Our Admirable Betty - Part 51
Library

Part 51

"Major d'Arcy sir, I charge to you!" Hereupon Sir Benjamin filled and bowed, the Major did the same, and they drank together.

"But Ben," persisted Alvaston, "if Tony----"

"West, the floor and our attention are yours, sir!"

The Captain rose, shot his ruffles, squared his shoulders and read:

"Warble ye songsters of the grove--haw!

Warble of her that is my love Where'er on pinions light ye rove Haw!

Ye feathered songsters--warble.

"Warble ye heralds of the--haw!--the air Warble her charms beyond compare Warble here and warble there Haw!

Ye feathered songsters--warble.

Warble, warble on the spray Warble night and warble day Warble, warble whiles ye may Haw!

Ye feathered songsters--warble."

"A pretty thing!" nodded Sir Benjamin, "'tis light, 'tis graceful--easy, flowing, and full of----"

"Warbles!" murmured Alvaston.

"'Tis a musical word, sir, and what is poesy but word-music? I commend 'warble' heartily--we all do, I think."

Here a chorus of approval whereupon the Captain bowed, shot his ruffles again, said 'Haw!' and sat down.

"Alton, 'tis now your turn!"

Up rose the Marquis, tossed off his gla.s.s, fished a somewhat crumpled paper from his pocket and incontinent gave tongue:

"A song I sing in praise of Bet I sing a song o' she, sirs O let the ploughboy curse and sweat But what is that to me, sirs?

My bully boys, brave bully boys But what is that to me, sirs?"

"Here's that misfortunate ploughboy sweating again!" sighed Alvaston, while Sir Benjamin choked with wine and indignant horror:

"Hold, od's my life--Alton, hold!" he gasped. "Heaven save us, what's all this? 'Twill never do----"

"Sink me, Ben--why not?"

"Because it sounds like nothing in the world but a low drinking catch, sir, mingled and confused with a vulgar hunting-s.n.a.t.c.h."

"Nay, you'll find it betters as it goes--heark'ee!"

"I love the pretty birds to hear; The horn upon the hill But when my buxom Bet appear Her voice is sweeter still Brave boys!

Her voice is sweeter still!

"The fish that doth in water swim Though burnished bright he be Doth all his scaly splendours dim If Bet he chance to see.

Brave boys!

If Bet he chance to see.

"There's joy----"

"Ha' you got much more, Harry?" enquired Alvaston mournfully.

"O demme yes, when I get my leg over Pegasus, Bob, 'tis hard to dismount me."

"There's joy in riding of a horse That bottom hath and pace But better still I love of course Bet's witching, handsome face.

Brave boys!

Bet's witching, handsome face!

"E'en as the----"

"Hold a minute, Harry! You're givin' us a treatise on natural hist'ry, sure?"

"How so, Bob?"

"Well, you've sung 'bout a bird, 'n' fish, 'n' beast--why ignore the humble reptile? If you've got any more you might give us a rhyme 'bout vermin----"

"Demme, Bob, so I have! Heark'ee:"

"E'en as the small but gamesome flea On her white neck might frisk, sirs Could I be there--then, e'en as he My life, like him, I'd risk, sirs.

My bully boys, brave bully boys My life, like him, I'd risk, sirs!"

Pandemonium broke forth; bottles rolled, gla.s.ses fell unheeded and shivered upon the floor while the long room roared with Gargantuan laughter, rising waves of merriment wherein Sir Benjamin's indignant outburst was wholly drowned and his rapping was lost and all unheeded.

Howbeit, having broken two gla.s.ses and a plate in his determined knocking, he seized upon a bottle and thundered with that until gradually the tempest subsided and a partial calm succeeded.

"Gentlemen!" he cried, his very peruke seeming to bristle with outraged decorum, "gentlemen, I move the total suppression of this verse--"

Here his voice was lost in shouts of: "No, no! Let be, Ben! Order!"

"I say," repeated Sir Benjamin, "it must and shall be suppressed!"

"O why, my Ben, why?" queried Alvaston, feeble with mirth.

"Because 'tis altogether too--too natural! Too--ah intensely, personally intimate----" Here the rafters rang again while drawers, ostlers and waiting-maids peeped in at slyly-opened doors. Silence being at last restored Sir Benjamin arose, snuffed daintily, flicked himself gracefully and bowed:

"Gentlemen," said he, "after the hem! brilliant flights o' fancy we have been privileged to hear, I allude particularly to Sir Jasper's soulful strophes and to--to----"

"Alton's gamesome flea?" suggested Alvaston, whereat was laughter with cries of "Order."

"And to Marchdale's delightful lyric," continued Sir Benjamin. "I do confess to no small diffidence in offering to your attention my own hem! I say my own poor compositions and do so in all humility. My first is a trifle I may describe as an alliterative acrostic, its matter as followeth."

"Bewitching Bet by bounteous Beauty blessed Each eager eye's enjoyment is expressed That thus to thee doth turn then--thrilling thought; Thou, thou thyself that teach may too be taught, Yea, you yourself--to yearn as beauty ought."

"I' faith, gentlemen," said he, bowing to their loud applause, "I humbly venture to think it hath some small ingenuity. My next is a set of simple verselets pretending to no great depth of soul nor heart-stirring pathos, they are hem! they are--what they are----"

"Are ye sure o' that, Ben?" demanded Alvaston earnestly.