_Mr Escot._
Even so, sir. You have lost your temper, which I consider equivalent
to a confession that you have the worst of the argument.

_Mr Panscope._
Lightning and devils! sir----

_Squire Headlong._
No civil war!--Temperance, in the name of Bacchus!--A glee! a glee!
_Music has charms to bend the knotted oak._ Sir Patrick, you'll join?

_Sir Patrick O'Prism._
Troth, with all my heart; for, by my soul, I'm bothered completely.

_Squire Headlong._
Agreed, then; you, and I, and Chromatic. Bumpers! Come, strike up.

Squire Headlong, Mr Chromatic, and Sir Patrick O'Prism, each holding a
bumper, immediately vociferated the following

GLEE

A heeltap! a heeltap! I never could bear it!
So fill me a bumper, a bumper of claret!
Let the bottle pass freely, don't shirk it nor spare it,
For a heeltap! a heeltap! I never could bear it!

No skylight! no twilight! while Bacchus rules o'er us:
No thinking! no shrinking! all drinking in chorus: