The nozzle towards my mouth. Come, let me pour thee.
I have thee not; and yet I’ll swear I saw
Thee just as plain as this which now I draw.
(Draws bottle from his pocket.)
Song, “Mercutio.” Air, “Rootle tum, tootle tum ta.”
Mercutio, you have been told,
Was a gay boy of old:
One Shakspeare his story has told
In a humorous sort of a way.
He was fond of a nice little game,—