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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mr Punch’s Model Music Hall Songs and
+Dramas, by  F. Anstey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: Mr Punch’s Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas
+       Collected, Improved and Re-arranged from Punch
+
+Author: F. Anstey
+
+Release Date: March 4, 2012 [EBook #39045]
+Last Updated: August 21, 2023
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+Produced by: David Clarke, Fulvia Hughes and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR PUNCH’S MODEL MUSIC HALL ***
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber’s Note: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
+                    }
+                    } denotes a large curly bracket.
+
+
+
+
+    MR. PUNCH’S
+
+    MODEL MUSIC-HALL
+
+    SONGS & DRAMAS.
+
+
+
+
+    By F. ANSTEY.
+
+    MR. PUNCH’S
+    YOUNG RECITER
+
+    Illustrated.
+
+    Price 3_s._ 6_d._
+
+
+
+
+    MR. PUNCH’S
+
+    MODEL MUSIC-HALL
+
+    SONGS & DRAMAS.
+
+    Collected, Improved, and Re-Arranged
+
+    FROM “PUNCH.”
+
+    BY F. ANSTEY,
+    AUTHOR OF “VICE VERSÂ,” “MR. PUNCH’S YOUNG RECITER,” &C
+
+    With Illustrations.
+
+    LONDON:
+    BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., 9, BOUVERIE ST., E.C.
+    1892.
+
+
+
+
+    LONDON
+
+    BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                          PAGE
+
+    INTRODUCTION                             3
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+
+            SONGS.
+
+    I.--THE PATRIOTIC                       15
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    II.--THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL              18
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    III.--A DEMOCRATIC DITTY                23
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IV.--THE IDYLLIC                        27
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    V.--THE AMATORY EPISODIC                31
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VI.--THE CHIVALROUS                     37
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VII.--THE FRANKLY CANAILLE              40
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VIII.--THE DRAMATIC SCENA               47
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IX.--THE DUETTISTS                      53
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    X.--DISINTERESTED PASSION               59
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XI.--THE PANEGYRIC PATTER               63
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XII.--THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC          69
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XIII.--THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR        73
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+
+            DRAMAS.
+
+    I.--THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER         79
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    II.--JOE, THE JAM-EATER                 86
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    III.--THE MAN-TRAP                      93
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IV.--THE FATAL PIN                      99
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    V.--BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE           106
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VI.--COMING OF AGE                     113
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VII.--RECLAIMED!                       120
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    VIII.--JACK PARKER.                    132
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IX.--UNDER THE HARROW                  139
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    X.--TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE          151
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    XI.--THE RIVAL DOLLS                   158
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XII.--CONRAD; OR, THE THUMBSUCKER      166
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+[_The Illustrations are by Edward T. Reed; with others from “Punch.”_]
+
+
+
+
+    MODEL MUSIC HALL.
+
+    INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: MUSIC HALL PROPRIETOR.]
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+The day is approaching, and may even now be within measurable distance,
+when the Music Halls of the Metropolis will find themselves under yet
+more stringent supervision than is already exercised by those active and
+intelligent guardians of middle-class morality, the London County
+Council. The moral microscope which detected latent indecency in the
+pursuit of a butterfly by a marionette is to be provided with larger
+powers, and a still more extended field. In other words, our far-sighted
+and vigilant County Councilmen, perceiving the futility of delaying the
+inspection of Variety Entertainments until such improprieties as are
+contained therein have been suffered to contaminate the public mind for
+a considerable period, are determined to nip these poison-flowers in the
+bud for the future; and, unless Mr. Punch is misinformed, will apply to
+Parliament at the earliest opportunity for clauses enabling them to
+require each item in every forthcoming performance to be previously
+submitted to a special committee for sanction and approval.
+
+The conscientious rigour with which they will discharge this new and
+congenial duty may perhaps be better understood after perusing the
+little prophetic sketch which follows; for Mr. Punch’s Poet, when not
+employed in metrical composition, is a Seer of some pretensions in a
+small way, and several of his predictions have already been shamelessly
+plagiarised by the unscrupulous hand of Destiny. It is not improbable
+that this latest effort of his will receive a similar compliment,
+although this would be more gratifying if Destiny ever condescended to
+acknowledge such obligations. However, here is the forecast for what it
+is worth, a sum of incalculable amount:--
+
+
+POETIC LICENCES.
+
+A VISION OF THE NEAR FUTURE.
+
+     SCENE--_A Committee-room of the L. C. C.; Sub-Committee of
+     Censors, (appointed, under new regulations, to report on all
+     songs intended to be sung on the Music-hall Stage,) discovered
+     in session._
+
+  _Mr. Wheedler_ (_retained for the Ballad-writers_). The next licence I
+have to apply for is for--well, (_with some hesitation_)--a composition
+which certainly borders on the--er--amorous--but I think, Sir, you will
+allow that it is treated in a purely pastoral and Arcadian spirit.
+
+  _The Chairman_ (_gravely_). There _are_ arcades, Mr. Wheedler, I may
+remind you, which are by no means pastoral. I cannot too often repeat
+that we are here to fulfil the mission entrusted to us by the Democracy,
+which will no longer tolerate in its entertainments anything that is
+either vulgar, silly, or offensive in the slightest degree.
+    [_Applause._
+
+  _Mr. Wheedler._ Quite so. With your permission, Sir, I will read you the
+Ballad.
+    [_Reads._
+
+
+“MOLLY AND I.
+
+    “Oh! the day shall be marked in red letter----”
+
+  _The Chairman._ One moment, Mr. Wheedler, (_conferring with his
+colleagues_). “Marked with red letter”--isn’t that a little--eh? liable
+to----You don’t think they’ll have read Hawthorne’s book? Very well,
+then. Go on, Mr. Wheedler, please.
+
+  _Mr. W._ “’Twas warm, with a heaven so blue.”
+
+  _First Censor._ Can’t pass those two epithets--you must tone them down,
+Mr. Wheedler--_much_ too suggestive!
+
+  _Mr. W._ That shall be done.
+
+  _The Chairman._ And it ought to be “sky.”
+
+  _Mr. W._ “When amid the lush meadows I met her,
+              My Molly, so modest and true!”
+
+  _Second Censor._ I object to the word “lush”--a direct incitement to
+intemperance!
+
+  _Mr. W._ I’ll strike it out. (_Reads._)
+
+    “Around us the little kids rollicked,
+     Lighthearted were all the young lambs----”
+
+  _Second Censor._ Surely “kids” is _rather_ a vulgar expression, Mr.
+Wheedler? Make it “_children_,” and I’ve no objection.
+
+  _Mr. W._ I have made it so. (_Reads._)
+
+    “They kicked up their legs as they frolicked”----
+
+  _Third Censor._ If that is intended to be done on the stage, I protest
+most strongly--a highly indecorous exhibition!
+     [_Murmurs of approval._
+
+  _Mr. W._ But they’re only lambs!
+
+  _Third Censor._ Lambs, indeed! We are determined to put down _all_
+kicking in Music-hall songs, no matter _who_ does it! Strike that line
+out.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_reading_). “And frisked by the side of their dams.”
+
+  _First Censor_ (_severely_). No profanity, Mr. Wheedler, _if_ you
+please!
+
+  _Mr. W._ Er--I’ll read you the Refrain. (_Reads, limply._)
+
+    “Molly and I. With nobody nigh.
+      Hearts all a-throb with a rapturous bliss,
+    Molly was shy. And (at first) so was I,
+      Till I summoned up courage to ask for a kiss!”
+
+  _The Chairman._ “Nobody nigh,” Mr. Wheedler? I don’t quite like that.
+The Music Hall ought to set a good example to young persons. “Molly and
+I--_with her chaperon by_,” is better.
+
+  _Second Censor._ And that last line--“asking for a kiss”--does the song
+state that they were formally engaged, Mr. Wheedler?
+
+  _Mr. W._ I--I believe it omits to mention the fact. But (_ingeniously_)
+it does not appear that the request was complied with.
+
+  _Second Censor._ No matter--it should never have been made. Have the
+goodness to alter that into--well, something of this kind. “And I always
+addressed her politely as “Miss.” Then we _may_ pass it.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_reading the next verse_).
+
+    “She wore but a simple sun-bonnet.”
+
+  _First Censor_ (_shocked_). Now really, Mr. Wheedler, _really_, Sir!
+
+  _Mr. W._    “For Molly goes plainly attired.”
+
+  _First Censor_ (_indignantly_). I should think so--_Scandalous_!
+
+  _Mr. W._    “Malediction I muttered upon it,
+               One glimpse of her face I desired.”
+
+[Illustration: Licensing Day.]
+
+  _The Chairman._ I think my colleague’s exception is perhaps just a
+_leetle_ far-fetched. At all events, if we substitute for the last
+couplet,
+
+    “Her dress is sufficient--though on it
+     She only spends what is strictly required.”
+
+Eh, Mr. Wheedler? Then we work in a moral as well, you see, and avoid
+malediction, which can only mean bad language.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_doubtfully_). With all respect, I submit that it doesn’t scan
+quite so well----
+
+  _The Chairman_ (_sharply_). _I_ venture to think scansion may be
+sacrificed to propriety, _occasionally_, Mr. Wheedler--but pray go on.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_continuing_).
+
+    “To a streamlet we rambled together.
+      I carried her tenderly o’er.
+    In my arms--she’s as light as a feather--
+      That sweetest of burdens I bore!”
+
+  _First Censor._ I really _must_ protest. No properly conducted young
+woman would ever have permitted such a thing. You must alter that, Mr.
+Wheedler!
+
+  _Second C._ And I don’t know--but I rather fancy there’s a
+“double-intender” in that word “light”--(_to colleague_)--it strikes
+me--eh?--what do _you_ think?----
+
+  _The Chairman_ (_in a conciliatory manner_). I am inclined to agree to
+some extent--not that I consider the words particularly objectionable in
+themselves, but we are men of the world, Mr. Wheedler, and as such we
+cannot shut our eyes to the fact that a Music-hall audience is only too
+apt to find significance in many apparently innocent expressions and
+phrases.
+
+  _Mr. W._ But, Sir, I understood from your remarks recently that the
+Democracy were strongly opposed to anything in the nature of
+suggestiveness!
+
+  _The Ch._ Exactly so; and therefore we cannot allow their
+susceptibilities to be shocked. (_With a severe jocosity._) Molly and
+you, Mr. Wheedler, must either ford the stream like ordinary persons, or
+stay where you are.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_depressed._) I may as well read the last verse, I suppose:
+
+    “Then under the flickering willow
+      I lay by the rivulet’s brink,
+    With her lap for a sumptuous pillow----”
+
+  _First Censor._ We can’t have that. It is really _not_ respectable.
+
+  _The Ch._ (_pleasantly._) Can’t we alter it slightly? “I’d brought a
+small portable pillow.” No objection to _that_!
+
+     [_The other Censors express dissent in undertones._
+
+  _Mr. W._    “Till I owned that I longed for a drink.”
+
+  _Third C._ No, no! “A drink”! We all know what _that_ means--alcoholic
+stimulant of some kind. At all events that’s how the audience are
+certain to take it.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_feebly_).
+
+    “So Molly her pretty hands hollowed
+      Into curves like an exquisite cup,
+    And draughts so delicious I swallowed,
+      That rivulet nearly dried up!”
+
+  _Third C._ Well, Mr. Wheedler, you’re not going to defend _that_, I
+hope?
+
+  _Mr. W._ I’m not prepared to deny that it is silly--_very_ silly--but
+hardly--er--vulgar, I should have thought?
+
+  _Third C._ That is a question of taste, which we won’t dispute. _I_ call
+it _distinctly_ vulgar. Why can’t he drink out of his _own_ hands?
+
+  _The Ch._ (_blandly_). Allow me. How would _this_ do for the second
+line? “She had a collapsible cup.” A good many people _do_ carry them. I
+have one myself. Is that all of your Ballad, Mr. Wheedler?
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_with great relief._) That _is_ all, Sir.
+
+     [_Censors withdraw, to consider the question._
+
+  _The Ch._ (_after consultation with colleagues_). We have carefully
+considered this song, and we are all reluctantly of opinion that we
+cannot, consistently with our duty, recommend the Council to license
+it--even with the alterations my colleagues and myself have gone
+somewhat out of our way to suggest. The whole subject is too dangerous
+for a hall in which young persons of both sexes are likely to be found
+assembled; and the absence of any distinct assertion that the young
+couple--Molly and--ah--the gentleman who narrates the experience--are
+betrothed, or that their attachment is, in any way, sanctioned by their
+parents or guardians, is quite fatal. If we have another Ballad of a
+similar character from the same quarter, Mr. Wheedler, I feel bound to
+warn you that we may possibly consider it necessary to advise that the
+poet’s licence should be cancelled altogether.
+
+  _Mr. W._ I will take care to mention it to my client, Sir. I understand
+it is his intention to confine himself to writing Gaiety burlesques in
+future.
+
+  _The Ch._ A very laudable resolution! I hope he will keep it.
+     [_Scene closes in._
+
+
+It is hardly possible that any Music-hall Manager or vocalist,
+irreproachable as he may hitherto have considered himself, can have
+taken this glimpse into a not very remote futurity without symptoms of
+uneasiness, if not of positive dismay. He will reflect that the ballad
+of “Molly and I,” however reprehensible it may appear in the fierce
+light of an L. C. C. Committee Room, is innocuous, and even moral,
+compared to the ditties in his own _répertoire_. How, then, can he hope,
+when his hour of trial strikes, to confront the ordeal with an unruffled
+shirt-front, or a collar that shall retain the inflexibility of
+conscious innocence? And he will wish then that he had confined himself
+to the effusions of a bard who could not be blamed by the most
+censorious moralist.
+
+Here, if he will only accept the warning in time, is his best safeguard.
+He has only to buy this little volume, and inform his inquisitors that
+the songs and business with which he proposes to entertain an ingenuous
+public are derived from the immaculate pages of Mr. Punch. Whereupon
+censure will be instantly disarmed and criticism give place to
+congratulation. It is just possible, to be sure, that this somewhat
+confident prediction smacks rather of the Poet than the Seer, and that
+even the entertainment supplied by Mr. Punch’s Music Hall may, to the
+Purist’s eye, present features as suggestive as a horrid vulgar clown,
+or as shocking as a butterfly, an insect notorious for its frivolity.
+But then, so might the “songs and business” of the performing canary, or
+the innocent sprightliness of the educated flea, with its superfluity of
+legs, all absolutely unclad. At all events, the compiler of this
+collection ventures to hope that, whether it is fortunate enough to find
+favour or not with Music-hall “artistes,” literary critics, and London
+County Councilmen, it contains nothing particularly objectionable to the
+rest of the British Public. And very likely, even in this modest
+aspiration, he is over-sanguine, and his little joke will be taken
+seriously. Earnestness is so alarmingly on the increase in these days.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+    MODEL MUSIC HALL.
+
+    SONGS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE PATRIOTIC.]
+
+I.--THE PATRIOTIC
+
+
+This stirring ditty--so thoroughly sound and practical under all its
+sentiment--has been specially designed to harmonise with the recently
+altered tone of Music-hall audiences, in which a spirit of enlightened
+Radicalism is at last happily discernible. It is hoped that, both in
+rhyme and metre, the verses will satisfy the requirements of this most
+elegant form of composition. The song is intended to be shouted through
+music in the usual manner by a singer in evening dress, who should carry
+a small Union Jack carelessly thrust inside his waistcoat. The title is
+short but taking:--
+
+
+ON THE CHEAP!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    Of a Navy insufficient cowards croak, deah boys!
+    If our place among the nations we’re to keep.
+    But with British beef, and beer, and hearts of oak, deah boys!--
+    (_With enthusiasm._) We can make a shift to do it--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    (_With a common-sense air_.) Let us keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
+    While Britannia is the boss upon the deep,
+    She can wollop an invader, when he comes in his Armada,
+    If she’s let alone to do it--On the Cheap!
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    (_Affectionately._)
+    Johnny Bull is just as plucky as he _was_, deah boys!
+    (_With a knowing wink._) And he’s wide awake--no error!--not asleep;
+    But he won’t stump up for ironclads--becos, deah boys!
+    He don’t see his way to get ’em--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    So keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
+    (_Gallantly._) And we’ll chance what may happen on the deep!
+    For we can’t be the losers if we save the cost o’ cruisers,
+    And contentedly continue--On the Cheap!
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+    The British Isles are not the Conti-nong, deah boys!
+    (_Scornfully._) Where the Johnnies on defences spend a heap.
+    No! we’re Britons, and we’re game to jog along, deah boys!
+    (_With pathos._) In the old time-honoured fashion--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    (_Imploringly._) Ah! keep, deah boys! On the Cheap;
+    For the price we’re asked to pay is pretty steep.
+    Let us all unite to dock it, keep the money in our pocket,
+    And we’ll conquer or we’ll perish--On the Cheap!
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+    If the Tories have the cheek to touch our purse, deah boys!
+    Their reward at the elections let ’em reap!
+    They will find a big Conservative reverse, deah boys!
+    If they can’t defend the country--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    They must keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
+    Or the lot out of office we will sweep!
+    Bull gets rusty when you tax him, and his patriotic maxim
+    Is, “I’ll trouble you to govern--On the Cheap!”
+
+_Fifth Verse_ (_this to be sung shrewdly_).
+
+    If the Gover’ment ain’t mugs they’ll take the tip, deah boys!
+    Just to look a bit ahead before they leap,
+    And instead of laying down an extry ship, deah boys!
+    They’ll cut down the whole caboodle--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus_ (_with spirit and fervour_).
+
+    And keep, deah boys! On the Cheap!
+    For we ain’t like a bloomin’ lot o’ sheep.
+    When we want to “parry bellum,”[A]
+                     [_Union Jack to be waved here._
+    You may bet yer boots we’ll tell ’em!
+    But we’ll have the “bellum” “parried”--On the Cheap!
+
+This song, if sung with any spirit, should, _Mr. Punch_ thinks, cause a
+positive _furore_ in any truly patriotic gathering, and possibly go some
+way towards influencing the decision of the country, and consequently
+the fate of the Empire, in the next General Elections. In the meantime
+it is at the service of any Champion Music Hall Comique who is capable
+of appreciating it.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[A] Music-hall Latinity--“_Para bellum_.”
+
+
+
+
+II.--THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL.
+
+[Illustration: “--And the Post!”]
+
+
+In most respects, no doubt, the present example can boast no superiority
+to ditties in the same style now commanding the ear of the public. One
+merit, however, its author does claim for it. Though it deals with most
+of the burning questions of the hour, it can be sung anywhere with
+absolute security. This is due to a simple but ingenious method by which
+the political sentiment has been arranged on the reversible principle. A
+little alteration here and there will put the singer in close touch with
+an audience of almost any shade of politics. Should it happen that the
+title has been already anticipated, _Mr. Punch_ begs to explain that the
+remainder of this sparkling composition is entirely original; any
+similarity with previous works must be put down entirely to “literary
+coincidence.” Whether the title is new or not, it is a very nice one,
+viz:--
+
+
+BETWEEN YOU AND ME--AND THE POST.
+
+(_To be sung in a raucous voice, and with a confidential air._)
+
+    I’ve dropped in to whisper some secrets I’ve heard.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    Picked up on the wing by a ‘cute little bird.
+    We are gentlemen ’ere--so the caution’s absurd,
+    Still, you’ll please to remember that every word
+              Is between you and me and the Post!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the singer should dance_).
+
+      Between you and me and the Post! An ’int is sufficient at most.
+      I’d very much rather this didn’t go farther,
+               than ’tween you and me and the Post!
+
+    At Lord Sorlsbury’s table there’s sech a to-do.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    When he first ketches sight of his dinner _menoo_,
+    And sees he’s set down to good old Irish stoo--
+    Which he’s sick of by this time--now, tell me, ain’t _you_?
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+
+     _(This happy and pointed allusion to the Irish Question is sure
+     to provoke loud laughter from an audience of Radical
+     sympathies. For Unionists, the words_ “Lord Sorlsbury’s” _can be
+     altered by our patent reversible method into “the_ G. O. M.’s,”
+     _without at all impairing the satire.) Chorus, as before._
+
+    The G. O. M.’s hiding a card up his sleeve.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    Any ground he has lost he is going to retrieve,
+    And what _his_ little game is, he’ll let us perceive,
+    And he’ll pip the whole lot of ’em, so I believe,
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (_The hit will be made quite as palpably for the other side by
+     substituting_ “Lord Sorlsbury’s,” _&c., at the beginning of the
+     first line, should the majority of the audience be found to
+     hold Conservative views._)
+
+    Little Randolph won’t long be left out in the cold.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    If they’ll let him inside the Conservative fold,
+    He has promised no longer he’ll swagger and scold,
+    But to be a good boy, and to do as he’s told,
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (_The mere mention of_ Lord Randolph’s _name is sufficient to
+     ensure the success of any song._)
+
+    Joey Chamberlain’s orchid’s a bit overblown,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+
+     (_This is rather subtle, perhaps, but an M.-H. audience will
+     see a joke in it somewhere, and laugh._)
+
+    ’Ow to square a round table I’m sure he has shown.
+
+     (_Same observation applies here._)
+
+    But of late he’s been leaving his old friends alone,
+    And I fancy he’s grinding an axe of his own,
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (_We now pass on to Topics of the Day, which we treat in a
+     light but trenchant fashion._)
+
+    On the noo County Councils they’ve too many nobs,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    For the swells stick together, and sneer at the mobs;
+    And it’s always the rich man the poor one who robs.
+    We shall ’ave the old business--all jabber and jobs!
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (N.B.--_This verse should not be read to the L. C. C. who might
+     miss the fun of it._)
+
+    There’s a new rule for ladies presented at Court,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    High necks are allowed, so no colds will be cort,
+    But I went to the droring-room lately, and thort
+    Some old wimmen had dressed quite as low as they _ort_!
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+    By fussy alarmists we’re too much annoyed,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    If we don’t want our neighbours to think we’re afroid,
+                                               [_M.-H. rhyme._
+    Spending dibs on defence we had better avoid.
+    And give ’em instead to the poor unemployed.
+                                    [_M.-H. political economy._
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+    This style of perlitical singing ain’t hard,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    As a “Mammoth Comique” on the bills I am starred,
+    And, so long as I’m called, and angcored, and hurrar’d,
+    I can rattle off rubbish like this by the yard,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+
+     [_Chorus, and dance off to sing the same song_--_with or
+     without alterations_--_in another place._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: A DEMOCRATIC DITTY.]
+
+III.--A DEMOCRATIC DITTY.
+
+
+The following example, although it gives a not wholly inadequate
+expression to what are understood to be the loftier aspirations of the
+most advanced and earnest section of the New Democracy, should not be
+attempted, as _yet_, before a West-End audience. In South or East
+London, the sentiment and philosophy of the song may possibly excite
+rapturous enthusiasm; in the West-End, though the tone is daily
+improving, they are not educated quite up to so exalted a level at
+present. Still, as an experiment in proselytism, it might be worth
+risking, even there. The title it bears is:--
+
+
+GIVEN AWAY--WITH A POUND OF TEA!
+
+VERSE I.--(_Introductory._)
+
+    Some Grocers have taken to keeping a stock
+    Of ornaments--such as a vase, or a clock--
+    With a ticket on each where the words you may see:
+    “To be given away--with a Pound of Tea!”
+
+_Chorus_ (_in waltz time_).
+
+                “Given away!”
+                That’s what they say.
+    Gratis--a present it’s offered you free.
+                Given away.
+                With nothing to pay,
+    “Given away--[_tenderly_]--with a Pound of Tea!”
