Deny no pleasure to my soul,
Let Bacchus’ health round freely move;
For Bacchus is the friend of love—
And he that will this toast deny,
Down among the dead men let him lie.”
And I took up the chorus and bawled it out; for I, too, looked for no more crosses in this life, having Daphne for my wife.
So the time passed until ten o’clock; and at ten o’clock we sallied forth.
It was a starlit night in early December. The cold high blue heavens above us seemed to radiate happiness; the myriad stars twinkled with joy; we scarce felt the ground under our feet.
The two post-chaises awaited us on the highway, the postboys full of confidence; the horses, the best in the town, were eager to be off. We jumped together in one, and were whirled into the town, and were at the door of the playhouse almost before we knew it.
One of our postilions speedily found the coach which had brought Lady Hawkshaw there, and, in pursuance of his instructions, got the coachman off his box to drink in a neighboring tavern, while one of our postboys stood watch over the horses. Giles and I remained in the chaise until it was time for us to make our descent.