ublime? Subside, vile discord, and again
return to your true 'legiance. Think, my friends, how oft your gorgeous
pouch I've crammed, all calapash, green fat, and calapee. Remember how
you've feasted, stood inert for ages, until size immense you've gained.
And think, how different is the service of Munchausen, where you o'er
seas, cold, briny, float along the tide, eternal toiling like to slaves
of Algiers and Tripoli. And ev'n on high, balloon like, through the
heavens have journeyed late, upon a rainbow or some awful bridge
stretched eminent, as if on earth he had not work sufficient to distress
your potent servitudes, but he should also seek in heaven dire cause
of labour! Recollect, my friends, even why or wherefore should you thus
assail your lawful magistrate, or why desert his livery? or for what
or wherefore serve this German Lord Munchausen, who for all your labour
shall alone bestow some fudge and heroic blows in war? Then cease, and
thus in amity return to friendship aldermanic, bungy, brown, and sober."

Ceased he then, right worshipful, when both the warring champions
instant stemmed their battle, and in sign of peace and unity returning,
'neath their feet reclined their weapons. Sudden at a signal either
stamped his foot sinistrine, and the loud report of bursten bladder
stunned each ear surrounding, like the roar of thunder from on high
convulsing heaven and earth.

'Twas now upon the saddle once again the knight of Mancha rose, and in
his hand far balancing his lance, full tilt against the troops of bulls
opposing run. And thou, shrill Crillitrilkril, than whom no cricket
e'er on hob of rural cottage, or chimney black, more gladsome turned his
merry note, e'en thou didst perish, shrieking gave the ghost in empty
air, the sport of every wind; for e'en that heart so jocund and so gay
was pierced, harsh spitted by the lance of Mancha, while undaunted thou
didst sit between the horns that crowned Mowmowsky. And now Whittington
advanced, 'midst armour antique and the powers Magog and Gog, and
with his rod enchanting touched the head of every frog, long mute and
thunderstruck, at which, in universal chorus and salute, they sung
blithe jocund, and amain advanced rebellious 'gainst my troop.

While Sphinx, though great, gigantic, seemed instinctive base and
cowardly, and at the sight of storming gingerbread, and powers, Magog
and Gog, and Quixote, all against her, started fierce, o'erturning boat,
balloons, and