+
+VERSE II.--(_Containing the moral reflection._)
+
+    Now, the sight of those tickets gave me an idear.
+    What it set me a-thinking you’re going to ’ear:
+    I thought there were things that would possibly be
+    Better given away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--“Given away.” So much as to say, &c.
+
+VERSE III.--(_This, as being rather personal than general in its
+application, may need some apology. It is really put in as a graceful
+concession to the taste of an average Music-hall audience, who like to
+be assured that the Artists who amuse them are as unfortunate as they
+are erratic in their domestic relations._)
+
+    Now, there’s my old Missus who sits up at ’ome--
+    And when I sneak _up_-stairs my ’air she will comb,--
+    I don’t think I’d call it bad business if _she_
+    Could be given away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--“Given away!” That’s what they say, &c.
+                                            [_Mutatis mutandis._
+
+VERSE IV.--(_Flying at higher game. The social satire here is perhaps
+almost too good-natured, seeing what intolerable pests all Peers are to
+the truly Democratic mind. But we must walk before we can run.
+Good-humoured contempt will do very well, for the present._)
+
+    Fair Americans snap up the pick of our Lords.
+    It’s a practice a sensible Briton applords.
+        [_This will check any groaning at the mention of Aristocrats._
+    Far from grudging our Dooks to the pretty Yan-kee,--
+    (_Magnanimously_) Why, we’d give ’em away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--Give ’em away! So we all say, &c.
+
+VERSE V.--(_More frankly Democratic still._)
+
+    To-wards a Republic we’re getting on fast;
+    Many old Institootions are things of the past.
+    (_Philosophically_) Soon the Crown’ll go, too, as an a-noma-lee,
+    And be given away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--“Given away!” Some future day, &c.
+
+VERSE VI.--(_Which expresses the peaceful proclivities of the populace
+with equal eloquence and wisdom. A welcome contrast to the era when
+Britons had a bellicose and immoral belief in the possibility of being
+called upon to defend themselves at some time!_)
+
+    We’ve made up our minds--though the Jingoes may jor--
+    Under no provocation to drift into war!
+    So the best thing to do with our costly Na-vee
+    Is--Give each ship away, with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--Give ’em away, &c.
+
+VERSE VII.--(_We cannot well avoid some reference to the Irish Question
+in a Music-hall ditty, but observe the logical and statesmanlike method
+of treating it here. The argument--if crudely stated--is borrowed from
+some advanced by our foremost politicians._)
+
+    We’ve also discovered at last that it’s crule
+    To deny the poor Irish their right to ’Ome Rule!
+    So to give ’em a Parlyment let us agree--
+    (_Rationally_) Or they may blow us up with a Pound of their “Tea”!
+
+        [_A euphemism which may possibly be remembered and understood._
+
+        _Chorus_--Give it away, &c.
+
+VERSE VIII. (_culminating in a glorious prophetic burst of the Coming
+Dawn_).
+
+    Iniquitous burdens and rates we’ll relax:
+    For each “h” that’s pronounced we will clap on a tax!
+                                          [_A very popular measure._
+    And a house in Belgraveyer, with furniture free,
+    Shall each Soshalist sit in, a taking his tea!
+
+  _Chorus, and dance off._--Given away! Ippipooray!
+      Gratis we’ll get it for nothing and free!
+      Given away! Not a penny to pay!
+      Given away!--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+
+If this Democratic Dream does not appeal favourably to the imagination
+of the humblest citizen, the popular tone must have been misrepresented
+by many who claim to act as its chosen interpreters--a supposition _Mr.
+Punch_ must decline to entertain for a single moment.
+
+
+
+
+IV.--THE IDYLLIC.
+
+
+The following ballad will not be found above the heads of an average
+audience, while it is constructed to suit the capacities of almost any
+lady _artiste_.
+
+
+SO SHY!
+
+     _The singer should, if possible, be of mature age, and incline
+     to a comfortable embonpoint. As soon as the bell has given the
+     signal for the orchestra to attack the prelude, she will step
+     upon the stage with that air of being hung on wires, which
+     seems to come from a consciousness of being a favourite of the
+     public._
+
+    I’m a dynety little dysy of the dingle,
+         [_Self-praise is a great recommendation--in Music-hall songs_.
+      So retiring and so timid and so coy.
+    If you ask me why so long I have lived single,
+      I will tell you--’tis because I am so shoy.
+
+     [_Note the manner in which the rhyme is adapted to meet
+     Arcadian peculiarities of pronunciation._
+
+_Spoken_--Yes, I am--really, though you wouldn’t think it to look at me,
+would you? But, for all that,--
+
+  _Chorus_--When I’m spoken to, I wriggle,
+            Going off into a giggle,
+          And as red as any peony I blush;
+            Then turn paler than a lily,
+            For I’m such a little silly,
+          That I’m always in a flutter or a flush!
+
+     [_After each chorus an elaborate step-dance, expressive of
+     shrinking maidenly modesty._
+
+    I’ve a cottage far away from other houses,
+      Which the nybours hardly ever come anoigh;
+    When they do, I run and hoide among the rouses,
+      For I _cannot_ cure myself of being shoy.
+
+_Spoken_--A great girl like me, too! But there, it’s no use trying,
+for--
+
+        _Chorus_--When I’m spoken to, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    Well, the other day I felt my fice was crimson,
+      Though I stood and fixed my gyze upon the skoy,
+    For at the gyte was sorcy Chorley Simpson,
+      And the sight of him’s enough to turn me shoy.
+
+_Spoken_--It’s singular, but Chorley always ’as that effect on me.
+
+        _Chorus_--When he speaks to me, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    Then said Chorley: “My pursuit there’s no evyding.
+      Now I’ve caught you, I insist on a reploy.
+    Do you love me? Tell me truly, little myding!”
+      But how _is_ a girl to answer when she’s shoy?
+
+_Spoken_--For even if the conversation happens to be about nothing
+particular, it’s just the same to me.
+
+        _Chorus_--When I’m spoken to, I wriggle, &c.
+
+[Illustration: THE IDYLLIC.]
+
+    There we stood among the loilac and syringas,
+      More sweet than any Ess. Bouquet you boy;
+                                      [_Arcadian for “buy.”_
+    And Chorley kept on squeezing of my fingers,
+      And I couldn’t tell him not to, being shoy.
+
+_Spoken_--For, as I told you before,--
+
+        _Chorus_--When I’m spoken to, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    Soon my slender wyste he ventured on embrycing,
+      While I only heaved a gentle little soy;
+    Though a scream I would have liked to rise my vice in,
+      It’s so difficult to scream when you are shoy!
+
+_Spoken_--People have such different ways of listening to proposals. As
+for me,--
+
+        _Chorus_--When they talk of love, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    So very soon to Church we shall be gowing,
+      While the bells ring out a merry peal of jy.
+    If obedience you do not hear me vowing,
+      It will only be because I am so shy.
+
+     [_We have brought the rhyme off legitimately at last, it will
+     be observed._
+
+_Spoken_--Yes, and when I’m passing down the oil, on Chorley’s arm, with
+everybody looking at me,--
+
+  _Chorus_--I am certain I shall wriggle,
+            And go off into a giggle,
+          And as red as any peony I’ll blush.
+            Going through the marriage service
+            Will be sure to mike me nervous,
+                        [_Note the freedom of the rhyme._
+          And to put me in a flutter and a flush!
+
+
+
+
+V.--THE AMATORY EPISODIC.
+
+
+The history of a singer’s latest love--whether fortunate or
+otherwise--will always command the interest and attention of a
+Music-hall audience. Our example, which is founded upon the very best
+precedents, derives an additional piquancy from the social position of
+the beloved object. Cultivated readers are requested not to shudder at
+the rhymes. _Mr. Punch’s_ Poet does them deliberately and in cold blood,
+being convinced that without these somewhat daring concords, no ditty
+would have the slightest chance of satisfying the great ear of the
+Music-hall public.
+
+The title of the song is:--
+
+
+MASHED BY A MARCHIONESS.
+
+     _The singer should come on correctly and tastefully attired in
+     a suit of loud dittoes, a startling tie, and a white hat_--_the
+     orthodox costume (on the Music-hall stage) of a middle-class
+     swain suffering from love-sickness. The air should be of the
+     conventional jog-trot and jingle order, chastened by a
+     sentimental melancholy._
+
+    I’ve lately gone and lost my ’art--and where you’ll never guess--
+    I’m regularly mashed upon a lovely Marchioness!
+    ’Twas at a Fancy Fair we met, inside the Albert ’All;
+    So affable she smiled at me as I came near her stall!
+
+  _Chorus_--Don’t tell me Belgravia is stiff in behaviour!
+              She’d an Uncle an Earl, and a Dook for her Pa--
+              Still there was no starchiness in that fair Marchioness,
+              As she stood at her stall in the Fancy Bazaar!
+
+    At titles and distinctions once I’d ignorantly scoff,
+    As if no bond could be betwixt the tradesman and the toff!
+    I held with those who’d do away with difference in ranks--
+    But that was all before I met the Marchioness of Manx!
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don’t tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    A home was being started by some kind aristo-cràts,
+    For orphan kittens, born of poor, but well-connected cats;
+    And of the swells who planned a _Fête_ this object to assist,
+    The Marchioness of Manx’s name stood foremost on the list.
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don’t tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    I never saw a smarter hand at serving in a shop,
+    For every likely customer she caught upon the ’op!
+    And from the form her ladyship displayed at that Bazaar,
+    (_With enthusiasm_)--You might have took your oath she’d
+        been brought up behind a bar!
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don’t tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    In vain I tried to kid her that my purse had been forgot,
+    She spotted me in ’alf a jiff, and chaffed me precious hot!
+    A sov. for one regaliar she gammoned me to spend.
+    “You really can’t refuse,” she said, “I’ve bitten off the end!”
+
+[Illustration: THE AMATORY EPISODIC.]
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don’t tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    “Do buy my crewel-work,” she urged, “it goes across a chair,
+    You’ll find it come in useful, as I see you ’ile your ’air!”
+    So I ’anded over thirty bob, though not a coiny bloke.
+    I couldn’t tell a Marchioness how nearly I was broke!
+
+_Spoken_--Though I _did_ take the liberty of saying: “Make it fifteen
+bob, my lady!” But she said, with such a fascinating look--I can see it
+yet!--“Oh, I’m sure _you_’re not a ’aggling kind of a man,” she says,
+“you haven’t the face for it. And think of all them pore fatherless
+kittings,” she says; “think what thirty bob means to _them_!” says she,
+glancing up so pitiful and tender under her long eyelashes at me. Ah,
+the Radicals may talk as they _like_, but----
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don’t tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    A raffle was the next concern I put my rhino in:
+    The prize a talking parrot, which I didn’t want to win.
+    Then her sister, Lady Tabby, shewed a painted milking stool,
+    And I bought it--though it’s not a thing I sit on as a rule.
+
+_Spoken_--Not but what it was a handsome article in its way, too,--had
+a snow-scene with a sunset done in oil on it. “It will look lovely in
+your chambers,” says the Marchioness; “it was ever so much admired at
+Catterwall Castle!” It didn’t look so bad in my three-pair back, I must
+say, though unfortunately the sunset came off on me the very first time
+I happened to set down on it. Still think of the condescension of
+painting such a thing at all!
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don’t tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    The Marquis kept a-fidgeting and frowning at his wife,
+    For she talked to me as free as if she’d known me all my life!
+    I felt that I was in the swim, so wasn’t over-awed,
+    But ’ung about and spent my cash as lavish as a lord!
+
+_Spoken_--It was worth all the money, I can tell you, to be chatting
+there across the counter with a real live Marchioness for as long as
+ever my funds would ’old out. They’d have held out much longer, only
+the Marchioness made it a rule never to give change--she couldn’t break
+it, she said, not even for _me_. I wish I could give you an idea of how
+she smiled as she made that remark; for the fact is, when an aristocrat
+_does_ unbend--well,----
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don’t tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    Next time I meet the Marchioness a-riding in the Row,
+    I’ll ketch her eye and raise my ’at, and up to her I’ll go,
+    (_With sentiment_)--And tell her next my ’art I keep the stump
+        of that cigar
+    She sold me on the ’appy day we ’ad at her Bazaar!
+
+_Spoken_--And she’ll be pleased to see me again, _I_ know! She’s not
+one of your stuck-up sort; don’t you make no mistake about it, the
+aristocracy ain’t ’alf as bloated as people imagine who don’t _know_
+’em. Whenever I hear parties running ’em down, I always say:
+
+         _Chorus_--Don’t tell me Belgravia is stiff in behaviour, &c.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE CHIVALROUS.]
+
+VI.--THE CHIVALROUS.
+
+
+     _The singer (who should be a large man, in evening dress, with
+     a crumpled shirt-front) will come on the stage with a bearing
+     intended to convey at first sight that he is a devoted admirer
+     of the fair sex. After removing his crush-hat in an easy
+     manner, and winking airily at the orchestra, he will begin_:--
+
+
+WHY SHOULDN’T THE DARLINGS?
+
+    There’s enthusiasm brimming in the breasts of all the women,
+      And they’re calling for enfranchisement with clamour eloquent:
+    When some parties in a huff rage at the plea for Female Suffrage,
+      I invariably floor them with a simple argu-ment.
+
+_Chorus_ (_to be rendered with a winning persuasiveness_).
+
+        Why _shouldn’t_ the darlings have votes? de-ar things!
+        On politics each of ’em dotes, de-ar things!
+        (_Pathetically._) Oh it _does_ seem so hard
+              They should all be debarred,
+        ’Cause they happen to wear petticoats, de-ar things!
+
+    Nature all the hens to crow meant, I could prove it in a moment,
+      Though they’ve selfishly been silenced by the cockadoodle-doos.
+    But no man of sense afraid is of enfranchising the Ladies.
+      (_Magnanimously._) Let ’em put their pretty fingers into any
+           pie they choose!
+      _Spoken_--For----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn’t_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    They would cease to care for dresses, if we made them elec-tresses,
+      No more time they’d spend on needlework, nor at pianos strum;
+    Every dainty little Dorcas would be sitting on a Caucus,
+      Busy wire-pulling to produce the New Millenni-um!
+      _Spoken_--Oh!----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn’t_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    In the House we’ll see them sitting soon, it will be only fitting
+      They should have an opportunity their country’s laws to frame.
+    And the Ladies’ legislation will be sure to cause sensation,
+      For they’ll do away with everything that seems to them a shame!
+      _Spoken_--Then----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn’t_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    They will promptly clap a stopper on whate’er they deem improper,
+      Put an end to vaccination, landed property, and pubs;
+    And they’ll fine Tom, Dick, and Harry, if they don’t look
+           sharp and marry,
+      And for Kindergartens confiscate those nasty horrid Clubs!
+      _Spoken_--Ah!----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn’t_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    They’ll declare it’s quite immoral to engage in foreign quarrel,
+      And that Britons never never will be warriors any more!
+    When our forces are abolished, and defences all demolished,
+      They will turn upon the Jingo tack, and want to go to war!
+      _Spoken_--So----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn’t_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    (_With a grieved air._) Yet there’s some who’d close such
+                 vistars to their poor down-trodden sistars,
+      And persuade ’em, if they’re offered votes, politely to refuse!
+    Say they do not care about ’em, and would rather be without ’em--
+      Oh, I haven’t common patience with such narrer-minded views!
+      _Spoken_--No!----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn’t_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    And it’s females--that’s the puzzle!--who petition for the muzzle,
+      Which I call it poor and paltry, and I think you’ll say so too.
+    They are not in any danger. Let ’em drop the dog-in-manger!
+      If they don’t require the vote themselves, there’s other Ladies do!
+      _Spoken_--And----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn’t_ the darlings, &c.
+
+     [_Here the singer will gradually retreat backwards to the rear
+     of the stage, open his crush-hat, and extend it in an attitude
+     of triumph as the curtain descends._
+
+
+
+
+VII.--THE FRANKLY CANAILLE.
+
+
+Any ditty which accurately reflects the habits and amusements of the
+people is a valuable human document--a fact that probably accounts for
+the welcome which songs in the following style invariably receive from
+Music-hall audiences generally. If--_Mr. Punch_ presumes--they conceived
+such pictures of their manner of spending a holiday to be unjustly or
+incorrectly drawn in any way, they would protest strongly against being
+so grossly misrepresented. As they do nothing of the sort, no apology
+can be needed for the following effusion, which several ladies now
+adorning the Music-hall stage could be trusted to render with immense
+effect. The singer should be young and charming, and attired as simply
+as possible. Simplicity of attire imparts additional piquancy to the
+words:--
+
+
+THE POOR OLD ’ORSE.
+
+    We ’ad a little outing larst Sunday arternoon;
+    And sech a jolly lark it was, I shan’t forget it soon!
+    We borrered an excursion van to take us down to Kew,
+    And--oh, we did enjoy ourselves! I don’t mind telling _you._
+
+     [_This to the Chef d’Orchestre, who will assume a polite
+     interest._
+
+     [_Here a little spoken interlude is customary._ Mr. P. _does not
+     venture to do more than indicate this by a synopsis, the
+     details can be filled in according to the taste and fancy of_
+     _the fair artiste:--“Yes, we did ’ave a time, I can assure
+     yer.” The party: “Me and_ Jimmy ’Opkins;” _old_ “Pa Plapper.”
+     _Asked because he lent the van. The meanness of his subsequent
+     conduct._ “Aunt Snapper;” _her imposing appearance in her
+     “cawfy-coloured front.”_ Bill Blazer; _his “girl,” and his
+     accordion._ Mrs. Addick _(of the fried-fish emporium round the
+     corner); her gentility--“Never seen out of her mittens, and
+     always the lady, no matter how much she may have taken.” From
+     this work round by an easy transition to--_
+
+  _The Chorus_--For we _’ad_ to stop o’ course,
+                Jest to bait the bloomin’ ’orse,
+                So we’d pots of ale and porter
+                (Or a drop o’ something shorter),
+                While he drunk his pail o’ water,
+                He was sech a whale on water!
+                That more water than he oughter,
+                More water than he oughter,
+                            ’Ad the poor old ’orse!
+
+_Second Stanza._
+
+    That ’orse he was a rum ’un--a queer old quadru-pèd,
+    At every public-’ouse he passed he’d cock his artful ’ed!
+    Sez I: “If he goes on like this, we shan’t see Kew to-night!”
+    Jim ’Opkins winks his eye, and sez--“We’ll git along all right!”
+
+        _Chorus_--Though we ’ave to stop of course,--&c., &c.
+                            [_With slight textual modifications._
+
+_Third Stanza._
+
+    At Kinsington we ’alted, ’Ammersmith, and Turnham Green,
+    The ’orse ’ad sech a thust on him, its like was never seen!
+    With every ’arf a mile or so, that animal got blown:
+    And we was far too well brought-up to let ’im drink alone!
+
+        _Chorus_--As we ’ad to stop, o’ course, &c.
+
+_Fourth Stanza._
+
+    We stopped again at Chiswick, till at last we got to Kew,
+    But when we reached the Gardings--well, there was a fine to-do!
+    The Keeper, in his gold-laced tile, was shutting-to the gate,
+    Sez he: “There’s no admittance now--you’re just arrived too late!”
+
+     [_Synopsis of spoken Interlude: Spirited passage-at-arms
+     between_ Mr. Wm. Blazer _and the_ Keeper; _singular action of_ Pa
+     Plapper; _“I want to see yer Pagoder--bring out yer old Pagoder
+     as you’re so proud on!”_ Mrs. Addick’s _disappointment at not
+     being able to see the “Intemperate Plants,” and the “Pitcher
+     Shrub,” once more. Her subsidence in tears, on the floor of the
+     van._ Keeper _concludes the dialogue by inquiring why the party
+     did not arrive sooner. An’ we sez_, “Well, it was like this,
+     ole cock robin--d’yer see?”
+
+        _Chorus_--We’ve ’ad to stop, o’ course, &c.
+
+_Fifth Stanza._
+
+    “Don’t fret,” I sez, “about it, for they ain’t got much to see
+    Inside their precious Gardings--so let’s go and ’ave some tea!
+    A cup I seem to fancy now--I feel that faint and limp--
+    With a slice of bread-and-butter, and some creases, and a s’rimp!”
+
+     [_Description of the tea_:--“_And the s’rimps--well, I don’t_
+     _want to say anything against the s’rimps--but it did strike me
+     they were feelin’ the ’eat a little--s’rimps are liable to it,
+     and you can’t prevent ’em.” After tea. The only tune_ Mr. Blazer
+     _could play on his accordion. Tragic end of that instrument. How
+     the party had a “little more lush.” Scandalous behaviour of_
+     “Bill Blazer’s _girl.” The company consume what will be
+     elegantly referred to as “a bit o’ booze.”_ Aunt Snapper _“gets
+     the ’ump.” The outrage to her front. The proposal to
+     start--whereupon,_ “Mrs. Addick, _who was a’-settin’ on the
+     geraniums in the winder, smilin’ at her boots, which she’d just
+     took off because she said they stopped her breathing,”
+     protested that there was no hurry, considering that_--
+
+        _Chorus, as before_--We’ve got to stop, o’ course, &c.
+
+_Sixth Stanza._
+
+    But when the van was ordered, we found--what _do_ yer think?
+
+     [_To the_ Chef d’Orchestre, _who will affect complete ignorance._
+
+    That miserable ’orse ’ad been an’ took too much to drink!
+    He kep’ a reeling round us, like a circus worked by steam,
+    And, ’stead o’ keeping singular, he’d turned into a team!
+
+     [_Disgust of the party:_ Pa Plapper _proposes to go back to the
+     inn for more refreshment, urging--_
+
+  _Chorus_--We must wait awhile o’ course,
+            Till they’ve sobered down the ’orse.
+            Just another pot o’ porter
+            Or a drop o’ something shorter,
+            While our good landlady’s daughter
+            Takes him out some soda-warter.
+            For he’s ’ad more than he oughter,
+            He’s ’ad more than he oughter,
+                          ’As the poor old ’orse!
+
+_Seventh Stanza._
+
+    So, when they brought the ’orse round, we started on our way:
+    ’Twas ’orful ’ow the animal from side to side would sway!
+    Young ’Opkins took the reins, but soon in slumber he was sunk--
+    (_Indignantly._) When a interfering Copper ran us in for being drunk!
+
+     [_Attitude of various members of the party. Unwarrantable
+     proceeding on the part of the_ Constable. _Remonstrance by_ Pa
+     Plapper _and the company generally in_--
+
+  _Chorus_--Why, can’t yer shee? o’ coursh
+            Tishn’t us--it ish the ’orsh!
+            He’s a whale at swilling water,
+            We’ve ’ad only ale and porter,
+            Or a drop o’ something shorter.
+            You le’mme go, you shnorter!
+            Don’ you tush me till you oughter!
+            Jus’ look ’ere--to cut it shorter--
+                          Take the poor old ’orsh!
+
+     [_General adjournment to the Police-station. Interview with the_
+     Magistrate _on the following morning._ Mr. Hopkins _called upon to
+     state his defence, replies in_--
+
+  _Chorus_--Why, your wushup sees, o’ course,
+            It was all the bloomin’ ’orse!
+            He _would_ ’ave a pail o’ water
+            Every ’arf a mile (or quarter),
+            Which is what he didn’t oughter!
+            He shall stick to ale or porter,
+            With a drop o’ something shorter,
+            I’m my family’s supporter--
+                          Fine the poor old ’orse!
+
+     [_The_ Magistrate’s _view of the case. Concluding remark that,
+     notwithstanding the success of the excursion, as a whole--it
+     will be some time before the singer consents to go upon any
+     excursion with a horse of such bibulous tendencies as those of
+     the quadruped they drove to Kew._
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE DRAMATIC SCENA.]
+
+VIII.--THE DRAMATIC SCENA.
+
+
+This is always a popular form of entertainment, demanding, as it does,
+even more dramatic than vocal ability on the part of the artist. A song
+of this kind is nothing if not severely moral, an frequently depicts the
+downward career of an incipient drunkard with all the lurid logic of a
+Temperance Tract. _Mr. Punch_, however, is inclined to think that the
+lesson would be even more appreciated and taken to heart by the
+audience, if a slightly different line were adopted such as he has
+endeavoured to indicate in the following example:--
+
+
+THE DANGER OF MIXED DRINKS.
+
+     _The singer should have a great command of facial expression,
+     which he will find greatly facilitated by employing (as indeed
+     is the usual custom) coloured limelight at the wings._
+
+_First Verse (to be sung under pure white light)._
+
+    He (_these awful examples are usually, and quite properly,
+       anonymous_) was once as nice a fellow as you could desire
+       to meet,
+    Partial to a pint of porter, always took his spirits neat;
+    Long ago a careful mother’s cautions trained her son to shrink
+    From the meretricious sparkle of an aërated drink.
+
+
+_Refrain (showing the virtuous youth resisting temptation. N.B. The
+refrain is intended to be spoken through music._ NOT _sung_.)
+
+        Here’s a pub that’s handy.
+          Liquor up with you?
+        Thimbleful of brandy?
+          Don’t mind if I do.
+        Soda-water? No, Sir.
+          Never touch the stuff.
+        Promised mother--so, Sir.
+                         (_With an upward glance._)
+          ’Tisn’t good enough!
+
+_Second Verse._ (_Primrose light for this._)
+
+    Ah, how little we suspected, as we saw him in his bloom,
+    What a demon dogged his footsteps, luring to an awful doom!
+    Vain his mother’s fond monitions; soon a friend, with fiendish laugh,
+    Tempts him to a quiet tea-garden, plies him there with shandy-gaff!
+
+_Refrain_ (_illustrating the first false step_).
+
+        Why, it’s just the mixture
+          I so long have sought!
+        Here I’ll be a fixture
+          Till I’ve drunk the quart!
+        Just the stuff to suit yer.
+          Waiter, do you hear?
+        Make it, for the future,
+          _Three_ parts ginger-beer!
+
+_Third Verse_ (_requiring violet-tinted slide_).
+
+    By-and-by, the ale discarding, ginger-beer he craves alone.
+    Undiluted he procures it, buys it bottled up in stone.
+
+(_The earthenware bottles are said by connoisseurs to contain liquor of
+superior strength and quality._)
+
+    From his lips the foam he brushes--crimson overspreads his brow.
+    To his brain the ginger’s mounting! Could his mother see him now!
+
+_Refrain_ (_depicting the horrors of a solitary debauch poisoned by
+remorse_).
+
+        Shall I have another?
+          Only ginger-pop!
+        (_Wildly._) Ah! I promised mother
+          Not to touch a drop!
+        Far too much I’m tempted.
+          (_Recklessly._) Let me drink my fill!
+        That’s the fifth I’ve emptied--
+          Oh, I feel so ill!
+
+        [_Here the singer will stagger about the boards._
+
+_Fourth Verse._ (_Turn on lurid crimson ray for this._)
+
+    Next with drinks they style “teetotal” he his manhood must degrade;
+    Swilling effervescent syrups--“ice-cream-soda,” “raspberry-ade,”
+    Koumiss tempts his jaded palate--payment he’s obliged to bilk--
+    Then, reduced to destitution, finds forgetfulness in--milk!
+
+_Refrain_ (_indicating rapid moral deterioration_).
+
+        What’s that on the railings?
+                        [_Point dramatically at imaginary area._
+          Milk--and in a can!
+        Though I have my failings,
+          I’m an honest man.
+                            [_Spark of expiring rectitude here._
+        I can _not_ resist it.      [_Pantomime of opening can._
+          That celestial blue!
+        Has the milkman missed it?          [_Melodramatically._
+          _I_’ll be missing too!
+
+_Fifth Verse_ (_in pale blue light_).
+
+    Milk begets a taste for water, so comparatively cheap,
+    Every casual pump supplies him, gratis, with potations deep;
+    He at every drinking-fountain pounces on the pewter cup,
+    Conscious of becoming bloated, powerless to give it up!
+
+_Refrain_ (_illustrative of utter loss of self-respect_).
+
+        “Find one straight before me?”
+          Bobby, you’re a trump!
+        Faintness stealing o’er me--
+          Ha--at last--a pump!
+        If that little maid ’ll
+          Just make room for one,
+        I could grab the ladle
+          After she has done.
+
+     _The last verse is the culminating point of this moral
+     drama:--The miserable wretch has reached the last stage. He
+     shuts himself up in his cheerless abode, and there, in shameful
+     secrecy, consumes the element for which he is powerless to
+     pay--the inevitable Nemesis following._
+
+_Sixth Verse_ (_All lights down in front. Ghastly green light at
+wings_).
+
+    Up his sordid stairs in secret to the cistern now he steals,
+    Where, amidst organic matter, gambol microscopic eels;
+    Tremblingly he turns the tap on--not a trickle greets the trough!
+    For the stony-hearted turncock’s gone and cut his water off!
+
+_Refrain_ (_in which the profligate is supposed to demand an explanation
+from the turncock, with a terrible dénoûment_).
+
+        “Rate a quarter owing,
+          Comp’ny stopped supply.”
+        “Set the stream a-flowing,
+          Demon--or you die!”
+        “Mercy!--ah! you’ve choked me!”
+                       [_In hoarse, strangled voice as the turncock._
+        “_Will_ you turn the plug?”          [_Savagely as the hero._
+          “No!”                              [_Faintly, as turncock._
+
+     [_Business of flinging a corpse on stage, and regarding it
+     terror-stricken. A long pause; then, in a whisper,_--
+
+                                “The fool provoked me!
+    (_With a maniac laugh._) Horror! I’m a Thug!”
+
+     [_Here the artist will die, mad, in frightful agony, and rise
+     to bow his acknowledgments._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE DUETTISTS.]
+
+IX.--THE DUETTISTS.
+
+
+The “Duet and Dance” form so important a feature in Music-hall
+entertainments, that they could hardly, with any propriety, be
+neglected in a model compilation such as _Mr. Punch’s_, and it is
+possible that he may offer more than one example of this blameless
+diversion. For some reason or other, the habit of singing in pairs
+would seem to induce a pessimistic tone of mind in most Music-hall
+_artistes_, and--why, _Mr. Punch_ does not pretend to say--this
+cynicism is always more marked when the performers are of the softer
+sex. Our present study is intended to fulfil the requirements of the
+most confirmed female sceptic, and, though the Message of the Music
+Halls may have been given worthier and fuller expression by pens more
+practised in such compositions, _Mr. Punch_ is still modestly confident
+that this ditty, with all its shortcomings, can be sung in any Music
+Hall in the Metropolis without exciting any sentiment other than entire
+approval of the teaching it conveys. One drawback, indeed, it has, but
+that concerns the performers alone. For the sake of affording contrast
+and relief, it was thought expedient that one of the fair duettists
+should profess an optimism which may--perhaps must--tend to impair her
+popularity. A conscientious _artiste_ may legitimately object, for the
+sake of her professional reputation, to present herself in so
+humiliating a character as that of an _ingénue_, and a female
+“Juggins”; and it does seem as if the Cynical Sister must inevitably
+monopolise the sympathies of an enlightened audience. However, this
+difficulty is less formidable than it appears; it should be easy for
+the Unsophisticated Sister to convey a subtle suggestion here and
+there, possibly in the incidental dance between the verses, that she
+is not really inferior to her partner in smartness and knowledge of
+the world. But perhaps it would be the fairest arrangement if the
+Sisters could agree to alternate so ungrateful a _rôle._
+
+
+RHINO!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+  _First Sister_ (_placing three of the fingers of her left hand
+on her heart, and extending her right arm in timid appeal_).
+
+    Dear sister, of late I’m beginning to doubt
+      If the world is as black as they paint it.
+    It mayn’t be as bad as some try to make out----
+
+  _Second Sister_ (_with an elaborate mock curtsy._)
+    That _is_ a discovery! _Mayn’t_ it?
+
+  _First S._ (_abashed_).
+    I’m sure there are sev’ral who aren’t a bad lot,
+    And some sort of principle seem to have got,
+    For they act on the square----
+
+  _Second S._                    Don’t you talk tommy-rot!
+    It’s done for advertisement, _ain’t_ it?
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _Second S._ Why, there’s nobody at bottom any better than the rest!
+
+  _First S._    Are you sure of it?
+
+  _Second S._                    I’m telling you, and _I_ know,
+              The principle they act upon’s whatever pays ’em best.
+                And the only real religion now is--Rhino!
+
+     [_The last word must be rendered with full metallic effect. A
+     step-dance, expressive of conviction on one part and incipient
+     wavering on the other, should be performed between the verses._
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+  _First S._ (_returning, shaken, to the charge_).
+             Some _un_married men lead respectable lives.
+
+  _Second S._ (_decisively_). Well, I’ve never happened to meet them!
+
+  _First S._ There are husbands who’re always polite to their wives.
+
+  _Second S._ Of course--if their better halves beat them!
+
+  _First S._ Some tradesmen have consciences, so I’ve heard said;
+             Their provisions are never adulteratèd,
+             But they treat all their customers fairly instead.
+
+  _Second S._ ’Cause they don’t find it answer to cheat them!
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _First S._  {What?
+              {
+  _Second S._ {No,--They’re none of ’em at bottom any better
+          than the rest.
+
+  _Second S._         I’m speaking from experience, and _I_ know.
+             If you could put a window-pane in everybody’s breast
+                   You’d see on all the hearts was written--“Rhino!”
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+  _First S._ There are girls you can’t tempt with a title or gold.
+
+  _Second S._ There may be--but I’ve never seen one.
+
+  _First S._ Some much prefer love in a cottage, I’m told.
+
+  _Second S._ (_putting her arms a-kimbo_).
+              If you swallow _that_, you’re a green one!
+              They’ll stick to their lover so long as he’s cash,
+              When it’s gone, they look out for a wealthier mash.
+              A girl on the gush talks unpractical trash--
+                When it comes to the point, she’s a keen one!
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _First S._ Then, are none of us at bottom any better than the rest!
+
+  _Second S._ (_cheerfully_). Not a bit; I am a girl myself and _I_
+   know.
+
+  _First S._ You’d surely never give your hand to someone you detest?
+
+  _Second S._ Why _rather_--if he’s rolling in the Rhino!
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+  _First S._ Philanthropists give up their lives to the poor.
+
+  _Second S._ It’s chiefly with tracts they present them.
+
+  _First S._ Still, some self-denial I’m sure they endure?
+
+  _Second S._ It’s their hobby, and seems to content them.
+
+  _First S._ But don’t they go into those horrible slums?
+
+  _Second S._ Sometimes--with a flourish of trumpets and drums.
+
+  _First S._ I’ve heard they’ve collected magnificent sums.
+
+  _Second S._ And nobody knows how they’ve spent them!
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _Second S._ Oh, they’re none of ’em at bottom any better than the
+   rest!
+                They are only bigger hypocrites, as _I_ know;
+              They’ve famous opportunities for feathering their nest,
+                When so many fools are ready with the Rhino!
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+  _First S._ Our Statesmen are prompted by duty alone.
+
+  _Second S._ (_compassionately_). Whoever’s been gammoning _you_ so?
+
+  _First S._ They wouldn’t seek office for ends of their own?
+
+  _Second S._ What else would induce ’em to do so?
+
+  _First S._ But Time, Health, and Money they all sacrifice.
+
+  _Second S._ I’d do it myself at a quarter the price.
+              There’s pickings for all, and they needn’t ask twice,
+                For they’re able to put on the screw so!
+
+_Refrain_ (_together_).
+
+    No, they’re none of ’em at bottom any better than the rest!
+      They may kid to their constituents--but _I_ know;
+    Whatever lofty sentiments their speeches may suggest,
+      They regulate their actions by the Rhino!
+
+     [_Here the pair will perform a final step-dance, indicative of
+     enlightened scepticism, and skip off in an effusion of sisterly
+     sympathy, amidst enthusiastic applause._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: DISINTERESTED PASSION.]
+
+X.--DISINTERESTED PASSION.
+
+
+When a Music-hall singer does not treat of the tender passion in a
+rakish and knowing spirit, he is apt to exhibit an unworldliness truly
+ideal in its noble indifference to all social distinctions. So amiable
+a tendency deserves encouragement, and _Mr. Punch_ has much pleasure in
+offering the following little idyl to the notice of any Mammoth Comique
+who may happen to be in a sentimental mood. It is supposed to be sung
+by a scion of the nobility, and the _artiste_ will accordingly present
+himself in a brown “billy-cock” hat, a long grey frock-coat,
+fawn-coloured trousers, white “spats,” and primrose, or green,
+gloves--the recognised attire of a Music-hall aristocrat. A
+powerful,--though not necessarily tuneful,--voice is desirable for the
+adequate rendering of this ditty; any words it is inconvenient to sing,
+can always be spoken.
+
+
+ONLY A LITTLE PLEBEIAN!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    When first I met my Mary Ann, she stood behind a barrow--
+      A bower of enchantment spread with many a dainty snack!
+    And, as I gazed, I felt my heart transfixed with Cupid’s arrow,
+      For she opened all her oysters with so fairylike a knack.
+
+_Refrain_ (_throaty, but tender_).
+
+        She’s only a little Plebeian!
+          And I’m a Patrician swell!
+        But she’s as sweet as Aurora, and how I adore her,
+          No eloquence ever can tell!
+        Only a fried-fish vend-ar!
+          Selling her saucers of whilks,
+                       [_Almost defiant stress on the word “whilks.”_
+        But, for me, she’s as slend-ar--far more true and tend-ar,
+          Than if she wore satins and silks!
+
+     [_The grammar of the last two lines is shaky, but the
+     Lion-Comique must try to put up with that, and, after all, does
+     sincere emotion ever stop to think about grammar? If it does,
+     Music-hall audiences don’t--which is the main point._
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    I longed before her little feet to grovel in the gutter:
+      I vowed, unless I won her as a wife, ’twould drive me mad!
+    Until at last a shy consent I coaxed her lips to utter,
+      For she dallied with her Anglo-Dutch, and whispered, “Speak
+       to Dad!”
+
+        _Refrain_--For she’s only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+    I called upon her sire, and found him lowly born, but brawny,
+      A noble type, when sober, of the British artisan;
+    I grasped his honest hand, and didn’t mind its being horny:
+      “Behold!” I cried, “a suitor for your daughter, Mary Ann!”
+
+        _Refrain_--Though she’s only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+    “You ask me, gov’nor, to resign,” said he, “my only treasure,
+      And so a toff her fickle heart away from me has won!”
+    He turned to mask his manly woe behind a pewter measure--
+      Then, breathing blessings through the beer, he said; “All
+              right, my son!
+
+        _Refrain_--If she’s only a little Plebeian,
+                     And you’re a Patrician swell,”--&c.
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+     (_The author flatters himself that, in quiet sentiment and
+     homely pathos he has seldom done anything finer than the two
+     succeeding stanzas._)
+
+    Next I sought my noble father in his old ancestral castle,
+      And at his gouty foot my love’s fond offering I laid--
+    A simple gift of shellfish, in a neat brown-paper parcel!
+      “Ah, Sir!” I cried, “if you could know, you’d love my little
+       maid!”
+
+        _Refrain_--True, she’s only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Sixth Verse._
+
+    Beneath his shaggy eyebrows soon I saw a tear-drop twinkle;
+      That artless present overcame his stubborn Norman pride!
+    And when I made him taste a whilk, and try a periwinkle,
+      His last objections vanished--so she’s soon to be my bride!
+
+        _Refrain_--Ah! she’s only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Seventh Verse._
+
+    Now heraldry’s a science that I haven’t studied much in,
+      But I mean to ask the College--if it’s not against their rules--
+    That three periwinkles proper may be quartered on our ’scutcheon,
+      With a whilk regardant, rampant, on an oyster-knife, all gules!
+
+        _Refrain_--As she’s only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+This little ditty, which has the true, unmistakable ring about it, and
+will, _Mr. Punch_ believes, touch the hearts of any Music-hall audience,
+is entirely at the service of any talented _artiste_ who will undertake
+to fit it with an appropriate melody, and sing it in a spirit of
+becoming seriousness.
+
+
+
+
+XI.--THE PANEGYRIC PATTER.
+
+
+This ditty is designed to give some expression to the passionate
+enthusiasm for nature which is occasionally observable in the
+Music-hall songstress. The young lady who sings these verses will of
+course appear in appropriate costume; viz., a large white hat and
+feathers, a crimson sunshade, a pink frock, high-heeled sand-shoes, and
+a liberal extent of black silk stockings. A phonetic spelling has been
+adopted where necessary to bring out the rhyme, for the convenience of
+the reader only, as the singer will instinctively give the vowel-sounds
+the pronunciation intended by the author.
+
+
+THE JOYS OF THE SEA-SIDE.
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    Oh, I love to sit a-gyzing on the boundless blue horizing,
+      When the scorching sun is blyzing down on sands, and ships, and
+       sea!
+    And to watch the busy figgers of the happy little diggers,
+      Or to listen to the niggers, when they choose to come to me!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the singer should sway in waltz-time_).
+
+        For I’m offully fond of the _Sea_!-side!
+        If I’d only my w’y I would _de_-cide
+            To dwell evermore,
+            By the murmuring shore,
+        With the billows a-blustering _be_-side!
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    Then how pleasant of a morning, to be up before the dorning!
+      And to sally forth a-prorning--e’en if nothing back you bring!
+    Some young men who like fatigue ’ll go and try to pot a sea-gull,
+      What’s the odds if it’s illegal, or the bird they only wing?
+
+        _Chorus_--For it’s one of the sports of the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+    Then what j’y to go a bything--though you’ll swim, if you’re
+           a sly thing,
+      Like a mermaid nimbly writhing, with a foot upon the sand!
+    When you’re tired of old Poseidon, there’s the pier to promenide
+     on,
+      Strauss, and Sullivan, and Haydn form the programme of the band.
+
+        _Chorus_--For there’s always a band at the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+    And, with boatmen so beguiling, sev’ral parties go out siling!
+      Sitting all together smiling, handing sandwiches about,
+    To the sound of concertiner,--till they’re gradually greener,
+      And they wish the ham was leaner, as they sip their bottled
+       stout.
+
+[Illustration: THE PANEGYRIC PATTER.]
+
+        _Chorus_--And they cry, “Put us back on the _Sea_-side!” &c.
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+    There is pleasure unalloyed in hiring hacks and going roiding!
+      (If you stick on tight, avoiding any cropper or mishap,)
+    Or about the rocks you ramble; over boulders slip and scramble;
+      Or sit down and do a gamble, playing “Loo” or “Penny Nap.”
+
+        _Chorus_--“Penny Nap” is the gyme for the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Sixth Verse._
+
+    Then it’s lovely to be spewning, all the glamour of the mewn in,
+      With your love his banjo tewning, ere flirtation can begin!
+    As along the sands you’re strowling, till the hour of ten is
+     towling,
+      And your Ma, severely scowling, asks “Wherever you have bin!”
+
+        _Chorus_--Then you answer “I’ve been by the _Sea_-side!” &c.
+
+_Seventh Verse._
+
+    Should the sky be dark and frowning, and the restless winds be
+     mowning,
+      With the breakers’ thunder drowning all the laughter and the
+       glee;
+    And the day should prove a drencher, out of doors you will
+              not ventcher,
+      But you’ll read the volumes lent yer by the Local Libraree!
+
+        _Chorus_--For there’s sure to be one at the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Eighth Verse._
+
+    If the weather gets no calmer, you can patronise the dramer,
+      Where the leading lady charmer is a chit of forty-four;
+    And a duty none would skirk is to attend the strolling circus,
+      For they’d all be in the workhouse, should their antics cease
+               to dror!
+
+        _Chorus_--And they’re part of the joys of the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Encore Verse_ (_to be used only in case of emergency_).
+
+    Well, I reelly must be gowing--I’ve just time to make my bow in--
+      But I thank you for allowing me to patter on so long.
+    And if, like me, you’re pining for the breezes there’s some brine
+     in,
+      Why, I’ll trouble you to jine in with the chorus to my song!
+
+        _Chorus_ (_all together_)--Oh, we’re offully fond of the
+                    _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC.]
+
+XII.--THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC.
+
+
+A Music-hall audience will always be exceedingly susceptible to
+pathos--so long as they clearly understand that the song is not intended
+to be of a comic nature. However, there is very little danger of any
+misapprehension in the case of our present example, which is as natural
+and affecting a little song as any that have been moving the Music Halls
+of late. The ultra-fastidious may possibly be repelled by what they
+would term the vulgarity of the title,--“The Night-light Ever Burning by
+the Bed”--but, although it is true that this humble luminary is now more
+generally called a “Fairy Lamp,” persons of true taste and refinement
+will prefer the homely simplicity of its earlier name. The song only
+contains three verses, which is the regulation allowance for Music-hall
+pathos, the authors probably feeling that the audience could not stand
+any more. It should be explained that the “tum-tum” at the end of
+certain lines is not intended to be sung--it is merely an indication to
+the orchestra to pinch their violins in a _pizzicato_ manner. The singer
+should either come on as a serious black man--for burnt cork is a
+marvellous provocative of pathos--or as his ordinary self. In either
+case he should wear evening dress, with a large brilliant on each hand.
+
+
+THE NIGHT-LIGHT EVER BURNING BY THE BED.
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    I’ve been thinking of the home where my early years were spent,
+      ’Neath the care of a kind maiden aunt, (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    And to go there once again has been often my intent,
+      But the railway fare’s expensive, so I can’t! (_Tum_-tum!)
+    Still I never can forget that night when last we met:
+      “Oh, promise me--whate’er you do!” she said, (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    “Wear flannel next your chest, and, when you go to rest,
+      Keep a night-light always burning by your bed!” (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Refrain_ (_pianissimo._)
+
+                And my eyes are dim and wet;
+                For I seem to hear them yet--
+    Those solemn words at parting that she said: (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+                “Now, mind you burn a night-light,
+                --’Twill last until it’s quite light--
+      In a saucerful of water by your bed!” (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    I promised as she wished, and her tears I gently dried,
+      As she gave me all the halfpence that she had: (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    And through the world e’er since I have wandered far and wide,
+      And been gradually going to the bad! (_Tum_-tum!)
+    Many a folly, many a crime I’ve committed in my time,
+      For a lawless and a chequered life I’ve led! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_.)
+    Still I’ve kept the promise sworn--flannel next my skin I’ve worn,
+      And I’ve always burnt a night-light by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Refrain._
+
+                All unhallowed my pursuits,
+                (Oft to bed I’ve been in boots!)
+    Still o’er my uneasy slumber has been shed (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+                The moderately bright light
+                Afforded by a night-light,
+          In a saucerful of water by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Third Verse._ (_To be sung with increasing solemnity._)
+
+    A little while ago, in a dream my aunt I saw;
+      In her frill-surrounded night-cap there she stood!
+       (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    And I sought to hide my head ’neath the counterpane in awe,
+      And I trembled--for my conscience isn’t good! (_Tum_-tum!)
+    But her countenance was mild--so indulgently she smiled
+      That I knew there was no further need for dread!
