The Rev. Dr. Folliott.—No, sir; I am inexorable. No Greek, no theatre.
Mr. Trillo.—Sir, I cannot consent to be shut out from my own theatre.
The Rev. Dr. Folliott.—You see how it is, Squire Crotchet the younger; you can scarcely find two to agree on a scheme, and no two of those can agree on the details. Keep your money in your pocket. And so ends the fund for regenerating the world.
Mr. Mac Quedy.—Nay, by no means. We are all agreed on deliberative dinners.
The Rev. Dr. Folliott.—Very true; we will dine and discuss. We will sing with Robin Hood, “If I drink water while this doth last;” and while it lasts we will have no adjournment, if not to the Athenian theatre.
Mr. Trillo.—Well, gentlemen, I hope this chorus at least will please you:—
If I drink water while this doth last,
May I never again drink wine:
For how can a man, in his life of a span,
Do anything better than dine?
We'll dine and drink, and say if we think
That anything better can be,
And when we have dined, wish all mankind
May dine as well as we.
And though a good wish will fill no dish
And brim no cup with sack,
Yet thoughts will spring as the glasses ring,
To illume our studious track.
On the brilliant dreams of our hopeful schemes
The light of the flask shall shine;
And we’ll sit till day, but we’ll find the way
To drench the world with wine.
The schemes for the world’s regeneration evaporated in a tumult of voices.
CHAPTER VII.
THE SLEEPING VENUS.
Quoth he: In all my life till now,
I ne’er saw so profane a show.—Butler.