Vulcan. Oh, come,
We have no Wilfrid Lawson in Sicily yet;
All my Cyclops would strike. Yes! I'm game for a "wet."
Neptune. That's hearty. Now, then, you young Triton, look slippy,
Fetch up t'other bottle. I feel rather nippy.
And then the occasion! Britannia's my dear,
We must drink to her health in this Jubilee Year.
Vulcan. I'm glad you say "We."
Neptune. Well, I own you are "in it."
I wouldn't dispute your fair claims for a minute,