+       (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    She had seen the flannel vest enveloping my chest,
+      And the night-light in its saucer by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Refrain_ (_more pianissimo still._)
+
+                But ere a word she spoke,
+                I unhappily awoke!
+    And away, alas! the beauteous vision fled! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    (_In mournful recitation_)--There was nothing but the slight light
+                Of the melancholy night-light
+        That was burning in a saucer by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR.]
+
+XIII.--THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR.
+
+
+To be a successful Military Impersonator, the principal requisite is a
+uniform, which may be purchased for a moderate sum, second-hand, in the
+neighbourhood of almost any barracks. Some slight acquaintance with the
+sword exercise and elementary drill is useful, though not absolutely
+essential. Furnished with these, together with a few commanding
+attitudes, and a song possessing a spirited, martial refrain, the
+Military Impersonator may be certain of an instant and striking success
+upon the Music-hall stage,--especially if he will condescend to avail
+himself of the ballad provided by _Mr. Punch_, as a vehicle for his
+peculiar talent. And--though we say it ourselves--it is a very nice
+ballad, to which Mr. McDougall himself would find it difficult to take
+exception. It is in three verses, too--the limit understood to be
+formally approved by the London County Council for such productions. It
+may be, indeed, that (save so far as the last verse illustrates the
+heroism of our troops in action--a heroism too real and too splendid to
+be rendered ridiculous, even by Military Impersonators), the song does
+_not_ convey a particularly accurate notion of the manner and pursuits
+of an officer in the Guards. But then no Music-hall ditty can ever be
+accepted as a quite infallible authority upon any social type it may
+undertake to depict--with the single exception, perhaps, of the Common
+(or Howling) Cad. So that any lack of actuality here will be rather a
+merit than a blemish in the eyes of an indulgent audience. Having said
+so much, we will proceed to our ballad, which is called,--
+
+
+IN THE GUARDS!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    I’m a Guardsman, and my manner is perhaps a bit “haw-haw;”
+    But when you’re in the Guards you’ve got to show _esprit de corps_.
+                                       [_Pronounce “a spreedy core.”_
+    We look such heavy swells, you see, we’re all aristo-cràts,
+    When on parade we stand arrayed in our ’eavy bearskin ’ats.
+
+_Chorus_ (_during which the Martial Star will march round the stage in
+military order._)
+
+        We’re all “’Ughies,” “Berties,” “Archies,”
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        Twisting silky long moustarches,
+                                 [_Suit the action to the word here._
+                            Bein’ Guards! Doncher know?
+        While our band is playing Marches,
+                            For the Guards! Doncher know?
+        And the ladies stop to gaze upon the Guards,
+                                                  Bing-_Bang_!
+
+     [_Here a member of the orchestra will oblige with the cymbals,
+     while the Vocalist performs a military salute, as he passes to_--
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    With duchesses I’m ’and in glove, with countesses I’m thick;
+    From all the nobs I get invites--they say I am “so _chic_!”
+                                                [_Pronounce “chick.”_
+    It often makes me laugh to read, whene’er I go off guard,
+    “Dear Bertie, come to my At Home!” on a coronetted card!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+        For we’re “Berties,” “’Ughies,” “Archies,”
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        With our silky long moustarches,
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        Where’s a regiment that marches
+                            Like the Guards? Doncher know?
+        All the darlings--bless ’em!--dote upon the Guards,
+                                                  Bing-_Bang_!
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+     [_Here comes the Singer’s great chance, and by merely taking a
+     little pains, he may make a tremendously effective thing out of
+     it. If he can manage to slip away between the verses, and
+     change his bearskin and scarlet coat for a solar topee and
+     kharkee tunic at the wings, it will produce an enormous amount
+     of enthusiasm, only he must not take_ more _than five minutes
+     over this alteration, or the audience--so curiously are British
+     audiences constituted--may grow impatient for his return._
+
+But hark! the trumpet sounds!... (_Here a member of the orchestra will
+oblige upon the trumpet._) What’s this? ... (_The Singer will take a
+folded paper from his breast and peruse it with attention._) We’re
+ordered to the front!
+     [_This should be shouted._
+
+    We’ll show the foe how “Carpet-Knights” can face the battle’s brunt!
+    They laugh at us as “Brummels”--but we’ll prove ourselves “Bay-yards!”
+
+     [_Now the Martial Star will draw his sword and unfasten his
+     revolver-case, taking up the exact pose in which he is
+     represented upon the posters outside._
+
+As you were!... Form Square!... Mark Time!... Slope Arms!...
+now--’Tention!... (_These military evolutions should all be gone through
+by the Artist._) Forward, Guards!
+     [_To be yelled through music._
+
+_Chorus._
+
+        Onward every ’ero marches,
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        All the “’Ughies,” “Berties,” “Archies,”
+                            Of the Guards! Doncher know?
+        They may twist their long moustarches,
+                            For they’re Guards! Doncher know?
+        Dandies? yes,--but dandy _lions_ are the Guards!
+                                                        Bing-_Bang_!
+
+     [_Red fire and smoke at wings, as curtain falls upon the
+     Military Impersonator in the act of changing to a new
+     attitude._
+
+
+
+
+    MODEL MUSIC HALL.
+
+    DRAMAS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER.]
+
+I.--THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER.
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+    _The Little Crossing-Sweeper_
+     By the unrivalled Variety Artist        Miss JENNY JINKS.
+
+    _The Duke of Dillwater_                  Mr. HENRY IRVING.
+      [_Specially engaged; Mr. Punch is sure that he will cheerfully
+          make some slight sacrifice for so good a cause, and he can
+          easily slip out and get back again between the Acts of “Henry
+          the 8th.”_
+
+    _A Policeman_                            Mr. RUTLAND BARRINGTON.
+      [_Engaged, at enormous expense, during the entire run of this
+          piece._
+
+    _A Butler_ (_his original part_)         Mr. ARTHUR CECIL.
+
+    _Foot-passengers_, _Flunkeys_, _Burglars_.--By the celebrated
+                    Knockabout Quick-change Troupe.
+
+
+     SCENE I.--_Exterior of the_ Duke’s _Mansion in Euston Square by
+     night. On the right, a realistic Moon (by kind permission of_
+     Professor HERKOMER) _is rising slowly behind a lamp-post. On
+     left centre, a practicable pillar-box, and crossing, with real
+     mud. Slow Music, as_ Miss JENNY JINKS _enters, in rags, with
+     broom. Various Characters cross the street, post letters, &c._;
+     Miss JINKS _follows them, begging piteously for a copper, which
+     is invariably refused, whereupon she assails them with choice
+     specimens of street sarcasm--which the Lady may be safely
+     trusted to improvise for herself_.
+
+  _Miss Jenny Jinks_ (_leaning despondently against pillar-box, on which a
+ray of limelight falls in the opposite direction to the Moon_).
+
+    Ah, this cruel London, so marble-’arted and vast,
+    Where all who try to act honest are condemned to fast!
+
+_Enter two_ Burglars, _cautiously_.
+
+  _First B._ (_to_ Miss J. J.)
+    We can put you up to a fake as will be worth your while,
+    For you seem a sharp, ’andy lad, and just our style!
+
+     [_They proceed to unfold a scheme to break into the Ducal
+     abode, and offer_ Miss J. _a share of the spoil, if she will
+     allow herself to be put through the pantry window_.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_proudly_). I tell yer I won’t ’ave nothink to do
+        with it, fur I ain’t been used
+    To sneak into the house of a Dook to whom I ’aven’t been introdooced!
+
+  _Second Burglar_ (_coarsely_). Stow that snivel, yer young
+        himp, we don’t want none of that bosh!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_with spirit_). You hold _your_ jaw--for, when you
+        opens yer mouth, there ain’t much o’ yer face left to wash!
+
+     [_The_ Burglars _retire, baffled, and muttering_. Miss J.
+     _leans against pillar-box again--but more irresolutely_.
+
+    I’ve arf a mind to run after ’em, I ’ave, and tell ’em I’m game
+        to stand in!...
+    But, ah,--didn’t my poor mother say as Burglary was a _Sin_!
+
+     [Duke _crosses stage in a hurry; as he pulls out his latchkey,
+     a threepenny-bit falls unregarded, except by the little_
+     Sweeper, _who pounces eagerly upon it_.
+
+    What’s this? A bit o’ good luck at last for a starvin’ orfin boy!
+    What shall I buy? _I_ know--I’ll have a cup of cawfy, and a
+        prime saveloy!
+    Ah,--_but it ain’t mine_--and ’ark ... that music up in the air!
+
+          [_A harp is heard in the flies._
+
+    Can it be mother a-playin’ on the ’arp to warn her boy to beware?
+    (_Awestruck._) There’s a angel voice that is sayin’ plain
+        (_solemnly_) “Him as prigs what isn’t his’n,
+    Is sure to be copped some day--and then--his time he will
+        do in prison!”
+
+     [_Goes resolutely to the door, and knocks--The_ Duke _throws
+     open the portals_.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ If yer please, Sir, was you aware as you’ve
+        dropped a thruppenny-bit?
+
+  _The Duke_ (_after examining the coin._) ’Tis the very piece I
+        have searched for everywhere! You rascal, you’ve _stolen it_!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_bitterly_). And _that’s_ ’ow a Dook rewards honesty
+        in _this_ world!
+
+        [_This line is sure of a round of applause._
+
+  _The Duke_ (_calling off_). Policeman, I give this lad in
+        charge for a shameless attempt to rob,
+
+_Enter_ Policeman.
+
+    Unless he confesses instantly who put him up to the job!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_earnestly_). I’ve told yer the bloomin’ truth,
+        I ’ave--or send I may die!
+    I’m on’y a Crossing-sweeper, Sir, but I’d scorn to tell yer a lie!
+    Give me a quarter of a hour--no more--just time to kneel down and
+     pray,
+    As I used to at mother’s knee long ago--then the Copper kin
+        lead me away.
+
+     [_Kneels in lime-light. The_ Policeman _turns away, and uses
+     his handkerchief violently; the_ Duke _rubs his eyes_.
+
+  _The Duke._ No, blow me if I can do it, for I feel my eyes are
+        all twitching!
+    (_With conviction._) If he’s good enough to kneel by his
+        mother’s side, he’s good enough to be in my kitching!
+
+     [Duke _dismisses_ Constable, _and, after disappearing into the
+     Mansion for a moment, returns with a neat Page’s livery, which
+     he presents to the little_ Crossing-sweeper.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_naïvely_). ’Ow much shall I ask for on this,
+        Sir? What! Yer don’t mean to say they’re for _me_!
+    Am I really to be a Page to one of England’s proud aristocra-cee?
+
+        [_Does some steps._
+
+
+    _Mechanical change to_ SCENE II.--_State Apartment at the_
+    Duke’s. _Magnificent furniture, gilding, chandeliers. Suits of
+    genuine old armour. Statuary (lent by British and Kensington
+    Museums)._
+
+_Enter_ Miss J., _with her face washed, and looking particularly plump
+in her Page’s livery. She wanders about stage_, _making any humorous
+comments that may occur to her on the armour and statuary. She might
+also play tricks on the Butler, and kiss the maids--all of which will
+serve to relieve the piece by delicate touches of comedy, and delight a
+discriminating audience._
+
+_Enter the_ Duke.
+
+    I hope, my lad, that we are making you comfortable here?    [_Kindly._
+
+  _Miss J. J._ Never was in such slap-up quarters in my life,
+        Sir, _I’ll_ stick to yer, no fear!
+
+     [_In the course of conversation the_ Duke _learns with
+     aristocratic surprise, that the_ Page’s _Mother was a Singer at
+     the Music Halls_.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ What, don’t know what a Music-’all’s like? and you a Dook!
+Well, you _are_ a jolly old juggins! ’Ere, you sit down on this gilded
+cheer--that’s the ticket--I’ll bring you your champagne and your
+cigars--want a light? (_Strikes match on her pantaloons._) Now you’re
+all comfortable.
+
+_The_ Duke _sits down, smiling indulgently, out of her way, while she
+introduces her popular Vocal Character Sketch, of which space only
+permits us to give a few specimen verses_.
+
+        First the Champion Comic
+          Steps upon the stage;
+        With his latest “Grand Success.”
+          Sure to be the rage!
+        Sixty pounds a week he
+          Easily can earn;
+        Round the Music Halls he goes,
+          And does at each a “turn.”
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    Undah the stors in a sweet shady dairl,
+    I strolled with me awm round a deah little gairl,
+    And whethaw I kissed har yaw’d like me to tairl--
+                    Well, I’d rawthah you didn’t inquiah!
+
+              All golden her hair is,
+            She’s Queen of the Fairies,
+    And known by the name of the lovely Mariah,
+              She’s a regular Venus,
+            But what passed between us,
+    I’d very much rawthah you didn’t inquiah!
+
+        Next the Lady Serio,
+          Mincing as she walks;
+        If a note’s too high for her,
+          She doesn’t sing--she talks,
+        What she thinks about the men
+          You’re pretty sure to learn,
+        She always has a hit at them,
+          Before she’s done her “turn!”
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    You notty young men, ow! you notty young men!
+    You tell us you’re toffs, and the real Upper Ten,
+    But behind all your ears is the mark of a pen!
+    So don’t you deceive us, you notty young men!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_concluding_).
+             And such, Sir, are these entertainments grand,
+             In which Mirth and Refinement go ’and-in-’and!
+
+     [_As the_ Duke _is expressing his appreciation of the elevating
+     effect of such performances, the_ Butler _rushes in, followed
+     by two flurried_ Footmen.
+
+  _Butler._ Pardon this interruption, my Lord, but I come to
+        announce the fact
+          That by armed house-breakers the pantry has just been attacked!
+
+  _Duke._ Then we’ll repel them--each to his weapons look!
+        I know how to defend my property, although I _am_ a Dook!
+
+  _Miss J._ (_snatching sword from one of the men-in-armour_).
+          With such a weapon I their hash will settle!
+          _You’ll_ lend it, won’t yer, old Britannia Metal?
+
+     [_Shouts and firing without; the_ Footmen _hide under sofa_.
+
+    Let flunkeys flee--though danger may encircle us,
+    A British Buttons ain’t afeard of Burgulars!
+
+     [_Tremendous firing, during which the_ Burglars _are supposed
+     to be repulsed with heavy loss by the_ Duke, Butler, _and_
+     Page.
+
+  _Miss J._ ’Ere--I say, Dook, I saved yer life, didn’t yer _know_?
+
+(_A parting shot, upon which she staggers back with a ringing scream_.)
+
+          The Brutes! they’ve been and shot me!... Mother!... Oh!
+
+     [_Dies in lime-light and great agony; the_ Footmen _come out
+     from under sofa and regard with sorrowing admiration the
+     lifeless form of the_ Little Crossing-sweeper, _which the_
+     Duke, _as curtain falls, covers reverently with the best
+     table-cloth_.
+
+
+
+
+II.--JOE, THE JAM-EATER.
+
+_A MUSICAL SPECTACULAR AND SENSATIONAL INTERLUDE._
+
+(_Dedicated respectfully to Mr. McDougall and the L. C. C._)
+
+[Illustration: Joe!]
+
+
+The Music-hall Dramatist, like Shakspeare and Molière, has a right to
+take his material from any source that may seem good to him. _Mr.
+Punch_, therefore, makes no secret of the fact, that he has based the
+following piece upon the well-known poem of “The Purloiner,” by the
+Sisters Jane and Ann Taylor, who were _not_, as might be too hastily
+concluded, “Song and Dance Duettists,” but two estimable ladies, who
+composed “cautionary” verses for the young, and whose works are a
+perfect mine of wealth for Moral Dramatists. In this dramatic version
+the Author has tried to infuse something of the old Greek sense of an
+overruling destiny, without detriment to prevailing ideas of moral
+responsibility. Those who have the misfortune to be born with a
+propensity for illicit jam, may learn from our Drama the terrible
+results of failing to overcome it early in life.
+
+
+JOE, THE JAM-EATER.
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+    _Jam-Loving Joe._ By that renowned Melodramatic Serio-Comic,
+    Miss CONNIE CURDLER.
+
+    _Joe’s Mother_ (_the very part for Mrs. BANCROFT if she can
+    only be induced to make her reappearance_).
+
+    _John, a Gardener._ By the great Pink-eyed Unmusical Zulu.
+
+    _Jim-Jam, the Fermentation Fiend._ By Mr. BEERBOHM TREE (_who
+    has kindly consented to undertake the part_).
+
+    _Chorus of Plum and Pear Gatherers, from the Savoy_ (_by kind
+    permission of_ Mr. D’OYLY CARTE).
+
+
+    SCENE--_The Store-room at sunset with view of exterior of Jam
+    Cupboard, and orchard in distance._
+
+_Enter_ JOE.
+
+     “As Joe was at play, Near the cupboard one day, When he thought
+     no one saw but himself.”--_Vide Poem._
+
+  _Joe_ (_dreamily_.) ’Tis passing strange that I so partial am
+                  To playing in the neighbourhood of Jam!
+
+     [_HERE_ Miss CURDLER _will introduce her great humorous
+     Satirical Medley illustrative of the Sports of Childhood, and
+     entitled,_ “Some little Gymes we all of us ’ave Plied;” _after
+     which, Enter_ JOE’S _Mother, followed by JOHN and the Chorus,
+     with baskets, ladders, &c., for gathering fruit_.
+
+     “His Mother and John, To the garden had gone, To gather ripe
+     pears and ripe plums.”--_Poem._
+
+  _Joe’s Mother_ (_with forced cheerfulness_)--
+
+    Let’s hope, my friends, to find our pears and plums,
+    Unharmed by wopses, and untouched by wums.
+
+     [_Chorus signify assent in the usual manner by holding up the
+     right hand._
+
+  _Solo_--JOHN.
+
+    Fruit, when gathered ripe, is wholesome--
+      Otherwise if eaten green.
+    Once I know a boy who stole some--
+
+     [_With a glance at JOE, who turns aside to conceal his
+     confusion._
+
+      His internal pangs were keen!
+
+  _Chorus_ (_virtuously_). ’Tis the doom of all who’re mean,
+    Their internal pangs are keen!
+
+  _Joe’s Mother_ (_aside_). By what misgivings is a mother tortured!
+    I’ll keep my eye on Joseph in the orchard.
+
+        [_She invites him with a gesture to follow._
+
+  _Joe_ (_earnestly_). Nay, Mother, here I’ll stay till you have done.
+    Temptation it is ever best to shun!
+
+  _Joe’s M_. So laudable his wish, I would not cross it--
+    (_Mysteriously._) He knows not there are jam-pots in yon closet!
+
+  _Chorus._ Away we go tripping,
+            From boughs to be stripping
+            Each pear, plum, and pippin
+                Pomona supplies!
+            When homeward we’ve brought ’em,
+            Those products of Autumn,
+            We’ll carefully sort ’em
+                  (_One of our old Music-hall rhymes_),
+                According to size!    [_Repeat as they caper out._
+
+     [JOE’S Mother, _after one fond, lingering look behind, follows:
+     the voices are heard more and more faintly in the distance.
+     Stage darkens: the last ray of sunset illumines key of
+     jam-cupboard door._
+
+  _Joe._ At last I am alone! Suppose I tried
+         That cupboard--just to see what’s kept inside?
+
+             [_Seems drawn towards it by some fatal fascination._
+
+       There _might_ be Guava jelly, and a plummy cake,
+       For such a prize I’d laugh to scorn a stomach-ache!
+
+             [_Laughs a stomach-ache to scorn._
+
+       And yet (_hesitating_) who knows?--a pill ... perchance--a powder!
+       (_Desperately._) What then? To scorn I’ll laugh them--even louder!
+
+     [_Fetches chair and unlocks cupboard. Doors fall open with loud
+     clang, revealing Interior of Jam Closet (painted by_ HAWES
+     CRAVEN). JOE _mounts chair to explore shelves._
+
+     “How sorry I am, He ate raspberry jam, And currants that stood
+     on the shelf!”--_Vide Poem._
+
+  _Joe_ (_speaking with mouth full and back to audience_).
+    ’Tis raspberry--of all the jams my favourite;
+    I’ll clear the pot, whate’er I have to pay for it!
+    And finish up with currants from this shelf ...
+    Who’ll ever see me?
+
+  _The_ Demon _of the Jam Closet (rising slowly from an immense
+  pot of preserves_).    No one--but Myself!
+
+     [_The cupboard is lit up by an infernal glare (courteously lent
+     by the Lyceum Management from “Faust” properties); weird
+     music_; JOE _turns slowly and confronts the_ Demon _with
+     awestruck eyes._ N.B.--_Great opportunity for powerful acting
+     here._
+
+  _The Demon (with a bland sneer_). Pray don’t mind _me_--I
+        will await your leisure.
+
+  _Joe_ (_automatically_). Of your acquaintance, Sir, I’ve not
+        the pleasure.
+      Who are you? Wherefore have you intervened?
+
+  _The Demon_ (_quietly_). My name is “Jim-Jam;” occupation--fiend.
+
+  _Joe,_ (_cowering limply on his chair_). O Mr. Fiend, I
+          _know_ it’s very wrong of me!
+
+  _Demon_ (_politely_). Don’t mention it--but please to come “along of” me?
+
+  _Joe_ (_imploringly_). Do let me off this once,--ha! you’re relenting,
+        You smile----
+
+  _Demon_ (_grimly_). ’Tis nothing but my jam fermenting!
+
+          [_Catches_ JOE’s _ankle, and assists him to descend._
+
+  _Joe_. You’ll drive me mad!
+
+  _Demon_ (_carelessly_).    I _may_--before I’ve done with you!
+
+  _Joe_. What do you want?
+
+  _Demon_ (_darkly_).   To have a little fun with you!
+      Of fiendish humour now I’ll give a specimen.
+
+     [_Chases him round and round stage, and proceeds to smear him
+     hideously with jam._
+
+  _Joe_ (_piteously_). Oh, don’t! I feel _so_ sticky. _What_ a mess I’m in!
+
+  _Demon_ (_with affected sympathy_).    That _is_ the worst of
+          jam--it’s apt to stain you.
+
+     [_To_ JOE, _as he frantically endeavours to remove the traces
+     of his crime._
+
+    I see you’re busy--so I’ll not detain you!
+
+     [_Vanishes down star-trap with a diabolical laugh.
+     Cupboard-doors close with a clang; all lights down._ JOE
+     _stands gazing blankly for some moments, and then drags himself
+     off stage. His Mother and_ JOHN, _with Pear-and-Plum-gatherers
+     bearing laden baskets, appear at doors at back of Scene, in
+     faint light of torches._
+
+[Illustration: The Demon!]
+
+_Re-enter_ JOE _bearing a candle and wringing his hands._
+
+  _Joe._ Out, jammed spot! What--will these hands _never_ be clean? Here’s
+the smell of the raspberry jam still! All the powders of Gregory cannot
+unsweeten this little hand ... (_Moaning._) Oh, oh, oh!
+
+     [_This passage has been accused of bearing too close a
+     resemblance to one in a popular Stage Play; if so, the
+     coincidence is purely accidental, as the Dramatist is not in
+     the habit of reading such profane literature._
+
+  _Joe’s Mother._ Ah! what an icy dread my heart benumbs!
+      See--stains on all his fingers, and his thumbs!
+
+     “What Joe was about, His mother found out, When she look’d at
+     his fingers and thumbs.”--_Poem again._
+
+Nay, Joseph--’tis your mother ... speak to her!
