal cares in the bowl over which he is so skilfully presiding, that my glass has been allowed to sparkle on the board empty and useless." And as Charles Larkyns held out his glass towards Mr. Fosbrooke and the punch-bowl, he trolled out, in a rich, manly voice, old Cowley's anacreontic:
| "Fill up the bowl then, fill it high! |
| Fill all the glasses there! For why |
| Should every creature drink but I? |
| Why, man of morals, tell me why?" |
By the time that the "man of morals" had ladled out for the company, and that Mr. Smalls' health had been drunk and responded to amid uproarious applause, Charles Larkyns' friendly diversion in our hero's favour had succeeded, and Mr. Verdant Green had regained his confidence, and had decided upon one of those vocal efforts which, in the bosom of his own family, and to the pianoforte accompaniment of his sisters, was accustomed to meet with great applause. And when he had hastily tossed off another glass of milk-punch (merely to clear his throat), he felt bold enough to answer the spirit-rappings which were again demanding "Mr. Green's song!" It was given much in the following manner:
Mr. Verdant Green (in low plaintive tones, and fresh alarm at hearing the sounds of his own voice). "I dreamt that I dwe-elt in mar-arble halls, with" -
Mr. Bouncer (interrupting). "Spit it out, Gig-lamps! Dis child can't hear whether it's Maudlin Hall you're singing about, or what."
Omnes. "Order! or-der! Shut up, Bouncer!"