And let each man on opening his mouth be _timed_--and let it be two-minute time--and let me be time-keeper--but, in consideration of your years and habits, and presidency, let time to you, sir, be extended to two minutes and thirty seconds--and let us all talk time about--and let no man seek to nullify the law by talking at railway rate--and let no man who waives his right of turn, however often, think to make up for the loss by claiming quarter of an hour afterwards--and that, too, perhaps at the smartest of the soiree--and let there be no contradiction, either round, flat, or angular--and let no man speak about what he understands--that is, has long studied and made himself master of--for that would be giving him an unfair--I had almost said--would be taking a mean advantage--and let no man-- NORTH. Why, the mutiny at the Nore was nothing to this! BULLER. Lord High Admiral though you be, sir, you must obey the laws of the service-- NORTH. I see how it is. BULLER. How is it? NORTH. But it will soon wear off--that's the saving virtue of Champagne. BULLER. Champagne indeed! Small Beer, smaller than the smallest size. You have not the heart, sir, to give Champagne. NORTH. We had better put about, gentlemen, and go ashore. BULLER. My ever-honoured, long-revered sir! I have got intoxicated on our Teetotal debauchery. The fumes of the water have gone to my head--and I need but a few drops of brandy to set me all right. Billy--the flask. There--I am as sober as a Judge. NORTH. Ay, 'tis thus, Buller, you wise wag, that you would let the "old man garrulous" into the secret of his own tendencies--too often unconscious he of the powers that have set so many asleep. I accept the law--but let it--do let it be three-minute time. BULLER. Five--ten--twenty--"with thee conversing I forget all time." NORTH. Strike medium--Ten. BULLER. My dear sir, for a moment let me have that Spy-glass. NORTH. I must lay it down--for a Bevy of Fair Women are on the Mount--and are brought so near that I hear them laughing--especially the Prima Donna, whose Glass is in dangerous proximity with my nose. BULLER. Fling her a kiss, sir. NORTH. There--and how prettily she returns it! BULLER. Happy old man! Go where you will-- TALBOYS. Ulysses and the Syrens. Had he my air-girdle, he would swim ashore. NORTH. "Oh, mihi præteritos referat si Jupiter annos!" TALBOYS. The words are regretful--but there is no regret in the voice that syllables them--it is clear as a bell, and as gladsome. NORTH. Talking of kissing, I hear one of the most melodious songs that ever flowed from lady's lip--