+
+  _Joe_ (_tonelessly, as before_). Lady, I know you not (_touches lower
+part of waistcoat_); but, prithee, undo this button. I think I have jam
+in all my veins, and I would fain sleep. When I am gone, lay me in a
+plain white jelly-pot, with a parchment cover, and on the label
+write--but come nearer, I have a secret for your ear alone ... there are
+strange things in _some_ cupboards! Demons should keep in the dust-bin.
+(_With a ghastly smile._) I know not what ails me, but I am not feeling
+at all well.
+
+     [JOE’S Mother _stands a few steps from him, with her hands
+     twisted in her hair, and stares at him in speechless terror._
+
+  _Joe_ (_to the Chorus_). I would shake hands with you all, were not my
+fingers so sticky. We eat marmalade, but we know not what it is made of.
+Hush! if Jim-Jam comes again, tell him that I am not at home.
+Loo-loo-loo!
+
+  _All_ (_with conviction_). Some shock has turned his brine!
+
+  _Joe_ (_sitting down on floor, and weaving straws in his hair._) My
+curse upon him that invented jam. Let us all play Tibbits.
+
+     [_Laughs vacantly; all gather round him, shaking their heads,
+     his_ Mother _falls fainting at his feet as curtain falls upon a
+     strong and moral, though undeniably gloomy dénoûment._
+
+
+
+
+III.--THE MAN-TRAP.
+
+
+This Drama, which, like our last, has been suggested by a poem of the
+Misses Taylor, will be found most striking and impressive in
+representation upon the Music-hall stage. The dramatist has ventured to
+depart somewhat from the letter, though not the spirit, of the original
+text, in his desire to enforce the moral to the fullest possible extent.
+Our present piece is intended to teach the great lesson that an
+inevitable Nemesis attends apple-stealing in this world, and that Doom
+cannot be disarmed by the intercession of the evil-doer’s friends,
+however well-meaning.
+
+
+THE MAN-TRAP!
+
+_A THRILLING MORAL MUSICAL SENSATION SKETCH IN ONE SCENE._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+    _William_ (_a Good Boy_)                       Mr. HARRY NICHOLLS.
+    _Thomas_ (_a Bad Boy_)                         Mr. HERBERT CAMPBELL.
+             (_Who have kindly offered their services._)
+    _Benjamin_ (_neither one thing nor the other_) Mr. SAMUEL SUPER.
+    _The Monster Man-Trap_                         Mr. GEORGE CONQUEST.
+
+
+     SCENE.--_An elaborate set, representing, on extreme left, a
+     portion of the high road, and wall dividing it from an orchard;
+     realistic apple- and pear-trees laden with fruit. Time, about
+     four o’clock on a hot afternoon. Enter_ WILLIAM _and_ THOMAS,
+     _hand-in-hand, along road; they ignore the dividing wall, and
+     advance to front of stage._
+
+_Duet._--WILLIAM _and_ THOMAS.
+
+  _Wm._ I’m a reg’lar model boy, I am; so please make no mistake.
+          It’s Thomas who’s the bad ’un--_I’m_ the good!
+
+  _Thos._ Yes, I delight in naughtiness for naughtiness’s sake,
+            And I wouldn’t be like William if I could!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+  _Wm._ Ever since I could toddle, my conduct’s been model,
+          There’s, oh, such a difference between me and him!
+
+  _Thos._ While still in the cradle, I orders obeyed ill,
+            And now I’ve grown into a awful young limb!
+
+                       { he’s }
+  _Together._ Yes, now { I’ve } grown into a awful young limb.
+           I’ve made up my mind not to imitate _him_!
+
+        [_Here they dance._
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ If someone hits him in the eye, he always hits them back!
+          When _I_ am struck, my Ma I merely tell!
+        On passing fat pigs in a lane, he’ll give ’em each a whack!
+
+  _Thos._ (_impenitently_). And jolly fun it is to hear ’em yell!
+
+        [_Chorus._
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ He’s always cribbing coppers--which he spends on lollipops.
+
+  _Thos._   (A share of which _you_’ve never yet refused!)
+
+  _Wm._ A stone he’ll shy at frogs and toads, and anything that hops!
+
+  _Thos._   (While you look on, and seem to be amused!)
+
+        [_Chorus._
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ As soon as school is over, Thomas goes a hunting squirr’ls,
+          Or butterflies he’ll capture in his hat!
+
+  _Thos._ _You_ play at Kissing in the Ring with all the little girls!
+
+  _Wm._ (_demurely_). Well, Thomas, I can see no harm in _that_!
+
+        [_Chorus._
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ Ah, Thomas, if you don’t reform, you’ll come to some bad end!
+
+  _Thos._   Oh, William, put your head inside a bag!
+
+  _Wm._ No, Thomas, that I cannot--till you promise to amend!
+
+  _Thos._   Why, William, what a chap you are to nag!
+
+     [_Chorus and dance._ THOMAS _returns to road, and regards the
+     apple-trees longingly over top of wall._
+
+  _Thos._ Hi, William, look ... what apples! there--don’t _you_ see?
+          And pears--my eye! just _ain’t_ they looking juicy!
+
+  _Wm._   Nay, Thomas, since you’re bent upon a sin,
+          _I_ will walk on, and visit Benjamin!
+
+     [_Exit_ WILLIAM (L. 2 E.), _while THOMAS proceeds to scale the
+     wall and climb the boughs of the nearest pear-tree.
+     Melodramatic Music._ The Monster Man-trap _stealthily emerges
+     from long grass below, and fixes a baleful eye on the
+     unconscious_ THOMAS.
+
+  _Thos._ I’ll fill my pockets, and on pears I’ll feast!
+
+            [_Sees_ Man-trap, _and staggers._
+
+          Oh, lor--whatever is that hugly beast!
+          Hi, help, here! call him off!...
+
+  _The Monster._         ’Tis vain to holler--
+          My horders are--all trespassers to swoller!
+          You just come down--I’m waiting ’ere to ketch you.
+      (_Indignantly._) You _don’t_ expect I’m coming up to fetch you!
+
+  _Thos._ (_politely._) Oh, not if it would inconvenience _you_, Sir!
+      (_In agonised aside._) I feel my grip grow every moment looser!
+
+     [_The_ Monster, _in a slow, uncouth manner, proceeds to
+     scramble up the tree._
+
+          Oh, here’s a go! The horrid thing can _climb_!
+          Too late I do repent me of my crime!
+
+     [_Terrific sensation chase!_ The Monster Man-trap _leaps from
+     bough to bough with horrible agility, and eventually secures
+     his prey, and leaps with it to the ground._
+
+  _Thos._ (_in the_ Monster’s _jaws_). I’m sure you seem a kind,
+          good-natured creature--
+      You will not harm me?
+
+  _Monster._          No--I’ll only eat yer!
+
+     [THOMAS _slowly vanishes down its cavernous jaws; faint yells
+     are heard at intervals--then nothing but a dull champing sound;
+     after which, dead silence. The_ Monster _smiles, with an air of
+     repletion._
+
+_Re-enter_ WILLIAM, _from_ R., _with_ BENJAMIN.
+
+  _Benjamin._ I’m very glad you came--but where is Thomas?
+
+  _Wm._ (_severely_). Tom is a wicked boy, and better from us,
+      For on the road he stopped to scale a wall!...
+
+         [_Sees_ Man-trap, _and starts._
+
+      What’s _that_?
+
+  _Benj._       It will not hurt _good_ boys at all--
+        It’s only Father’s Man-trap--why so pale?
+
+  _Wm._ The self-same tree! ... the wall that Tom _would_ scale!
+          Where’s Thomas _now_? Ah, Tom, the wilful pride of you.
+
+        [_The_ Man-trap _affects an elaborate unconsciousness._
+
+[Illustration: Up a Tree!]
+
+  _Benj._ (_with sudden enlightenment_). Man-trap, I do believe
+          poor Tom’s inside of you!
+        That sort of smile’s exceedingly suspicious.
+
+        [_The_ Man-trap _endeavours to hide in the grass._
+
+  _Wm._ Ah, Monster, give him back--’tis true he’s vicious,
+        And had no business to go making free with you!
+        But think, so bad a boy will disagree with you!
+
+     [WILLIAM _and_ BENJAMIN _kneel in attitudes of entreaty on
+     either side of the_ Man-trap, _which shows signs of increasing
+     emotion as the song proceeds._
+
+  _Benjamin_ (_sings_).
+
+      Man-trap, bitter our distress is
+        That you have unkindly penned
+      In your innermost recesses
+        One who used to be our friend!
+
+  _William_ (_sings_).
+
+      In his downward course arrest him!
+        (He may take a virtuous tack);
+      Pause awhile, ere you digest him,
+        Make an effort--bring him back!
+
+     [_The_ Man-trap _is convulsed by a violent heave_; WILLIAM and
+     BENJAMIN _bend forward in an agony of expectation, until a
+     small shoe and the leg of_ THOMAS’S _pantaloons are finally
+     emitted from the_ Monster’s _jaws._
+
+  _Benj._ (_exultantly_). See, William, now he’s coming ... here’s
+          his shoe for you!
+
+  _The Man-trap_ (_with an accent of genuine regret). I’m sorry--but
+          that’s all that I can do for you!_
+
+  _Wm._ (_raising the shoe and the leg of pantaloons, and holding
+      them sorrowfully at arm’s length_).
+      He’s met the fate which moralists all promise is
+      The end of such depraved careers as Thomas’s!
+      Oh, Benjamin, take warning by it _be_-time!
+      (_More brightly_). But now to wash our hands--’tis nearly tea-time!
+
+     [_Exeunt_ WILLIAM and BENJAMIN, _to wash their hands, as
+     Curtain falls. N.B. This finale is more truly artistic, and in
+     accordance with modern dramatic ideas, than the conventional
+     “picture.”_
+
+
+
+
+IV.--THE FATAL PIN.
+
+
+Our present example is pure tragedy of the most ambitious kind, and is,
+perhaps, a little in advance of the taste of a Music-hall audience of
+the present day. When the fusion between the Theatres and the Music
+Halls is complete--when Miss Bessie Bellwood sings “_What Cheer, ’Ria?_”
+at the Lyceum, and Mr. Henry Irving gives his compressed version of
+_Hamlet_ at the Trocadero; when there is a general levelling-up of
+culture, and removal of prejudice--then, and not till then, will this
+powerful little play meet with the appreciation which is its due. The
+main idea is suggested by the Misses Taylor’s well-known poem, _The
+Pin_, though the dramatist has gone further than the poetess in working
+out the notion of Nemesis.
+
+
+THE FATAL PIN.
+
+_A TRAGEDY._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+    _Emily Heedless._ By either Miss VESTA TILLEY or Mrs. BERNARD BEERE.
+
+    _Peter Paragon._ Mr. FORBES ROBERTSON or Mr. ARTHUR ROBERTS
+        (only he mustn’t sing “_The Good Young Man who Died_”).
+
+    _First and Second Bridesmaids._ Miss MAUDE MILLETT and Miss
+    ANNIE HUGHES.
+
+
+     SCENE.--EMILY’S _Boudoir, sumptuously furnished with a screen
+     and sofa,_ C. _Door_, R., _leading to_ EMILY’S _Bed-chamber.
+     Door,_ L. EMILY _discovered in loose wrapper, and reclining in
+     uncomfortable position on sofa._
+
+  _Emily_ (_dreamily_). This day do I become the envied bride
+    Of Peter, justly surnamed Paragon;
+    And much I wonder what in me he found
+    (He, who Perfection so personifies)
+    That he could condescend an eye to cast
+    On faulty feather-headed Emily!
+    How solemn is the stillness all around me!
+
+        [_A loud bang is heard behind screen._
+
+    Methought I heard the dropping of a pin!--
+    Perhaps I should arise and search for it....
+    Yet why, on second thoughts, disturb myself,
+    Since I am, by my settlements, to have
+    A handsome sum allowed for pin-money?
+    Nay, since thou claim’st thy freedom, little pin,
+    I lack the heart to keep thee prisoner.
+    Go, then, and join the great majority
+    Of fallen, vagrant, unregarded pinhood--
+    My bliss is too supreme at such an hour
+    To heed such infidelities as thine.
+
+        [_Falls into a happy reverie._
+
+_Enter_ First and Second Bridesmaids.
+
+  _First and Second Bridesmaids._ What, how now, Emily--not yet attired?
+    Nay, haste, for Peter will be here anon!
+
+     [_They hurry her off by_ R. _door, just as_ PETER PARAGON
+     _enters_ L. _in bridal array. N.B.--The exigencies of the Drama
+     are responsible for his making his appearance here, instead of
+     waiting, as is more usual, at the church._
+
+  _Peter_ (_meditatively_). The golden sands of my celibacy
+    Are running low--soon falls the final grain!
+    Yet, even now, the glass I would not turn.
+    My Emily is not without her faults
+    “_Was_ not without them,” I should rather say,
+    For during ten idyllic years of courtship,
+
+[Illustration: “It is a Pin!”]
+
+    By precept and example I have striven
+    To mould her to a helpmate fit for me.
+    Now, thank the Gods, my labours are complete.
+    She stands redeemed from all her giddiness!
+
+        [_Here he steps upon the pin, and utters an exclamation._
+
+    Ha! What is this? I’m wounded ... agony!
+    With what a darting pain my foot’s transfixed!
+    I’ll summon help (_with calm courage_)--yet, stay, I would not dim
+    This nuptial day by any sombre cloud.
+    I’ll bear this stroke alone--and now to probe
+    The full extent of my calamity.
+
+     [_Seats himself on sofa in such a position as to be concealed
+     by the screen from all but the audience, and proceeds to remove
+     his boot._
+
+    Ye powers of Perfidy, it is a pin!
+    I must know more of this--for it is meet
+    Such criminal neglect should be exposed.
+    Severe shall be that house-maid’s punishment
+    Who’s proved to be responsible for this!--
+    But soft, I hear a step.
+
+     [_Enter_ First _and_ Second Bridesmaids, _who hunt diligently
+     upon the carpet without observing_ Peter’s _presence._
+
+  _Emily’s Voice_ (_within_). Oh, search, I pray you.
+    It _must_ be there--my own ears heard it fall!
+
+        [PETER _betrays growing uneasiness._
+
+  _The Bridesmaids._ Indeed, we fail to see it anywhere!
+
+  _Emily_ (_entering distractedly in bridal costume, with a large rent in
+her train_).
+
+    You have no eyes, I tell you, let me help.
+    It must be found, or I am all undone!
+    In vain my cushion I have cut in two
+    ’Twas void of all but stuffing ... Gracious Heavens,
+    To think that all my future bliss depends
+    On the evasive malice of a pin!
+
+        [PETER _behind screen, starts violently._
+
+  _Peter_ (_aside_). A pin! what dire misgivings wring my heart!
+
+     [Hops forward with a cold dignity, holding one foot in his
+     hand.
+
+    You seem in some excitement, Emily?
+
+  _Emily_ (_wildly_). _You_, Peter!... tell me--have you found a pin?
+
+  _Peter_ (_with deadly calm_). Unhappy girl--I _have_!
+          (_To_ Bridesmaids.) Withdraw awhile,
+      And should we need you, we will summon you.
+
+     [_Exeunt_ Bridesmaids; EMILY _and_ PETER _stand facing each
+     other for some moments in dead silence._
+
+    The pin is found--for I have trodden on it,
+    And may, for aught I know, be lamed for life.
+    Speak, Emily, what is that maid’s desert
+    Whose carelessness has led to this mishap?
+
+  _Emily_ (_in the desperate hope of shielding herself_).
+    Why, should the fault he traced to any maid,
+    Instant dismissal shall be her reward,
+    With a month’s wages paid in lieu of notice!
+
+  _Peter_ (_with a passionless severity_).
+    From your own lips I judge you, Emily.
+    Did they not own just now that you had heard
+    The falling of a pin--yet heeded not?
+    Behold the outcome of your negligence!
+
+        [_Extends his injured foot._
+
+  _Emily_.   Oh, let me kiss the place and make it well!
+
+  _Peter_ (_coldly withdrawing foot_).   Keep your caresses till
+        I ask for them.
+    My wound goes deeper than you wot of yet,
+    And by that disregarded pin is pricked
+    The iridescent bubble of Illusion!
+
+  _Emily_ (_slowly_). Indeed, I do not wholly comprehend.
+
+  _Peter._ Have patience and I will be plainer yet.
+    Mine is a complex nature, Emily;
+    Magnanimous, but still methodical.
+    An injury I freely can forgive,
+    Forget it (_striking his chest_), never! She who leaves about
+    Pins on the floor to pierce a lover’s foot,
+    Will surely plant a thorn within the side
+    Of him whose fate it is to be her husband!
+
+  _Emily_ (_dragging herself towards him on her knees_).
+    Have pity on me, Peter; I was mad!
+
+  _Peter_ (_with emotion_). How can I choose but pity thee, poor soul,
+    Who, for the sake of temporary ease,
+    Hast forfeited the bliss that had been thine!
+    You could not stoop to pick a pin up. Why?
+    Because, forsooth, ’twas but a paltry pin!
+    Yet, duly husbanded, that self-same pin
+    Had served you to secure your gaping train,
+    Your self-respect--and Me.
+
+  _Emily_ (_wailing_). What have I done?
+
+  _Peter_. I will not now reproach you, Emily,
+    Nor would I dwell upon my wounded sole,
+    The pain of which increases momently.
+    I part from you in friendship, and in proof,
+    That fated instrument I leave with you
+
+     [_Presenting her with the pin, which she accepts mechanically._
+
+    Which the frail link between us twain has severed.
+    I can dispense with it, for in my cuff
+
+     [_Shows her his coat-cuff, in which a row of pins’-heads is
+     perceptible._
+
+    I carry others ’gainst a time of need.
+    My poor success in life I trace to this
+    That never yet I passed a pin unheeded.
+
+  _Emily._ And is that all you have to say to me?
+
+  _Peter._ I think so--save that I shall wish you well,
+    And pray that henceforth you may bear in mind
+    What vast importance lies in seeming trifles.
+
+  _Emily_ (_with a pale smile_). Peter, your lesson is already learned,
+    For precious has this pin become for me,
+    Since by its aid I gain oblivion--thus!    [_Stabs herself._
+
+  _Peter_ (_coldly._) Nay, these are histrionics, Emily.
+
+        [_Assists her to sofa._
+
+  _Emily._ I’d skill enough to find a vital spot.
+    Do not withdraw it yet--my time is short,
+    And I have much to say before I die.
+    (_Faintly._) Be gentle with my rabbits when I’m gone;
+    Give my canary chickweed now and then.
+    ... I think there is no more--ah, one last word--
+    (_Earnestly_)--Warn them they must not cut our wedding-cake,
+    And then the pastrycook may take it back!
+
+  _Peter_ (_deeply moved_). Would you had shown this
+        thoughtfulness before!    [_Kneels by the sofa._
+
+  _Emily._ ’Tis now too late, and clearly do I see
+    That I was never worthy of you, Peter.
+
+  _Peter_ (_gently_). ’Tis not for me to contradict you now.
+    You did your best to be so, Emily!
+
+  _Emily._ A blessing on you for those generous words!
+    Now tell me, Peter, how is your poor foot?
+
+  _Peter._ The agony decidedly abates,
+    And I can almost bear a boot again.
+
+  _Emily._ Then I die happy!... Kiss me, Peter ... ah!
+
+        [_Dies_.
+
+  _Peter._ In peace she passed away. I’m glad of that,
+    Although that peace was purchased by a lie.
+    I shall not bear a boot for many days!
+    Thus ends our wedding morn, and she, poor child,
+    Has paid the penalty of heedlessness!
+
+     [_Curtain falls, whereupon, unless Mr. Punch is greatly
+     mistaken, there will not be a dry eye in the house._
+
+
+
+
+V.--BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE.
+
+_A MELODRAMATIC DIDACTIC VAUDEVILLE._
+
+_Suggested by “The Wooden Doll and the Wax Doll,” by the Misses Jane and
+Ann Taylor._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+    _Blanchidine,_ } By the celebrated Sisters STILTON, the Champion
+    _Brunette._    }      Duettists and Clog-Dancers.
+
+    _Fanny Furbelow._ By Miss SYLVIA SEALSKIN (_by kind permission of
+                             the Gaiety Management_).
+
+    _Frank Manly._ By Mr. HENRY NEVILLE.
+
+
+    SCENE--_A sunny Glade in Kensington Gardens, between the
+    Serpentine and Round Pond._
+
+_Enter_ BLANCHIDINE _and_ BRUNETTE, _with their arms thrown
+affectionately around one another._ BLANCHIDINE _is carrying a large and
+expressionless wooden doll._
+
+_Duet and Step-dance._
+
+  _Bl._ Oh, I do adore BRUNETTE! (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity,
+    tappity-tippity, tippity-tappity, tip-tap!
+
+  _Br._ BLANCHIDINE’S the sweetest pet! (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.
+
+  _Together._        When the sun is high,
+                     We come out to ply,
+                     Nobody is nigh,
+                     All is mirth and j’y!
+                     With a pairosol,
+                     We’ll protect our doll,
+                     Make a mossy bed
+                     For her wooden head!
+
+     [_Combination step-dance during which both watch their feet
+     with an air of detached and slightly amused interest, as if
+     they belonged to some other persons._
+
+    Clickity-clack, clickity-clack, clickity, clickity, clickity-clack;
+    clackity-clickity, clickity-clackity, clackity-clickity-_clack_!
+
+        [_Repeat ad. lib._
+
+  _Bl._ (_apologetically to Audience_). Her taste in dress is rather plain!
+        (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.
+
+  _Br._ (_in pitying aside_). It _is_ a pity she’s so vain!
+        (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.
+
+  _Bl._              ’Tis a shime to smoile,
+                     But she’s shocking stoyle,
+                     It is quite a troyal,
+                     Still--she mikes a foil!
+
+  _Br._              Often I’ve a job
+                     To suppress a sob,
+                     She is such a snob,
+                     When she meets a nob!
+
+        [_Step-dance as before._
+
+     [N.B.--_In consideration of the well-known difficulty that most
+     popular Variety-Artists experience in the metrical delivery of
+     decasyllabic couplets, the lines which follow have been written
+     as they will most probably be spoken._
+
+  _Bl._ (_looking off with alarm_). Why, here comes Fanny
+        Furbelow, a new frock from Paris in!
+    She’ll find me with Brunette--it’s _too_ embarrassing!
+
+        [_Aside._
+
+    (_To Brunette._) Brunette, my love, I know _such_ a pretty
+        game we’ll play at--
+    Poor Timburina’s ill, and the seaside she ought to stay at.
+    (The Serpentine’s the seaside, let’s pretend.)
+    And _you_ shall take her there--(_hypocritically_)--you’re
+        such a friend!
+
+  _Br._ (_with simplicity_). Oh, yes, that _will_ be splendid,
+Blanchidine, And then we can go and have a dip in a bathing-machine!
+
+     [BLAN. _resigns the wooden doll to_ BRUN., _who skips off with
+     it_, L., _as_ FANNY FURBELOW _enters_ R., _carrying a
+     magnificent wax doll_.
+
+  _Fanny_ (_languidly_). Ah, howdy do--_isn’t_ this heat too
+    frightful? And so you’re quite alone?
+
+  _Bl._ (_nervously._) Oh, _quite_--oh yes, I always am alone,
+    when there’s nobody with me.
+
+     [_This is a little specimen of the Lady’s humorous “gag,” at
+     which she is justly considered a proficient._
+
+  _Fanny_ (_drawling_).      Delightful!
+    When I was wondering, only a little while ago,
+    If I should meet a creature that I know;
+    Allow me--my new doll, the Lady Minnie!
+
+        [_Introducing doll._
+
+  _Bl._ (_rapturously_). Oh, what a perfect love!
