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Chapter Twenty Eight.
“You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man—a proper man as one shall see on a summer’s day; a most lovely, gentleman-like man; therefore, you must needs play Pyramus.”
 
“Take care I don’t play the devil with your physiognomy, Mr Western,” retorted Winterbottom.
 
Here Caliban, in the third boat, began playing the and singing to it—
 
“Gaffer, Gaffer’s son, and his little jackass,
 
Were along the road.”
 
The chorus of which ditty was “Ee-aw, Ee-aw!” like the of a jackass.
 
“Bless thee, Bottom, bless thee; thou art translated,” cried Quince, looking at Winterbottom.
 
“Very well—very well, Mr Western. I don’t want to upset the wherry, and therefore you’re safe at present, but the reckoning will come—so I give you warning.”
 
“Slaves of my lamp, do my bidding. I will have no quarrelling here. You, Quince, shut your mouth; you, Winterbottom, draw in your lips, and I, your queen, will charm you with a song,” said Titania, waving her little hand. The fiddler ceased playing, and the voice of the fair actress rivetted all our attention.
 
“Wilt thou waken, bride of May,
 
While flowers are fresh, and sweet bells chime,
 
Listen and learn from my roundelay
 
How all life’s pilot boats sailed one day
 
        A match with Time!
 
 
 
“Love sat on a lotus-leaf aloft,
 
And saw old Time in his loaded boat,
 
Slowly he crossed Life’s narrow tide,
 
While Love sat clapping his wings, and cried,
 
        ‘Who will pass Time?’
 
 
 
“Patience came first, but soon was gone,
 
With helm and sail to help Time on;
 
Care and Grief could not lend an ,
 
And said (while he staid on shore),
 
        ‘I wait for Time.’
 
 
 
“Hope filled with flowers her cork-tree bark,
 
And lighted its helm with a glow-worm’s spark;
 
Then Love, when he saw his bark fly past,
 
Said, ‘Lingering Time will soon be passed,
 
        Hope outspeeds time.’
 
 
 
“Wit went nearest Old Time to pass,
 
With his diamond oar and boat of glass
 
A feathery from his store he drew,
 
And shouted, while far and swift it flew,
 
        ‘O Mirth kills Time!’
 
 
 
“But Time sent the feathery arrow back,
 
Hope’s boat of Amaranthus miss’d its track;
 
Then Love bade its butterfly pilots move,
 
And laughing, said ‘They shall see how Love
 
        Can conquer Time.’”
 
I need hardly say that the song was rapturously applauded, and most deservedly so. Several others were demanded from the ladies and gentlemen of the party, and given without ; but I cannot now recall them to my memory. The and played between whiles, and all was laughter and merriment.
 
“There’s a sweet place,” said , pointing to a on the Thames; “Now, with the fair Titania and ten thousand a-year, one could there live happy.”
 
“I’m afraid the fair Titania must go to market without the latter encumbrance,” replied the lady; “The gentleman must find the ten thousand a-year, and I must bring as my dowry—”
 
“Ten thousand charms,” interrupted Tinfoil—“that’s most true, and pity ’tis ’tis true. Did your fairyship ever hear my epigram on the subject?
 
“Let the lads of the East love the maids of Cash-meer,
 
Nor affection with interests clash;
 
Far other idolatry pleases us here,
 
We adore but the maids of Cash.”
 
“Excellent, good Puck! Have you any more?”
 
“Not of my own, but you have heard what Winterbottom wrote under the of Shakespeare last ?”
 
“I knew not that Apollo had ever visited him.”
 
“You shall hear:—
 
“In this here place the bones of Shakespeare lie,
 
But that ere form of his shall never die;
 
A speedy end and soon this world may have,
 
But Shakespeare’s name shall bloom beyond the grave.”
 
“I’ll trouble you, Mr Tinfoil, not to be so very at my expense,” out Winterbottom. “I never wrote a line of poetry in my life.”
 
“No one said you did, Winterbottom; but you won’t deny that you wrote those lines.”
 
Mr Winterbottom a reply. did we pass the banks of the river, swept up with a strong flood-tide, and at last arrived at a little island agreed upon as the site of the pic-nic. The company disembarked, and were busy looking for a convenient spot for their entertainment, Quince making a rapid escape from Winterbottom, the latter remaining on the bank. “Jenkins,” said he to the man christened Caliban, “you did not forget the salad?”
 
“No, sir, I brought it myself. It’s on the top of the little .”
 
Mr Winterbottom, who, it appears, was extremely partial to salad, was satisfied with the reply, and walked slowly away.
 
“Well,” said Tom to me, wiping the from his brow with his handkerchief, “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. I only wish father had been here. I hope that young lady will sing again before we part.”
 
“I think it very likely, and that the fun is only begun,” replied I. “But come, let’s lend a hand to get the prog out of the boat.”
 
“Pat! pat! and here’s a marvellous convenient place for our . This green plot shall be our stage,” cried Quince, addressing the others of the party.
 
The locality was approved of, and now all were busy in preparation. The were , and cold meats, , pies of various kinds, , etcetera, appeared in abundance.
 
“This is no manager’s feast,” said Tinfoil; “the are not made of wood, nor is small beer substituted for wine. Don Juan’s banquet to the Commendador is a to it.”
 
“All the manager’s stage banquets are , and very sorry jokes into the bargain,” replied another.
 
“I wish old Morris had to eat his own suppers.”
 
“He must get a new set of teeth, or they’ll prove a deal too tough.”
 
“Hiss! turn him out! he’s made a pun.”
 
The hampers were now empty; some laid the cloth upon the grass, and arranged the plates, and knives and forks. The ladies were as busy as the gentlemen—some were wiping the glasses, others putting salt into the salt-cellars. Titania was preparing the salad. Mr Winterbottom, who was doing nothing, her; “May I beg as a favour that you do not cut the salad too small? It loses much of its crispness.”
 
“Why, what a Nebuchadnezzar you are! However, sir, you shall be obeyed.”
 
“Who can fry fish?” cried Tinfoil. “Here are two pairs of soles and some . Where’s Caliban?”
 
“Here I am, sir,” replied the man on his knees, blowing up a fire which he had . “I have got the soup to mind.”
 
“Where’s Stephano?”
 
“Cooling the wine, sir.”
 
“Who, then, can fry fish, I ask?”
 
“I can, sir,” replied Tom; “but not without butter.”
 
“Butter shalt thou have, thou disturber of the element. Have we not Hiren here?”
 
“I wasn’t hired as a cook, at all events,” replied Tom: “but I’m rather a at it.”
 
“Then shalt thou have the place,” replied the actor.
 
“With all my heart and soul,” cried Tom, taking out his knife, and commencing the necessary operation of skinning the fish.
 
In half-an-hour all was ready: the fair Titania did me the honour to seat herself upon my jacket, to off any damp from the ground. The other ladies had also taken their respective seats, as by the mistress of the ; the tables were covered by many of the good things of this life; the soup was ready in a tureen at one end, and Tom had just p............
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