"May it do so soon," observed the tall gentleman distinctly.

"What ho, without there! That you, Seymour, lad?" continued the voice.
"Tarry a moment. Where's that cursed ..." and sounds of hasty search
among jingling accoutrements were followed by a snatch of song of
which the boy instantly recognized the words. He had often heard
Dearest sing them.

"Drink to me only with thine eyes
And I will pledge with mine:
Or leave a kiss within the cup
And I'll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine."

Lubin appeared, bearing a funny, fat, black bottle, a black cup (both
appeared to be of leather), and a kind of leaden plate on which was a
small funnily-shaped loaf of bread.

"'Tis well you want none," observed the tall gentleman, "I had asked
you to help me crush a flask else," and on the word the singer emerged
from the tent.

"Jest not on solemn subjects, Seymour," he said soberly, "Wine may
carry me over one more pike-parade.... Good lad.... Here's to thee....
Why should gentlemen drill?... I came to fight for the King, not to
... But, isn't this thy day for de Warrenne? Oh, ten million fiends!