+
+  _Fanny._                  She ought to be--for a guinea!
+    Here, you may nurse her for a little while.
+    Be careful, for her frock’s the latest style.
+
+        [_Gives_ BLAN. _the wax doll_.
+
+    She’s the best wax, and has three changes of clothing--
+    For those cheap wooden dolls I’ve quite a loathing.
+
+  _Bl._ (_hastily_). Oh, so have _I_--they’re not to be endured!
+
+_Re-enter_ BRUNETTE _with the wooden doll, which she tries to press
+upon_ BLANCHIDINE, _much to the latter’s confusion_.
+
+  _Br._ I’ve brought poor Timburina back, completely cured!
+    Why, aren’t you pleased? Your face is looking _so_ cloudy!
+
+  _F._ (_haughtily_). Is she a friend of _yours_--this little
+        dowdy?    [_Slow music._
+
+  _Bl._ (_after an internal struggle_). Oh, no, what an idea!
+    Why, I don’t even know her by name!
+    Some vulgar child ...
+
+        [_Lets the wax doll fall unregarded on the gravel._
+
+  _Br._ (_indignantly_). Oh, what a horrid shame!
+    I see _now_ why you sent us to the Serpentine!
+
+  _Bl._ (_heartlessly_). There’s no occasion to flare up like turpentine.
+
+  _Br._ (_ungrammatically_). I’m _not_! Disown your doll, and
+        thrust me, too, aside!
+    The one thing left for both of us is--suicide!
+    Yes, Timburina, us no more she cherishes--
+    (_Bitterly._) Well, the Round Pond a handy place to perish is!
+
+        [_Rushes off stage with wooden doll._
+
+  _Bl._ (_making a feeble attempt to follow_). Come back,
+    Brunette; don’t leave me thus, in charity!
+
+  _F._ (_with contempt_). Well, I’ll be off--since you seem to
+        prefer vulgarity.
+
+  _Bl._ No, stay--but--ah, she said--what if she _meant_ it?
+
+  _F._ Not she! And, if she did, _we_ can’t prevent it.
+
+  _Bl._ (_relieved_). That’s true--we’ll play, and think no more about
+   her.
+
+  _F._ (_sarcastically_). We may _just_ manage to get on without her!
+    So come----(_Perceives doll lying face upwards on path._)
+    You odious girl, what have you done?
+    Left Lady Minnie lying in the blazing sun!
+    ’Twas done on purpose--oh, you _thing_ perfidious!    [_Stamps._
+    You _knew_ she’d melt, and get completely hideous!
+    Don’t answer _me_, Miss--I wish we’d never met.
+    You’re only fit for persons like Brunette!
+
+        [_Picks up doll, and exit in passion._
+
+_Grand Sensation Descriptive Soliloquy, by_ BLANCHIDINE, _to
+Melodramatic Music_.
+
+  _Bl._ Gone! Ah, I am rightly punished! What would I not give now to
+have homely little Brunette, and dear old wooden-headed Timburina back
+again! _She_ wouldn’t melt in the sun.... Where are they now? Great
+Heavens! that threat--that rash resolve ... I remember all! ’Twas in
+the direction of the Pond they vanished. (_Peeping anxiously between
+trees._) Are they still in sight? ... Yes, I see them? Brunette has
+reached the water’s edge ... What is she purposing! Now she kneels on
+the rough gravel; she is making Timburina kneel too! How calm and
+resolute they both appear! (_Shuddering._) I dare not look further--but
+ah, I must--_I must_!... Horror! I saw her boots flash for an instant in
+the bright sunlight: and now the ripples have closed, smiling, over her
+little black stockings!... Help!--save her, somebody!--help!... Joy! a
+gentleman has appeared on the scene--how handsome, how brave he looks!
+He has taken in the situation at a glance! With quiet composure he
+removes his coat--oh, _don’t_ trouble about folding it up!--and why,
+_why_ remove your gloves, when there is not a moment to be lost? Now,
+with many injunctions, he entrusts his watch to a bystander, who
+retires, overcome by emotion. And now--oh, gallant, heroic soul!--now he
+is sending his toy-terrier into the seething water! (_Straining_
+_eagerly forward._) Ah, the dog paddles bravely out--he has reached the
+spot ... oh, he has passed it!--he is trying to catch a duck! Dog, dog,
+_is_ this a time for pursuing ducks? At last he understands--he dives
+... he brings up--agony! a small tin cup! Again ... _this_ time,
+surely--what, only an old pot-hat!... Oh, this dog is a fool! And still
+the Round Pond holds its dread secret! Once more ... yes--no, yes, it
+_is_ Timburina! Thank Heaven, she yet breathes! But Brunette?
+Can she have stuck in the mud at the bottom? Ha, she, too, is
+rescued--saved--ha-ha-ha!--saved, saved, saved!
+
+        [_Swoons hysterically amid deafening applause._
+
+[Illustration: “Saved--ha-ha-ha!”]
+
+  _Enter_ FRANK MANLY _supporting_ BRUNETTE, _who carries_ TIMBURINA.
+
+  _Bl._ (_wildly_). What, do I see you safe, beloved Brunette?
+
+  _Br._ Yes, thanks to his courage, I’m not even _wet_!
+
+  _Frank_ (_modestly_). Nay, spare your compliments. To rescue Beauty,
+    When in distress, is every hero’s duty!
+
+  _Bl._ Brunette, forgive--I’m cured of all my folly!
+
+  _Br._ (_heartily_). Of course I will, my dear, and so will dolly!
+
+     [_Grand Trio and Step-dance, with “tippity-tappity,” and
+     “clickity-clack” refrain as finale._
+
+
+
+
+VI.--COMING OF AGE.
+
+
+Our present Drama represents an attempt to illustrate upon the
+Music-hall stage the eternal truth that race _will_ tell in the long
+run, despite--but, on second thoughts, it does not _quite_ prove that,
+though it certainly shows the unerring accuracy of parental--at least,
+that is not exactly its tendency, either; and the fact is that _Mr.
+Punch_ is more than a little mixed himself as to the precise theory
+which it is designed to enforce. He hopes, however, that, as a realistic
+study of Patrician life and manners, it will possess charms for a
+democratic audience.
+
+
+COMING OF AGE.
+
+_A GRAND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGICAL COMEDY-DRAMA IN ONE ACT._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+    _The Earl of Burntalmond._
+
+    _The Countess of Burntalmond (his wife)._
+
+    _Robert Henry Viscount Bullsaye (their son and heir)._
+
+    _The Lady Rose Caramel (niece to the Earl)._
+
+    _Horehound_            } Travelling as “The Celebrated Combination
+    _Mrs. Horehound_       }   Korffdropp Troupe,” in their refined and
+    _Coltsfoot Horehound_  }   elegant Drawing-room Entertainment.
+
+    _Tenantry._
+
+
+     SCENE--_The Great Quadrangle of Hardbake Castle; banners,
+     mottoes, decorations, &c. On the steps_, R., _the Earl,_
+     supported by his wife, son, and niece, is discovered in the act
+     of concluding a speech to six tenantry, who display all the
+     enthusiasm that is reasonably to be expected at nine-pence a
+     night.
+
+  _The Earl_ (_patting_ Lord BULLSAYE’S _shoulder_). I might say more,
+Gentlemen, in praise of my dear son, Lord Bullsaye, here--I might dwell
+on his extreme sweetness, his strongly marked character, the variety of
+his tastes, and the singular attraction he has for children of all
+ages--but I forbear. I will merely announce that on this day--the day he
+has selected for attaining his majority--he has gratified us all by
+plighting troth to his cousin, the Lady Rose Caramel, with whose dulcet
+and clinging disposition he has always possessed the greatest natural
+affinity.
+     [_Cheers._
+
+  _Lord Bullsaye_ (_aside to_ Lady R.). Ah, Rose, would such happiness
+could last! But my heart misgives me strangely--why, I know not.
+
+  _Lady R._ Say not so, dear Bullsaye--have you not just rendered me the
+happiest little Patrician in the whole peerage?
+
+  _Lord B._ ’Tis true--and yet, and yet--pooh, let me snatch the present
+hour!
+     [_Snatches it._
+
+  _The Earl._ And now, let the Revels commence.
+
+_Enter the_ Korffdropp Troupe, _who give their marvellous Entertainment,
+entitled, “The Three Surprise Packets;” after which_--
+
+  _Horehound._ This will conclude the first portion of our Entertainment,
+Lords, Ladies, _and_ Gentlemen; and, while my wife and pardner retires
+to change her costoom for the Second Part, I should be glad of the
+hoppertoonity of a short pussonal hexplanation with the noble Herl on my
+right.
+
+        [_Exit_ Mrs. HOREHOUND.
+
+  _The Earl_ (_graciously_). I will hear you, fellow! (_Aside._) Strange
+how familiar his features seem to me!
+
+  _Horeh._ The fact is, your Lordship’s celebrating the coming of hage of
+the _wrong heir_. (_Sensation--i.e., the six tenantry shift from one leg
+to the other, and murmur feebly._) Oh, I can prove it. Twenty-one years
+ago--(_slow music_)--I was in your Lordship’s service as gamekeeper,
+’ead whip, and hextry waiter. My son and yours was born the selfsame
+day, and my hold dutch was selected to hact as foster-mother to the
+youthful lord. Well--(_tells a long, and not entirely original, story;
+marvellous resemblance between infants, only distinguishable by green
+and magenta bows, &c., &c._) Soon after, your Lordship discharged me at
+a moment’s notice----
+
+  _The Earl_ (_haughtily_). I did, upon discovering that you were in the
+habit of surreptitiously carrying off kitchen-stuff, concealed within
+your umbrella. But proceed with your narration.
+
+  _Horeh._ I swore to be avenged, and so--(_common form again; the shifted
+bows_)--consequently, as a moment’s reflection will convince you, the
+young man on the steps, in the button-’ole and tall ’at, is my lawful
+son, while the real Viscount is--(_presenting_ COLTSFOOT, _who advances
+modestly on his hands_)--’ere!
+
+        [_Renewed sensation._
+
+  _The Earl._ This is indeed a startling piece of intelligence. (_To_ Lord
+B.) And so, Sir, it appears that your whole life has been one consistent
+imposition--a gilded _lie_?
+
+  _Lord B._ Let my youth and inexperience at the time, Sir, plead as my
+best excuse!
+
+  _The E._ Nothing can excuse the fact that you--you, a low-born son of
+the people, have monopolised the training, the tenderness and education,
+which were the due of your Patrician foster-brother. (_To_ COLTSFOOT.)
+Approach, my injured, long-lost boy, and tell me how I may atone for
+these years of injustice and neglect!
+
+  _Colts._ Well, Guv’nor, if you could send out for a pot o’ four arf, it
+’ud be a _beginning_, like.
+
+  _The E._ You shall have every luxury that befits your rank, but first
+remove that incongruous garb.
+
+  _Colts._ (_to_ Lord B.). These ’ere togs belong to _you_ now, young
+feller, and I reckon exchange ain’t no robbery.
+
+  _Lord B._ (_with emotion, to_ Countess). Mother, can you endure to
+behold your son in tights and spangles on the very day of his majority?
+
+  _Countess_ (_coldly_). On the contrary, it is my wish to see him attired
+as soon as possible, in a more appropriate costume.
+
+  _Lord B._ (_to_ Lady R.). Rose, _you_, at least, have not changed? Tell
+me you will love me still even on the precarious summit of an acrobat’s
+pole!
+
+  _Lady Rose_ (_scornfully_). Really the presumptuous familiarity of the
+lower orders is perfectly appalling!
+
+  _The Earl_ (_to_ Countess, _as_ Lord B. _and_ COLTSFOOT _retire to
+exchange costumes_). At last, Pauline, I understand why I could never
+feel towards Bullsaye the affection of a parent. Often have I reproached
+myself for a coldness I could not overcome.
+
+  _Countess._ And I too! Nature was too strong for us. But, oh, the joy of
+recovering our son--of finding him so strong, so supple, so agile. Never
+yet has our line boasted an heir who can feed himself from a fork
+strapped on to his dexter heel!
+
+  _The E._ (_with emotion_). Our beloved, boneless boy!
+
+     [_Re-enter_ COLTSFOOT _in modern dress, and_ Lord B. _in
+     tights_.
+
+  _Colts._ Don’t I look slap-up--O.K. and no mistake? Oh, I _am_ ’aving a
+beano!
+
+  _All._ What easy gaiety, and unforced animation!
+
+  _The E._ My dear boy, let me present you to your _fiancée_. Rose, my
+love, this is your _legitimate_ lover.
+
+  _Colts._ Oh, all right, _I’ve_ no objections--on’y there’ll be ructions
+with the young woman in the tight-rope line as I’ve been keepin’ comp’ny
+with--that’s all!
+
+  _The E._ Your foster-brother will act as your substitute there.
+(_Proudly._) _My_ son must make no _mésalliance_!
+
+  _Rose_ (_timidly_). And, if it would give you any pleasure, I’m sure I
+could soon learn the tight-rope!
+
+  _Colts._ Not at _your_ time o’ life, Miss, and besides, ’ang it, now I’m
+a lord, I can’t have my wife doin’ nothing low!
+
+  _The E._ Spoken like a true Burntalmond! And now let the revels
+re-commence.
+
+[Illustration: Lord B. in tights.]
+
+        [_Re-enter_ Mrs. Horehound.
+
+  _Horeh._ (_to_ Lord B.). Now then, stoopid, tumble, can’t you--what are
+you ’ere _for_?
+
+  _Lord B._ (_to the_ Earl). Since it is your command, I obey, though it
+is ill tumbling with a heavy heart!
+
+        [_Turns head over heels laboriously._
+
+  _Colts._ Call _that_ a somersault? ’Ere, ’old my ’at (_giving tall hat
+to_ Lady R.) _I’ll_ show yer ’ow to do a turn.
+
+        [_Throws a triple somersault._
+
+  _All._ What condescension! How his aristocratic superiority is betrayed,
+even in competition with those to the manner born!
+
+  _Mrs. Horeh._ (_still in ignorance of the transformation_). Halt! I have
+kept silence till now--even from my husband, but the time has come when
+I _must_ speak. Think you that if he were indeed a lord, he could turn
+such somersaults as those? No--no. I will reveal all. (_Tells same old
+story--except that she herself from ambitious motives transposed the
+infants’ bows._) Now, do with me what you will!
+
+  _Horeh._ Confusion, so my ill-judged action did but redress the wrong I
+designed to effect!
+
+  _The E._ (_annoyed_). This is a serious matter, reflecting as it does
+upon the legitimacy of my lately recovered son. What proof have you,
+woman, of your preposterous allegation?
+
+  _Mrs. H._ None, my lord,--but these--
+
+        [_Exhibits two faded bunches of ribbon._
+
+  _The E._ I cannot resist such overwhelming evidence, fight against it as
+I may.
+
+  _Lord B._ (_triumphantly_). And so--oh, Father, Mother, Rose--dear, dear
+Rose--I am no acrobat, after all!
+
+  _The E._ (_sternly_). Would you were anything half so serviceable to the
+community, Sir! I have no superstitious reverence for rank, and am, I
+trust, sufficiently enlightened to discern worth and merit--even beneath
+the spangled vest of the humblest acrobat. Your foster-brother, brief as
+our acquaintance has been, has already endeared himself to all hearts,
+while you have borne a trifling reverse of fortune with sullen
+discontent and conspicuous incapacity. He has perfected himself in a
+lofty and distinguished profession during years spent by _you_, Sir, in
+idly cumbering the earth of Eton and Oxford. Shall I allow him to suffer
+by a purely accidental coincidence? Never! I owe him reparation, and it
+shall be paid to the uttermost penny. From this day, I adopt him as my
+eldest son, and the heir to my earldom, and all other real and personal
+effects. See, Robert Henry, that you treat your foster-brother as your
+senior in future!
+
+  _Colts._ (_to_ Lord B.). Way-oh, ole matey, I don’t bear no malice, _I_
+don’t! Give us your dooks.
+     [_Offering hand._
+
+  _The C._ Ah, Bullsaye, try to be worthy of such generosity!
+
+        [Lord B. _grasps_ COLTSFOOT’S _hand in silence_.
+
+  _Lady Rose._ And pray, understand that, whether Mr. Coltsfoot be
+viscount or acrobat, it can make no difference whatever to the
+disinterested affection with which I have lately learnt to regard him.
+
+        [_Gives her hand to_ COLTSFOOT, _who squeezes it with ardour_.
+
+  _Colts._ (_pleasantly_). Well, Father, Mother, your noble Herlship and
+Lady, foster-brother Bullsaye, and my pretty little sweetart ’ere, what
+do you all say to goin’ inside and shunting a little garbage, and
+shifting a drop or so of lotion, eh?
+
+  _The E._ A most sensible suggestion, my boy. Let us make these ancient
+walls the scene of the blithest--ahem!--_beano_ they have ever yet
+beheld!
+
+     [_Cheers from Tenantry, as the_ Earl _leads the way into the
+     Castle with_ Mrs. HOREHOUND, _followed by_ HOREHOUND _with the_
+     Countess _and_ COLTSFOOT _with_ Lady ROSE, Lord BULLSAYE,
+     _discomfited and abashed, entering last as Curtain falls_.
+
+
+
+
+VII.--RECLAIMED!
+
+OR, HOW LITTLE ELFIE TAUGHT HER GRANDMOTHER.
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Lady Belledame_ (_a Dowager of the deepest dye_).
+
+    _Monkshood_ (_her Steward, and confidential Minion_).
+
+    _Little Elfie_ (_an Angel Child_). This part has been specially
+        constructed for that celebrated Infant Actress, Banjoist, and
+        Variety Comédienne, Miss BIRDIE CALLOWCHICK.
+
+
+    SCENE--_The Panelled Room at Nightshade Hall._
+
+  _Lady Belledame_ (_discovered preparing parcels_). Old and unloved!--yes
+the longer I live, the more plainly do I perceive that I am _not_ a
+popular old woman. Have I not acquired the reputation in the County of
+being a witch? My neighbour, Sir Vevey Long, asked me publicly only the
+other day “when I would like my broom ordered,” and that minx, Lady
+Violet Powdray, has pointedly mentioned old cats in my hearing!
+Pergament, my family lawyer, has declined to act for me any longer,
+merely because Monkshood rack-rented some of the tenants a little too
+energetically in the Torture Chamber--as if in these hard times one was
+not justified in putting the screw on! Then the villagers scowl when I
+pass; the very children shrink from me--[_A childish Voice outside
+window,_ “Yah, ’oo sold ’erself to Old Bogie for a pound o’ tea an’ a
+set o’ noo teeth?”]--that is, when they do not insult me by suggestions
+of bargains that are not even businesslike! No matter--I will be avenged
+upon them all--ay, all! ’Tis Christmas-time--the season at which
+sentimental fools exchange gifts and good wishes. For once I, too, will
+distribute a few seasonable presents.... (_Inspecting parcels._) Are my
+arrangements complete? The bundle of choice cigars, in each of which a
+charge of nitro-glycerine has been dexterously inserted? The lip-salve,
+made up from my own prescription with corrosive sublimate by a venal
+chemist in the vicinity? The art flower-pot, containing a fine specimen
+of the Upas plant, swathed in impermeable sacking? The sweets compounded
+with sugar of lead? The packet of best ratsbane? Yes, nothing has been
+omitted. Now to summon my faithful Monkshood.... Ha! he is already at
+hand.
+
+        [_Chord as_ MONKSHOOD _enters_.
+
+  _Monkshood._ Your Ladyship, a child, whose sole luggage is a small
+bandbox and a large banjo, is without, and requests the favour of a
+personal interview.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_reproachfully_). And you, who have been with me all these
+years, and know my ways, omitted to let loose the bloodhounds? You grow
+careless, Monkshood!
+
+  _Monks._ (_wounded_). Your Ladyship is unjust--I _did_ unloose the
+bloodhounds; but the ferocious animals merely sat up and begged. The
+child had took the precaution to provide herself with a bun!
+
+  _Lady B._ No matter, she must be removed--I care not how.
+
+  _Monks._ There may be room for one more--a little one--in the old well.
+The child mentioned that she was your Ladyship’s granddaughter, but I
+presume that will make no difference?
+
+  _Lady B._ (_disquieted_). What!--then she must be the child of my only
+son Poldoodle, whom, for refusing to cut off the entail, I had falsely
+accused of adulterating milk, and transported beyond the seas! She
+comes hither to denounce and reproach me! Monkshood, she must not leave
+this place alive--you hear?
+
+  _Monks._ I require no second bidding--ha, the child ... she comes!
+
+     [_Chord. Little_ ELFIE _trips in with touching
+     self-confidence._
+
+  _Elfie_ (_in a charming little Cockney accent_). Yes, Grandma, it’s
+me--little Elfie, come all the way from Australia to see you, because I
+thought you must be sow lownly all by yourself! My Papa often told me
+what a long score he owed you, and how he hoped to pay you off if he
+lived. But he went out to business one day--Pa was a bushranger, you
+know, and worked--oh, _so_ hard; and never came back to his little
+Elfie, so poor little Elfie has come to live with you!
+
+  _Monks._ Will you have the child removed now, my Lady?
+
+  _Lady B._ (_undecidedly_). Not now--not yet; I have other work for you.
+These Christmas gifts, to be distributed amongst my good friends and
+neighbours (_handing parcels_). First, this bundle of cigars to Sir
+Vevey Long with my best wishes that such a connoisseur in tobacco may
+find them sufficiently strong. The salve for Lady Violet Powdray, with
+my love, and it should be rubbed on the last thing at night. The plant
+you will take to the little Pergaments--’twill serve them for a
+Christmas tree. This packet to be diluted in a barrel of beer, which you
+will see broached upon the village green; these sweetmeats for
+distribution among the most deserving of the school-children.
+
+  _Elfie_ (_throwing her arms around Lady B.’s neck_). I _do_ like you,
+Grandma, you have such a kind face! And oh, what pains you must have
+taken to find something that will do for everybody!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_disengaging herself peevishly_). Yes, yes, child. I trust
+that what I have chosen will indeed do for everybody,--but I do not
+like to be messed about. Monkshood, you know what you have to do.
+
+  _Elfie._ Oh, I am sure he does, Grandma! See how benevolently he smiles.
+You’re such a good old man, you will take care that all the poor people
+are fed, _won’t_ you?
+
+[Illustration: Little Elfie.]
+
+  _Monks._ (_with a sinister smile_). Ah! Missie, I’ve ’elped to settle a
+many people’s ’ash in my time!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_innocently_). What, do they all get hash? How nice! I like
+hash,--but what else do you give them?
+
+  _Monks._ (_grimly_). Gruel, Missie. (_Aside._) I must get out of this,
+or this innocent child’s prattle will unman me!
+
+        [_Exit with parcels._
+
+  _Elfie._ You seem so sad and troubled, Grandma. Let me sing you one of
+the songs with which I drew a smile from poor dear Pa in happier days.
+
+  _Lady B._ No, no, some other time. (_Aside._) Pshaw! why should I dread
+the effect of her simple melodies? (_Aloud._) Sing, child, if you will.
+
+  _Elfie._ How glad I am that I brought my banjo!    [_Sings._
+
+    _Dar is a lubly yaller gal dat tickles me to deff;
+    She’ll dance de room ob darkies down, and take away deir breff.
+    When she sits down to supper, ebery coloured gemple-man,
+    As she gets her upper lip o’er a plate o’ “possom dip,” cries,
+        “Woa, Lucindy Ann!”_ (Chorus, dear Granny!)
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    _Woa, Lucindy!   Woa, Lucindy!   Woa, Lucindy Ann!
+    At de rate dat you are stuffin, you will nebber leave us nuffin;
+         so woa, Miss Sindy Ann!_
+
+  _To Lady B._ (_who, after joining in chorus with deep emotion, has burst
+into tears_). Why, you are _weeping_, dear Grandmother!
+
+  _Lady B._ Nay, ’tis nothing, child--but have you no songs which are less
+sad?
+
+  _Elfie._ Oh, yes, I know plenty of plantation ditties more cheerful than
+that. (_Sings._)
+
+    _Oh, I hear a gentle whisper from de days ob long ago,
+      When I used to be a happy darkie slave.
+                                            [Trump-a-trump!
+    But now I’se got to labour wif the shovel an’ de hoe--
+      For ole Massa lies a sleepin’ in his grave!
+                                            [Trump-trump!_
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    _Poor ole Massa!   Poor ole Massa!_   (Pianissimo.)   _Poor ole
+    Massa, that I nebber more shall see!
+    He was let off by de Jury, Way down in old Missouri--But
+    dey lynched him on a persimmon tree._
+
+  _Elfie._ You smile at last, dear Grandma! I would sing to you again,
+but I am so very, very sleepy!
+
+  _Lady B._ Poor child, you have had a long journey. Rest awhile on this
+couch, and I will arrange this screen so as to protect your slumbers.
+     [_Leads little_ ELFIE _to couch_.
+
+  _Elfie_ (_sleepily_). Thanks, dear Grandma, thanks.... Now I shall go to
+sleep, and dream of you, and the dogs, and angels. I so often dream
+about angels--but that is generally after supper, and to-night I have
+had no supper.... But never mind.... Good night, Grannie, good night ...
+goo’ni’ ... goo ... goo!
+     [_She sinks softly to sleep._
+
+  _Lady B._ And I was about to set the bloodhounds upon this little
+sunbeam! ’Tis long since these grim walls have echoed strains so sweet
+as hers. (_Croons._) “Woa, Lucindy” &c. “Dey tried him by a Jury, way
+down in ole Missouri, an’ dey hung him to a possumdip tree!” (_Goes to
+couch, and gazes on the little sleeper._) How peacefully she slumbers!
+What a change has come over me in one short hour!--my withered heart is
+sending up green shoots of tenderness, of love, and hope! Let me try
+henceforth to be worthy of this dear child’s affection and respect.
+(_Turns, and sees_ MONKSHOOD.) Ha, Monkshood! Then there is time yet!
+Those parcels ... quick, quick!--the parcels!----
+
+  _Monks_ (_impassively_). Have been left as you instructed, my Lady.
+
+     [_Chord._ Lady B. _staggers back, gasping, into chair. Little_
+     ELFIE _awakes behind screen, and rubs her eyes_.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_in a hoarse whisper_). You--you have left the parcels ...
+all--_all?_ Tell me--how were they received? Speak low--I would not
+that yonder child should awake and hear!
+
+  _Little Elfie_ (_behind the screen, very wide awake indeed_). Dear, good
+old Grannie--she would conceal her generosity--even from _me_!
+(_Loudly._) She little thinks that I am overhearing all!
+
+  _Monks._ I could have sworn I heard whispering.
+
+  _Lady B._ Nay, you are mistaken--’twas but the wind in the old wainscot.
+(_Aside._) He is quite capable of destroying that innocent child; but
+old and attached servant as he is, there are liberties I still know how
+to forbid. (_To_ M.) Your story--quick!
+
+  _Monks._ First, I delivered the cigars to Sir Vevey Long, whom I found
+under his verandah. He seemed surprised and gratified by the gift,
+selected a weed, and was proceeding to light it, whilst he showed a
+desire to converse familiarly with me. ’Astily excusing myself, I drove
+away, when----
+
+  _Lady B._ When _what_? Do not torture a wretched old woman!
+
+  _Monks._ When I heard a loud report behind me, and, in the portion of a
+brace, two waistcoat-buttons, and half a slipper, which hurtled past my
+ears, I recognised all that was mortal of the late Sir Vevey. You mixed
+them cigars uncommon strong, m’Lady.
+
+  _Elfie_ (_aside_). Can it be? But no, no. I will _not_ believe it. I
+am sure that dear Granny meant no harm!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_with a grim pride she cannot wholly repress_). I have
+devoted some study to the subject of explosives. ’Tis another triumph to
+the Anti-tobacconists. And what of Lady Violet Powdray--did she apply
+the salve?
+
+  _Monks._ Judging from the ’eartrending ’owls which proceeded from
+Carmine Cottage, the salve was producing the desired result. Her
+Ladyship, ’owever, terminated her sufferings somewhat prematoor by
+jumping out of a top winder just as I was taking my departure----
+
+  _Lady B._ She should have died hereafter--but no matter ... and the
+Upas-tree?----
+
+  _Monks._----was presented to the Pergaments, who unpacked it, and
+loaded its branches with toys and tapers; after which Mr. Pergament,
+Mrs. P., and all the little Pergaments joined ’ands, and danced round
+it in light’arted glee. (_In a sombre tone._) They little knoo as how
+it was their dance of death!
+
+  _Lady B._ That knowledge will come! And the beer, Monkshood--you saw
+it broached?
+
+  _Monks._ Upon the village green; the mortality is still spreading, it
+being found impossible to undo the knots in which the victims have tied
+themselves. The sweetmeats were likewise distributed, and the floor of
+the hinfant-school now resembles one vast fly-paper.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_with a touch of remorse_). The children too! Was not my
+little Elfie once an infant? Ah me, ah me!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_aside_). Once--but that was long, long ago. And, oh, _how_
+disappointed I am in poor dear Grandmama!
+
+  _Lady B._ Monkshood, you should not have done these things--you
+should have saved me from myself. You _must_ have known how greatly all
+this would increase my unpopularity in the neighbourhood.
+
+  _Monks._ (_sulkily_). And this is my reward for obeying orders! Take
+care, my Lady. It suits you now to throw me aside like a--(_casting
+about for an original simile_)--like a old glove, because this innocent
+grandchild of yours has touched your flinty ’art. But where will _you_
+be when she learns----?
+
+  _Lady B._ (_in agony_). Ah, no, Monkshood, good, faithful Monkshood,
+she must never know that! Think, Monkshood, you would not tell her that
+the Grandmother to whom she looks up with such touching, childlike
+love, was a--_homicide_--you would not do that?
+
+  _Monks._ Some would say even ’omicide was not too black a name for
+all you’ve done. (Lady BELLEDAME _shudders_.) I might tell Miss Elfie
+how you’ve blowed up a live Baronet, corrosive sublimated a gentle
+Lady, honly for ’aving, in a moment of candour, called you a hold cat,
+and distributed pison in a variety of forms about this smiling village;
+and, if that don’t inspire her with distrust, I don’t know the nature
+of children, that’s all! I might tell her, I say, and, if I’m to keep
+my mouth shut, I shall expect it to be considered in my wages.
+
+  _Lady B._ I knew you had a good heart! I will pay you
+anything--anything, provided you shield my guilt from her ... wait, you
+shall have gold, gold, Monkshood, gold!
+
+     [_Chord. Little_ ELFIE _suddenly comes from behind screen;
+     limelight on her. The other two shrink back._
+
+  _Elfie._ Do not give that bad old man money, Grandmother, for it will
+only be wasted.
+
+  _Lady B._ Speak, child!--how much do you know?
+
+  _Elfie._ All!    [_Chord._ Lady B. _collapses on chair_.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_with an effort_). And now, Elfie, that you know, you
+scorn and hate your poor old Grandmother--is it not so?
+
+  _Elfie._ It is wrong to hate one’s Grandmother, whatever she does.
+At first when I heard, I was very, very sorry. I _did_ think it was
+most unkind of you. But now, oh, I _can’t_ believe that you had not
+some good, wise motive, in acting as you did!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_in conscience-stricken aside_). Even _this_ cannot
+shatter her artless faith ... Oh, wretch, wretch!
+
+        [_Covers her face._
+
+  _Monks._ Motive--I believe you there, Missie. Why, she went and
+insured all their lives aforehand, _she_ did.
+
+  _Lady B._ Monkshood, in pity hold your peace!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_her face beaming_). I knew it--I was sure of it! Oh,
+Granny, my dear, kind old Granny, you insured their lives first, so that
+no real harm could possibly happen to them--oh, I am so happy!
+
+[Illustration: “Good-bye, Good-bye!”]
+
+  _Lady B._ (_aside_). What shall I say? Merciful Powers, what _shall_
+I say to her?
+     [_Disturbed sounds without._
+
+  _Monks._ I don’t know what you’d better _say_, but I can tell you
+what your Ladyship had better _do_--and that is, take your ’ook while
+you can. Even now the outraged populace approaches, to wreak a hawful
+vengeance upon your guilty ’ed!
+     [_Melodramatic music._
+
+  _Lady B._ (_distractedly_). A mob! I cannot face them--they will tear
+me limb from limb. At my age I could not survive such an indignity as
+that! Hide me, Monkshood--help me to escape!
+
+  _Monks._ There is a secret underground passage, known only to myself,
+communicating with the nearest railway station. I will point it out,
+and personally conduct your Ladyship--for a consideration--one thousand
+pounds down.
+
+        [_The noise increases._
+
+  _Elfie._ No, Granny, don’t trust him! Be calm and brave. Await the
+mob here. Leave it all to me. I will explain everything to them--how you
+meant no ill,--how, at the very time they thought you were meditating
+an injury, you were actually spending money in insuring all their
+lives. When I tell them _that_----
+
+  _Monks._ Ah, you tell ’em that, and see. It’s too late now--they are
+here!
+
+     [_Shouts without._ Lady B. _crouches on floor. Little_ ELFIE
+     _goes to the window, throws open the shutters, and stands on
+     balcony in her fluttering white robe, and the limelight_.
+
+  _Elfie._ Yes, they are here. Why, they are carrying torches!--(Lady
+B. _groans_)--and banners, too! I think they have a band.... Who is
+that tall, stout gentleman, in the white hat, on horseback, and the
+lady in a pony-trap, with, oh, such a beautiful complexion! There is an
+inscription on one of the flags--I can read it quite plainly. “_Thanks
+to the generous Donor!_” (That must be _you_, Grandmother!) And there
+are children who dance, and scatter flowers. They are asking for a
+speech. (_Speaking off._) “If you please, Ladies and Gentlemen, my
+Grandmama is not at all well, but she wishes me to say she wishes you
+a Merry Christmas, and is very glad you all like your presents so much.
+Good-bye, _good_-bye!” (_Returning down Stage._) Now they have gone
+away, Granny.... They did look so grateful!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_bewildered_). What is this! Sir Vevey, Lady
+Violet,--alive, well? This deputation of gratitude? Am I mad,
+dreaming--or what does it all mean?
+
+  _Monks._ (_doggedly_). It means that the sight of this ’ere angel
+child recalled me to a sense of what I might be exposin’ myself to by
+carrying out your Ladyship’s commands; and so I took the liberty of
+substitootin gifts more calculated to inspire gratitude in their
+recipients--that’s what it means.
+
+  _Lady B._ Wretch!--then you have disobeyed me? You leave this day
+   month!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_pleading_). Nay, Grandmother, bear with him, for has not his
+disobedience spared you from acts that you might some day have
+regretted?... There, Mr. Butler, Granny forgives you--see, she holds out
+her hand, and here’s mine; and now----
+
+  _Lady B._ (_smiling tenderly_). Now you shall sing us “_Woa,
+   Lucinda!_”
+
+     [_Little_ ELFIE _fetches her banjo, and sings, “Woa, Lucinda!”
+     her Grandmother and the aged Steward joining in the dance and
+     chorus, and embracing the child, to form picture as Curtain
+     falls_.
+
+
+
+
+VIII.--JACK PARKER;
+
+OR, THE BULL WHO KNEW HIS BUSINESS.
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Jack Parker_ (“_was a cruel boy, For mischief was his sole
+                  employ._”--_Vide_) Miss JANE TAYLOR.
+
+    _Miss Lydia Banks_ (“_though very young, Will never do what’s
+                       rude or wrong._”--_Ditto._)
+
+    _Farmer Banks_        }  By the Brothers GRIFFITHS.
+    _Farmer Banks’s Bull_ }
+
+    _Chorus of Farm Hands._
+
+
+     SCENE.--_A Farmyard._ R. _a stall from which the head of the
+     Bull is visible above the half-door. Enter_ Farmer BANKS _with
+     a cudgel_.
+
+  _Farmer B._ (_moodily_). When roots are quiet, and cereals are dull,
+    I vent my irritation on the Bull.
+
+        [_We have_ Miss TAYLOR’S _own authority for this rhyme_.
+
+    Come hup, you beast!
+
+     [_Opens stall and flourishes cudgel--the Bull comes forward
+     with an air of deliberate defiance._
+
+    Oh, turning narsty, is he?
+
+        [_Apologetically to Bull._
+
+    Another time will do! I see you’re busy!
+
+     [_The Bull, after some consideration, decides to accept this
+     retractation, and retreats with dignity to his stall, the door
+     of which he carefully fastens after him. Exit_ Farmer BANKS,
+     L., _as_ LYDIA BANKS _enters_ R. _accompanied by Chorus. The
+     Bull exhibits the liveliest interest in her proceedings, as he
+     looks on, with his forelegs folded easily upon the top of the
+     door._
+
+_Song_--LYDIA BANKS (_in Polka time_).
+
+    I’m the child by Miss Jane Taylor sung;
+    Unnaturally good for one so young--
+    A pattern for the people that I go among,
+    With my moral little tags on the tip of my tongue.
+    And I often feel afraid that I shan’t live long,
+    For I never do a thing that’s rude or wrong!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the Bull beats time_).
+      As a general rule, one _doesn’t_ live long,
+      If you never do a thing that’s rude or wrong!
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    My words are all with wisdom fraught,
+    To make polite replies I’ve sought;
+    And learned by independent thought,
+    That a pinafore, inked, is good for nought.
+    So wonderfully well have I been taught,
+    That I turn my toes as children ought!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the Bull dances_).
+      This moral lesson she’s been taught--
+      She turns her toes as children ought!
+
+  _Lydia_ (_sweetly_). Yes, I’m the Farmer’s daughter--Lydia Banks;
+    No person ever caught me playing pranks!
+    I’m loved by all the live-stock on the farm,
+
+        [_Ironical applause from the Bull._
+
+    Pigeons I’ve plucked will perch upon my arm,
+    And pigs at my approach sit up and beg.
+
+        [_Business by Bull._
+
+    For me the partial peacock saves his egg,
+    No sheep e’er snaps if _I_ attempt to touch her,
+    Lambs _like_ it when I lead them to the butcher!
+    Each morn I milk my rams beneath the shed,
+    While rabbits flutter twittering round my head,
+    And, as befits a dairy-farmer’s daughter,
+    What milk I get I supplement with water,
+
+     [_A huge Shadow is thrown on the road outside_; LYDIA _starts_.
+
+    Whose shadow is it makes the highway darker?
+    That bullet head! those ears! it is----Jack Parker!
+
+     [_Chord. The Chorus flee in dismay, as_ JACK _enters with a
+     reckless swagger_.
+
+_Song_--JACK PARKER.
+
+    I’m loafing about, and I very much doubt
+    If my excellent Ma is aware that I’m out;
+    My time I employ in attempts to annoy,
+    And I’m not what you’d call an agreeable boy!
+        I shoe the cats with walnut-shells;
+          Tin cans to curs I tie;
+        Ring furious knells at front-door bells--
+          Then round the corner fly!
+    ’Neath donkeys’ tails I fasten furze,
+      Or timid horsemen scare;
+    If chance occurs, I stock with burrs
+      My little Sister’s hair!
+
+        [_The Bull shakes his head reprovingly._
+
+    Such tricks give me joy without any alloy,
+    But they do not denote an agreeable boy!
+
+     [_As_ JACK PARKER _concludes, the Bull ducks cautiously below
+     the half-door, while_ LYDIA _conceals herself behind the pump_,
+     L.C.
+
+  _Jack_ (_wandering about stage discontentedly_). I thought at least
+        there’d be _some_ beasts to badger here!
+    Call this a farm--there ain’t a blooming spadger here!
+
+        [_Approaches stall--Bull raises head suddenly._
+
+    A bull! This is a lark I’ve long awaited!
+    He’s in a stable, so he should be baited.
+
+     [_The Bull shows symptoms of acute depression at this jeu de
+     mots_; LYDIA _comes forward indignantly_.
+
+  _Lydia._ I _can’t_ stand by and see that poor bull suffer!
+    Excitement’s sure to make his beef taste tougher!
+
+        [_The Bull emphatically corroborates this statement._
+
+    Be warned by Miss Jane Taylor; fractured skulls
+    Invariably come from teasing bulls!
+    So let that door alone, nor lift the latchet;
+    For if the bull gets out--why, then you’ll catch it.
+
+  _Jack._ A fractured skull? Yah, don’t believe a word of it!
+
+     [_Raises latchet: chord; Bull comes slowly out, and crouches
+     ominously_; JACK _retreats, and takes refuge on top of pump:
+     the Bull, after scratching his back with his off foreleg, makes
+     a sudden rush at_ LYDIA.
+
+  _Lydia_ (_as she evades it_). Here, help!--it’s chasing me!--it’s
+        too absurd of it!
+    Go away, Bull--with _me_ you have no quarrel!
+
+     [_The Bull intimates that he is acting from a deep sense of
+     duty._
+
+  _Lydia_ (_impatiently_). You stupid thing, you’re _ruining_ the
+   moral!
+
+        [_The Bull persists obstinately in his pursuit._
+
+  _Jack_ (_from top of pump_). Well dodged, Miss Banks! although
+        the Bull I’ll back!
+
+        [_Enter_ Farm-hands.
+
+  _Lydia._ Come quick--this Bull’s mistaking me for Jack!
+
+  _Jack._ He knows his business best, I shouldn’t wonder.
+
+  _Farm-hands_ (_philosophically_). He ain’t the sort of Bull
+        to make a blunder.
+
+        [_They look on._
+
+  _Lydia_ (_panting._) Such violent exercise will soon exhaust me!
+
+        [_The Bull comes behind her._
+
+    Oh, Bull, it _is_ unkind of you ... you’ve _tossed_ me!
+
+     [_Falls on ground, while the Bull stands over her, in readiness
+     to give the coup de grace_; LYDIA _calls for help_.
+
+  _A Farm-hand_ (_encouragingly_). Nay, Miss, he seems moor
+        sensible nor surly--
+    He knows as how good children perish early!
+
+     [_The Bull nods in acknowledgment that he is at last
+     understood, and slaps his chest with his forelegs._
+
+  _Lydia._ Bull, I’ll turn naughty, if you’ll but be lenient!
+    Goodness, I see, is sometimes inconvenient.
+    I promise you henceforth I’ll _try_, at any rate,
+    To act like children who are unregenerate!
+
+[Illustration: On top of the Pump.]
+
+     [_The Bull, after turning this over, decides to accept a
+     compromise._
+
+  _Jack._ And, Lydia, when you ready for a lark are,
+    Just give a chyhike to your friend--Jack Parker!
+
+        [_They shake hands warmly._
+
+
+FINALE.
+
+  _Lydia._ I thought to slowly fade away so calm and beautiful.
+      (Though I didn’t mean to go just yet);
+    But you get no chance for pathos when you’re chivied by a bull!
+      (So I thought I wouldn’t go just yet.)
+    For I did feel so upset, when I found that all you get
+    By the exercise of virtue, is that bulls will come and hurt you!
+      That I thought I wouldn’t go just yet!
+
+  _Chorus._ We hear, with some regret,
+      That she doesn’t mean to go just yet.
+      But a Bull with horns that hurt you
+      Is a poor return for virtue,
+      So she’s wiser not to go just yet!
+
+     [_The Bull rises on his hindlegs, and gives a forehoof each to_
+     LYDIA _and_ JACK, _who dance wildly round and round as the
+     Curtain falls_.
+
+[N.B.--Music-hall Managers are warned that the morality of this
+particular Drama may possibly be called in question by some members of
+the L. C. C.]
+
+
+
+
+IX.--UNDER THE HARROW.
+
+_A CONVENTIONAL COMEDY-MELODRAMA, IN TWO ACTS._
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Sir Poshbury Puddock (a haughty and high-minded Baronet)._
+
+    _Verbena Puddock (his Daughter)._
+
+    _Lord Bleshugh (her Lover)._
+
+    _Spiker (a needy and unscrupulous Adventurer)._
+
+    _Blethers (an ancient and attached Domestic)._
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+    SCENE--_The Morning Room at Natterjack Hall, Toadley-le-Hole;
+    large window open at back, with heavy practicable sash._
+
+_Enter_ BLETHERS.
+
+  _Blethers._ Sir Poshbury’s birthday to-day--his birthday!--and the
+gentry giving of him presents. Oh, Lor! if they only knew what _I_
+could tell ’em!... Ah, and _must_ tell, too, before long--but not
+yet--not yet!
+     [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ LORD BLESHUGH _and_ VERBENA.
+
+  _Verb._ Yes, Papa is forty to-day; (_innocently_) fancy living to
+_that_ age! The tenants have presented him with a handsome jar of mixed
+pickles, with an appropriate inscription. Papa is loved and respected
+by every one. And I--well, I have made him a little housewife,
+containing needles and thread ... See!
+     [_Shows it._
+
+  _Lord Blesh._ (_tenderly_). I say, I--I wish you would make _me_ a
+little housewife!
+
+        [_Comedy love-dialogue omitted owing to want of space._
+
+  _Verb._ Oh, do look!--there’s Papa crossing the lawn with, oh, such a
+horrid man following him!
+
+  _Lord B._ Regular bounder. Shocking bad hat!
+
+  _Verb._ Not so bad as his boots, and _they_ are not so bad as his
+face! Why doesn’t Papa order him to go away? Oh, he is actually
+inviting him in!
+
+_Enter_ Sir POSHBURY, _gloomy and constrained, with_ SPIKER, _who is
+jaunty, and somewhat over familiar._
+
+  _Spiker_ (_sitting on the piano, and dusting his boots with his
+handkerchief_). Cosy little shanty you’ve got here, Puddock--very
+tasty!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_with a gulp_). I am--ha--delighted that you approve of it!
+Ah, Verbena!
+     [_Kisses her on forehead._
+
+  _Spiker._ Your daughter, eh? Pooty gal. Introduce me.
+
+        [_Sir_ POSH. _introduces him--with an effort._
+
+  _Verbena_ (_coldly_). How do you do? Papa, did you know that the
+sashline of this window was broken? If it is not mended, it will fall
+on somebody’s head, and perhaps kill him!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_absently_). Yes--yes, it shall be attended to; but leave
+us, my child, go. Bleshugh, this--er--gentleman and I have business of
+importance to discuss.
+
+  _Spiker._ Don’t let us drive you away, Miss; your Pa and me are only
+talking over old times, that’s all--eh, Posh?
+
+  _Sir P._ (_in a tortured aside_). Have a care, Sir, don’t drive me
+too far! (_To_ VERB.) Leave us, I say. (Lord B. _and_ VERB. _go out,
+raising their eyebrows._) Now, Sir, what is this secret you profess to
+have discovered?
+
+  _Spiker._ Oh, a mere nothing. (_Takes out a cigar._) Got a light
+about you? Thanks. Perhaps you don’t recollect twenty-seven years ago
+this very day, travelling from Edgware Road to Baker Street, by the
+Underground Railway?
