I shall. Dulness of course "in a Shakspearian sense." Like _Bottom_, "I have an exposition of sleep come upon me," but the "captain of my dreams" is not that of the egregious weaver. Pheugh! 'tis torrid! _Nunc est bibendum!_ Where's that wine-cup lying couched in--sand? Good! _Guggle--guggle--guggle!_ The very glug-glug of lapsing liquor is soporific as the sound of "Silver rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals." Sweet "Swan," thy music runneth in my head to-day. Better than the buzzings of the political Bumble-B's, the bray of BART----but no matter! 'Tis a season when, in sugary summer mood, one wishes soft slumbers even to the blaring _Bottoms_ of the hour. "Blessed be the man who invented sleep!" Right, good _Sancho_! "Oh sleep! it is a blessed thing, Beloved from pole to pole!" True, oh Ancient Mariner! Come, lord of stretched ease and night-capped noddles. (_Drowses._) _Enter certain ebony_ Minstrels, _of sham Ethiopian sort, on raucous row--miscalled popular music--eagerly intent_. _First Minstrel (softly)._ Hist! _He_'s here! _Second M. (pianissimo)._ See _He_ slumbers!! _Third M. (sotto voce)._ Now have we _Him_ at vantage!!! _Toby (fortissimo)._ Yap! Yap! Yap! _Sleepy Sage (drowsily)._ Down, Dog of dogs, down, Sir! [TOBIAS, _albeit reluctantly, "downs" accordingly_. _First M._ Say, what shall we tip him? "The Chucker-Out"? _Second M._ Or "Linger longer Lulu!"? Or "Get your Harcourt!"? Or "The Grand Old Man who shied"? _First M._ Or "My Poll and my 'Preponderant Partner' John"? Or "My Pretty Primrosers"? _Second M._ Or "The Hum of B's"? Or "The Tin Gee (Jay) Gee"? _Third M._ By Jabers, no, let's give him something Hibernian--for a change! _First M. (aside)._ Oh Lords deliver us! _Second M. (aside)._ For a _change_? _Third M. (sings fortissimo)_-- My name is PATRICK LEARY, From the town New Tipperary. The heart of BILL O'BRIEN I'm a thorn in. But for my long-promised pay, I must wait another day, For the Peers have chucked me cruel and wid scornin'! _Chorus:_-- To my woes could they be coulder? Since they've give me the could shoulder! To the poor plan-of-campaigners I'm a warnin'. Faix! I've lately tuk the notion I must cross the broiny ocean. And seek funds in Philadelphy some foine mornin'. _Toby (exploding)._ Yap! yap!! yap!!!