“Surely,” said Uncle Timothy to himself, “this is a masquerade. I am an unbidden guest; but the Enchanter's wand is over me, and I cannot either advance or retire.”
Sir Andrew thrummed his viol-de-gambo; and Sir Toby, having fortified himself with a long draught out of a black jack, with true heartiness of voice and gesture struck up a glee.
THE BOAR'S HEAD.=
Sir Toby. Because some folks are virtuous, Sir John,
shall you and I
Forswear our wassail, cakes and ale, and sit us down
and sigh?
The world is still a merry world, and this a merry time;
And sack is sack, Sir John, Sir Jack! though in it tastes
the lime.