The faithful swain having finished, gave a long sigh, and said:
'Well, I could do with some more!'
'For the matter of thet, I could do with a gargle!'
Thus encouraged, the gallant returned to the bar, and soon brought out a second pint.
'You 'ave fust pop,' amorously remarked Phyllis, and he took a long drink and handed the pot to her.
She, with maiden modesty, turned it so as to have a different part to drink from; but he remarked as he saw her:
'You are bloomin' particular.'
Then, unwilling to grieve him, she turned it back again and applied her ruby lips to the place where his had been.
'Now we shan't be long!' she remarked, as she handed him back the pot.
The faithful swain took out of his pocket a short clay pipe, blew through it, filled it, and began to smoke, while Phyllis sighed at the thought of the cool liquid gliding down her throat, and with the pleasing recollection gently stroked her stomach. Then Corydon spat, and immediately his love said: