"And the third was a beau!" cried Augustus; "and Lovett surrendered his right of partnership to me. Do you recollect how I danced his beauship into the ditch? Ah! we were mad fellows then; but we get sated-- _blases_, as the French say--as we grow older!" "We look only to the main chance now," said Ned. "Avarice supersedes enterprise," added the sententious Augustus. "And our captain takes to wine with an _h_ after the _w_!" continued the metaphorical Ned. "Come, we are melancholy," said Tomlinson, tossing off a bumper. "Methinks we are really growing old, we shall repent soon, and the next step will be-hanging!" "'Fore Gad!" said Ned, helping himself, "don't be so croaking. There are two classes of maligned gentry, who should always be particular to avoid certain colours in dressing; I hate to see a true boy in black, or a devil in blue. But here's my last glass to-night! I am confoundedly sleepy, and we rise early to-morrow." "Right, Ned," said Tomlinson; "give us a song before you retire, and let it be that one which Lovett composed the last time we were here." Ned, always pleased with an opportunity of displaying himself, cleared his voice and complied. A DITTY FROM SHERWOOD. I. Laugh with us at the prince and the palace, In the wild wood-life there is better cheer; Would you board your mirth from your neighbour's malice, Gather it up in our garners here. Some kings their wealth from their subjects wring, While by their foes they the poorer wax; Free go the men of the wise wood-king, And it is only our foes we tax. Leave the cheats of trade to the shrewd gude-wife Let the old be knaves at ease; Away with the tide of that dashing life Which is stirred by a constant breeze! II. Laugh with us when you hear deceiving And solemn rogues tell you what knaves we be Commerce and law have a method of thieving Worse than a stand at the outlaw's tree. Say, will the maiden we love despise Gallants at least to each other true? I grant that we trample on legal ties, But I have heard that Love scorns them too, Courage, then,--courage, ye jolly boys, Whom the fool with the knavish rates Oh! who that is loved by the world enjoys Half as much as the man it hates? "Bravissimo, Ned!" cried Tomlinson, rapping the table; "bravissimo! Your voice is superb to-night, and your song admirable. Really, Lovett, it does your poetical genius great credit; quite philosophical, upon my honour." "Bravissimo!" said MacGrawler, nodding his head awfully. "Mr. Pepper's voice is as sweet as a bagpipe! Ah! such a song would have been invaluable to 'The Asinaeum,' when I had the honour to--"