+
+  _Sir P._ Perfectly; it was my thirteenth birthday, and I celebrated
+the event by a visit to Madame Tussaud’s.
+
+[Illustration: Spiker Introduced.]
+
+  _Spiker._ Exactly; it was your thirteenth birthday, and you travelled
+second-class with a half-ticket--(_meaningly_)--on your thirteenth
+birthday.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_terribly agitated_). Fiend that you are, how came you to
+learn this?
+
+  _Spiker._ Very simple. I was at that time in the temporary position
+of ticket-collector at Baker Street. In the exuberance of boyhood, you
+cheeked me. I swore to be even with you some day.
+
+  _Sir P._ Even if--if your accusation were well-founded, how are you
+going to prove it?
+
+  _Sp._ Oh, that’s easy! I preserved the half-ticket, on the chance
+that I should require it as evidence hereafter.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_aside_). And so the one error of an otherwise blameless
+boyhood has found me out--at last! (_To_ SPIKER.) I fear you not; my
+crime--if crime indeed it was--is surely condoned by twenty-seven long
+years of unimpeachable integrity!
+
+  _Sp._ Bye-laws are Bye-laws, old Buck! there’s no Statute of
+Limitations in criminal offences that ever _I_ heard of! Nothing can
+alter the fact that you, being turned thirteen, obtained a half-ticket
+by a false representation that you were under age. A line from me, even
+now, denouncing you to the Traffic Superintendent, and I’m very much
+afraid----
+
+  _Sir P._ (_writhing_). Spiker, my--my dear friend, you won’t do
+that--you won’t expose me? Think of my age, my position, my daughter!
+
+  _Sp._ Ah, now you’ve touched the right chord! I _was_ thinking of
+your daughter--a nice lady-like gal--I don’t mind telling you she
+fetched me, Sir, at the first glance. Give me her hand, and I burn the
+compromising half-ticket before your eyes on our return from church
+after the wedding. Come, that’s a fair offer!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_indignantly_). My child, the ripening apple of my failing
+eye, to be sacrificed to a blackmailing blackguard like you! Never
+while I live!
+
+  _Sp._ Just as you please; and, if you will kindly oblige me with
+writing materials, I will just drop a line to the Traffic
+Superintendent----
+
+  _Sir P._ (_hoarsely_). No, no; not _that_.... Wait, listen; I--I will
+speak to my daughter. I promise nothing; but if her heart is still her
+own to give, she may, (mind, I do not say she _will_,) be induced to
+link her lot to yours, though I shall not attempt to influence her in
+any way--in _any_ way.
+
+  _Sp._ Well, you know your own business best, old Cockalorum. Here
+comes the young lady, so I’ll leave you to manage this delicate affair
+alone. Ta-ta. I shan’t be far off.
+
+        [_Swaggers insolently out as_ VERB. _enters._
+
+  _Sir P._ My child, I have just received an offer for your hand. I
+know not if you will consent?
+
+  _Verb._ I can guess who has made that offer, and why. I consent with
+all my heart, dear Papa.
+
+  _Sir P._ Can I trust my ears! You consent? Noble girl!
+
+        [_He embraces her._
+
+  _Verb._ I was quite sure dear Bleshugh meant to speak, and I _do_
+love him very much.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_starting_). It is not Lord Bleshugh, my child, but Mr.
+Samuel Spiker, the gentleman (for he is at heart a gentleman) whom I
+introduced to you just now.
+
+  _Verb._ I have seen so little of him, Papa, I cannot love him--you
+must really excuse me!
+
+  _Sir P._ Ah, but you will, my darling, you _will_--I know your
+unselfish nature--you will, to save your poor old dad from a terrible
+disgrace ... yes, _disgrace_, listen! Twenty-seven years ago--(_he
+tells her all_). Verbena, at this very moment, there is a subscription
+on foot in the county to present me with my photograph, done by an
+itinerant photographer of the highest eminence, and framed and glazed
+ready for hanging. Is that photograph never to know the nail which even
+now awaits it? Can you not surrender a passing girlish fancy, to spare
+your fond old father’s fame? Mr. Spiker is peculiar, perhaps, in many
+ways--not quite of our _monde_--but he loves you sincerely, my child,
+and that is in itself a recommendation. Ah, I see--my prayers are vain
+... be happy, then. As for me, let the police come--I am ready!
+     [_Weeps._
+
+  _Verb._ Not so, Papa; I will marry this Mr. Spiker, since it is your
+wish.
+     [Sir POSH. _dries his eyes._
+
+  _Sir P._ Here, Spiker, my dear fellow, it is all right. Come in. She
+accepts you.
+
+_Enter_ SPIKER.
+
+  _Sp._ Thought she would. Sensible little gal! Well, Miss, you shan’t
+regret it. Bless you, we’ll be as chummy together as a couple of little
+dicky-birds.
+
+  _Verb._ Mr. Spiker, let us understand one another. I will do my best
+to be a good wife to you--but chumminess is not mine to give, nor can I
+promise ever to be your dicky-bird.
+
+_Enter_ LORD BLESHUGH.
+
+  _Lord B._ Sir Poshbury, may I have five minutes with you? Verbena,
+you need not go. (_Looking at_ SPIKER.) Perhaps this person will kindly
+relieve us of his presence.
+
+  _Sp._ Sorry to disoblige, old fellow, but I’m on duty where Miss
+Verbena is now, you see, as she’s just promised to be my wife.
+
+  _Lord B._ _Your_ wife!
+
+  _Verb._ (_faintly_). Yes, Lord Bleshugh, his _wife_!
+
+  _Sir P._ Yes, my poor boy, _his_ wife!
+
+     [VERBENA _totters, and falls heavily in a dead faint,_ R.C.,
+     _upsetting a flower-stand;_ LORD BLESHUGH _staggers, and swoons
+     on sofa, C., overturning a table of knicknacks;_ SIR POSHBURY
+     _sinks into chair,_ L.C., _and covers his face with his hands._
+
+  _Sp._ (_looking down on them triumphantly_). Under the Harrow, by
+Gad! Under the Harrow!
+
+        [_Curtain, and end of Act I._
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+    SCENE--_Same as in Act I.; viz., the Morning-Room at Natterjack
+    Hall. Evening of same day. Enter_ BLETHERS.
+
+  _Blethers._ Another of Sir Poshbury’s birthdays almost gone--and my
+secret still untold! (_Dodders._) I can’t keep it up much longer....
+Ha, here comes his Lordship--he does look mortal bad, that he do! Miss
+Verbena ain’t treated him too well, from all I can hear, poor young
+feller!
+
+_Enter_ LORD BLESHUGH.
+
+  _Lord Bleshugh._ Blethers, by the memory of the innumerable
+half-crowns that have passed between us, be my friend now--I have no
+others left. Persuade your young Mistress to come hither--you need not
+tell her _I_ am here, you understand. Be discreet, and this florin
+shall be yours!
+
+  _Blethers._ Leave it to me, my lord. I’d tell a lie for less than
+that, any day, old as I am!
+     [_Exit._
+
+  _Lord Bl._ I cannot rest till I have heard from her own lips that the
+past few hours have been nothing but a horrible dream.... She is
+coming! Now for the truth!
+
+_Enter_ VERBENA.
+
+  _Verbena._ Papa, did you want me? (_Recognises Lord B.--controls
+herself to a cold formality._) My lord, to what do I owe this--this
+unexpected intrusion?
+     [_Pants violently._
+
+  _Lord Bl._ Verbena, tell me, you cannot really prefer that seedy snob
+in the burst boots to me?
+
+  _Verb._ (_aside_). How can I tell him the truth without betraying
+dear Papa? No, I must lie, though it kills me. (_To Lord B._) Lord
+Bleshugh, I have been trifling with you. I--I never loved you.
+
+  _Lord B._ I see, and all the while your heart was given to a howling
+cad?
+
+  _Verb._ And if it was, who can account for the vagaries of a girlish
+fancy! We women are capricious beings, you know. (_With hysterical
+gaiety._) But you are unjust to Mr. Spiker--he has not _yet_ howled in
+_my_ presence--(_aside_)--though I very nearly did in _his_!
+
+  _Lord B._ And you really love him?
+
+  _Verb._ I--I love him. (_Aside._) My heart will break!
+
+  _Lord B._ Then I have no more to say. Farewell, Verbena! Be as happy
+as the knowledge that you have wrecked one of the brightest careers,
+and soured one of the sweetest natures in the county, will permit.
+(_Goes up stage, and returns._) A few days since you presented me with
+a cloth pen-wiper, in the shape of a dog of unknown breed. If you will
+kindly wait here for half-an-hour, I shall have much pleasure in
+returning a memento which I have no longer the right to retain, and
+there are several little things I gave you which I can take back with
+me at the same time, if you will have them put up in readiness.
+     [_Exit._
+
+  _Verbena._ Oh, he is cruel, cruel! but I shall keep the little bone
+yard-measure, and the diamond pig--they are all I have to remind me of
+him!
+
+_Enter_ SPIKER, _slightly intoxicated._
+
+  _Spiker._ (_throwing himself on sofa without seeing Verb._) I don’
+know how it is, but I feel precioush shleepy, somehow. P’raps I _did_
+partake lil’ too freely of Sir Poshbury’s gen’rous Burgundy. Wunner why
+they call it “gen’rous”--it didn’t give _me_ anything--’cept a bloomin’
+headache! However, I punished it, and old Poshbury had to look on and
+let me. He-he! (_Examining his hand._) Who’d think, to look at thish
+thumb, that there was a real live Baronet squirmin’ under it. But there
+ish!
+     [_Snores._
+
+[Illustration: Spiker spiked.]
+
+  _Verb._ (_bitterly_). And _that_ thing is my affianced husband Ah, no
+I cannot go through with it, he is _too_ repulsive! If I could but find
+a way to free myself without compromising poor Papa. The sofa-cushion!
+_Dare_ I? It would be quite painless.... Surely the removal of such an
+odious wretch cannot be _Murder_.... I will! (_Slow music. She gets a
+cushion, and presses it tightly over_ SPIKER’S _head._) Oh, I _wish_ he
+wouldn’t gurgle like that, and how he does kick! He cannot even die
+like a gentleman! (SPIKER’S _kicks become more and more feeble and
+eventually cease._) How still he lies! I almost wish ... Mr. Spiker,
+Mr. Spi-ker!... no answer--oh, I really _have_ suffocated him! (_Enter_
+Sir POSH.) You, Papa?
+
+  _Sir Posh._ What, Verbena, sitting with, hem--Samuel in the gloaming?
+(_Sings with forced hilarity._) “In the gloaming, oh, my darling!”
+that’s as it should be--quite as it should be!
+
+  _Verb._ (_in dull strained accents_). Don’t sing, Papa, I cannot bear
+it--just yet. I have just suffocated Mr. Spiker with a sofa-cushion.
+See!
+     [_Shows the body._
+
+  _Sir Posh._ Then I am safe--he will tell no tales now! But, my child,
+are you aware of the very serious nature of your act? An act of which,
+as a Justice of the Peace, I am bound to take some official cognizance!
+
+  _Verb._ Do not scold me, Papa. Was it not done for _your_ sake?
+
+  _Sir P._ I cannot accept such an excuse as that. I fear your motives
+were less disinterested than you would have me believe. And now,
+Verbena, what will _you_ do? As your father, I would gladly screen
+you--but, as a Magistrate, I cannot promise to be more than passive.
+
+  _Verb._ Listen, Papa. I have thought of a plan--why should I not
+wheel this sofa to the head of the front-door steps, and tip it over?
+They will only think he fell down when intoxicated--for he _had_ taken
+far too much wine, Papa!
+
+  _Sir P._ Always the same quick-witted little fairy! Go, my child, but
+be careful that none of the servants see you. (VERB. _wheels the sofa
+and_ SPIKER’S _body out,_ L.U.E.) My poor impulsive darling, I do hope
+she will not be seen--servants _do_ make such mischief! But there’s an
+end of Spiker, at any rate. I should _not_ have liked him for a
+son-in-law, and with him, goes the only person who knows my unhappy
+secret!
+
+_Enter_ BLETHERS.
+
+  _Blethers._ Sir Poshbury, I have a secret to reveal which I can
+preserve no longer--it concerns something that happened many years
+ago--it is connected with your _birthday_, Sir Poshbury.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_quailing_). What, _another_! I must stop _his_ tongue at all
+hazards. Ah, the rotten sash-line! (_To_ BLETHERS.) I will hear you, but
+first close yonder window, the night-air is growing chill.
+
+     [BLETHERS _goes to window at back. Slow music. As he approaches
+     it,_ Lord BLESHUGH _enters_ (R 2 E), _and, with a smothered cry
+     of horror, drags him back by the coat-tails--just before the
+     window falls with a tremendous crash._
+
+  _Sir P._ Bleshugh! What have you done?
+
+  _Lord Blesh._ (_sternly_). Saved _him_ from an untimely end--and _you_
+from--crime!
+
+_Collapse of_ Sir P. _Enter_ VERBENA, _terrified._
+
+  _Verb._ Papa, Papa, hide me! The night-air and the cold stone steps
+have restored Mr. Spiker to life and consciousness! He is coming to
+denounce me--you--both of us! He is awfully annoyed!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_recklessly_). It is useless to appeal to me, child. I have
+enough to do to look after myself--now.
+
+        [_Enter_ SPIKER, _indignant._
+
+  _Spiker._ Pretty treatment for a gentleman, this! Look here,
+Poshbury, this young lady has choked me with a cushion, and then
+pitched me down the front steps--I might have broken my neck.
+
+  _Sir P._ It was an oversight which I lament, but for which I must
+decline to be answerable. You must settle your differences with her.
+
+  _Spiker._ And you too, old horse! _You_ had a hand in this, I know,
+and I’ll pay you out for it now. My life ain’t safe if I marry a girl
+like that, so I’ve made up my mind to split and be done with it!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_contemptuously_). If _you_ don’t, Blethers _will_. So do
+your worst, you hound!
+
+  _Spiker._ Very well then; I will. (_To the rest._) I denounce this man
+for travelling with a half-ticket from Edgware Road to Baker Street on
+his thirteenth birthday, the 31st of March twenty-seven years ago this
+very day!
+     [_Sensation._
+
+  _Blethers._ Hear me! It was _not_ his thirteenth birthday; Sir
+Poshbury’s birthday falls on the 1st of April--_to-morrow_! I was sent
+to register the birth, and, by a blunder, which I have repented
+bitterly ever since, unfortunately gave the wrong date. Till this
+moment I have never had the manliness or sincerity to confess my error,
+for fear of losing my situation.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_to_ SPIKER). Do you hear, you paltry knave? I was _not_
+thirteen. Consequently, I was under age, and the Bye-laws are still
+unbroken. Your hold over me is gone--gone for ever!
+
+  _Spiker._ H’m--Spiker spiked this time!
+
+        [_Retires up disconcerted._
+
+  _Lord Bl._ And you did not really love him, after all, Verbena?
+
+  _Verb._ (_with arch pride_). Have I not proved my indifference?
+
+  _Lord Bl._ But I forget--you admitted that you were but trifling with
+my affection--take back your pin-cushion!
+
+  _Verb._ Keep it. All that I did was done to spare my father!
+
+  _Sir Posh._ Who, as a matter of fact, was innocent--but I forgive
+you, child, for your unworthy suspicions. Bleshugh, my boy, you have
+saved me from unnecessarily depriving myself of the services of an old
+retainer. Blethers, I condone a dissimulation for which you have done
+much to atone. Spiker, you vile and miserable rascal, be off, and be
+thankful that I have sufficient magnanimity to refrain from giving you
+in charge. (SPIKER _sneaks off crushed._) And now, my children, and my
+faithful old servant, congratulate me that I am no longer----
+
+  _Verbena and Lord Bleshugh_ (_together_). Under the Harrow!
+
+        [_Affecting Family Tableau and quick Curtain._
+
+
+
+
+X.--TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE
+
+
+[Illustration: Tommy and Jane.]
+
+Once more we draw upon our favourite source of inspiration--the poems
+of the Misses Taylor. The dramatist is serenely confident that the new
+London County Council Censor of Plays, whenever that much-desired
+official is appointed, will highly approve of this little piece on
+account of the multiplicity of its morals. It is intended to teach,
+amongst other useful lessons, that--as the poem on which it is founded
+puts it--“Fruit in lanes is seldom good”; also, that it is not always
+prudent to take a hint: again, that constructive murder is distinctly
+reprehensible, and should never be indulged in by persons who cannot
+control their countenances afterwards. Lastly, that suicide may often
+be averted by the exercise of a little _savoir vivre_.
+
+
+TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE.
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Tommy and his Sister Jane (Taylorian Twins, and awful examples)._
+
+    _Their Wicked Uncle (plagiarised from a forgotten Nursery Story,
+        and slightly altered)._
+
+    _Old Farmer Copeer (skilled in the use of horse and cattle
+     medicines)._
+
+
+     SCENE--_A shady lane; on the right, a gate, leading to the
+     farm; left, some bushes, covered with practicable scarlet
+     berries._
+
+_Enter the_ Wicked Uncle, _stealthily_.
+
+  _The W. U._ No peace of mind I e’er shall know again
+    Till I have cooked the geese of Tom and Jane!
+    But--though a naughty--I’m a nervous nunky,
+    For downright felonies I’m far too funky!
+    I’d hire assassins--but of late the villains
+    Have raised their usual fee to fifteen shillin’s!
+    Nor, to reduce their rates, will they engage
+    (_Sympathetically_) For two poor orphans who are under age!
+    So (as I’d give no more than half a guinea)
+    I must myself get rid of Tom and Jenny.
+    Yet, like an old soft-hearted fool, I falter,
+    And can’t make up my mind to risk a halter.
+    (_Looking off._) Ha, in the distance, Jane and little Tom I see!
+    These berries--(_meditatively_)--why, it only needs diplomacy.
+    Ho-ho, a most ingenious experiment!
+
+     [_Indulges in silent and sinister mirth, as_ Jane _and_ Tom
+     _trip in, and regard him with innocent wonder._
+
+  _Jane._ Uncle, what _is_ the joke? Why all this merriment?
+
+  _The W. U._ (_in guilty confusion_). Not merriment, my
+        loves--a trifling spasm--
+    Don’t be alarmed--your Uncle often has ’em!
+    I’m feeling better than I did at first--
+    _You’re_ looking flushed, though not, I hope, with thirst?
+
+        [_Insidiously._
+
+_Song, by the_ Wicked Uncle.
+
+    The sun is scorching overhead;
+      The roads are dry and dusty;
+    And here are berries, ripe and red,
+      Refreshing when you’re _thusty_!
+    They’re hanging just within your reach,
+      Inviting you to clutch them!
+    But--as your Uncle--I beseech
+      You won’t attempt to touch them?
+
+  _Tommy and Jane_ (_dutifully_). We’ll do whatever you beseech, and not
+attempt to touch them!
+
+        [_Annoyance of_ W. U.
+
+  _The W. U._ Temptation (so I’ve understood)
+      A child, in order kept, shuns;
+    And fruit in lanes is seldom good
+      (With several exceptions).
+    However freely you partake,
+      It can’t--as you are young--kill,
+    But should it cause a stomach-ache--
+      Well, don’t you blame your Uncle!
+
+  _Tommy and Jane._ No, should it cause a stomach-ache, we will not
+  blame our Uncle!
+
+  _The W. U._ (_aside_). They’ll need no further personal assistance,
+    But take the bait when I am at a distance.
+    I could not, were I paid a thousand ducats,
+    (_With sentiment_) Stand by, and see them kick their little buckets,
+    Or look on while their sticks this pretty pair cut!
+
+        [_Stealing off._
+
+  _Tommy._ What, Uncle, going?
+
+  _The W. U._ (_with assumed jauntiness_). Just to get my hair
+        cut!    [_Goes._
+
+  _Tommy_ (_looking wistfully at the berries_). I say, they _do_ look
+        nice, Jane, such a lot too!
+
+  _Jane_ (_demurely_). Well, Tommy, Uncle never told us _not_ to.
+
+     [_Slow music; they gradually approach the berries, which they
+     pick and eat with increasing relish, culminating in a dance of
+     delight._
+
+_Duet_--TOMMY _and_ JANE (_with step-dance_).
+
+  _Tommy_ (_dancing, with his mouth full_). These berries ain’t so
+        bad--although they’ve far too much acidity.
+
+  _Jane_ (_ditto_). To me, their only drawback is a dash of insipidity.
+
+  _Tommy_ (_rudely_). But, all the same, you’re wolfing ’em
+        with wonderful avidity!
+
+  _Jane_ (_indignantly_). No, _that_ I’m not, so _there_ now!
+
+  _Tommy_ (_calmly_).                          But you _are_!
+
+  _Jane._                                                 And so are
+   _you_!
+
+     [_They retire up, dancing, and eat more berries--after which
+     they gaze thoughtfully at each other._
+
+  _Jane._ This fruit is most refreshing--but it’s curious how
+        it cloys on you!
+
+  _Tommy_ (_with anxiety_). I wonder why all appetite for
+        dinner it destroys in you!
+
+  _Jane._ Oh, Tommy, aren’t you half afraid you’ve ate
+        enough to poison you?
+
+  _Tommy._ No, _that_ I’m not--so there now! &c., &c.
+
+        [_They dance as before._
+
+  _Tommy._ Jane, _is_ your palate parching up in horrible aridity?
+
+  _Jane._ It is, and in my throat’s a lump of singular solidity.
+
+  _Tommy._ Then that is why you’re dancing with such pokerlike
+   rigidity.
+
+     [_Refrain as before; they dance with decreasing spirit, and
+     finally stop, and fan one another with their hats._
+
+  _Jane._ I’m better now that on my brow there is a little breeziness.
+
+  _Tommy._ My passing qualm is growing calm, and tightness
+        turns to easiness.
+
+  _Jane._ You seem to me tormented by a tendency to queasiness?
+
+     [_Refrain; they attempt to continue the dance--but suddenly sit
+     down side by side._
+
+  _Jane_ (_with a gasp_). I don’t know what it is--but, oh, I
+        _do_ feel so peculiar!
+
+  _Tommy_ (_with a gulp_). I’ve tumults taking place within
+        that I may say unruly are.
+
+  _Jane._ Why, Tommy, you are turning green--you really
+        and you _truly_ are!
+
+  _Tommy._ No, _that_ I’m not, so _there_ now!
+
+  _Jane._                              But you _are_!
+
+  _Tommy._                                 And so are _you_!
+
+     [_Melancholy music; to which_ TOMMY _and_ _Jane_, _after a few
+     convulsive movements, gradually become inanimate. Enter old_
+     Farmer COPEER _from gate, carrying a large bottle labelled
+     “Cattle Medicine.”_
+
+  _Farmer C._ It’s time I gave the old bay mare her drench.
+
+        [_Stumbles over the children._
+
+    What’s here? A lifeless lad!--and little wench!
+    Been eating berries--where did they get _them_ idees?
+    For cows, when took so, I’ve the reg’lar remedies.
+    I’ll try ’em here--and if their state the worse is,
+    Why, they shall have them balls I give my ’erses!
+
+        [_Carries the bodies off just before the_ W. U. _re-enters_.
+
+  _W. U._ The children--gone? yon bush of berries less full!
+    Hooray, my little stratagem’s successful!
+
+        [_Dances a triumphant pas seul. Re-enter Farmer C._
+
+  _Farmer C._ Been looking for your little niece and nephew?
+
+  _The W. U._ Yes, searching for them everywhere--
+
+  _Farmer C._ (_ironically_).             Oh, _hev’_ you?
+    Then let me tell you, from all pain they’re free, Sir.
+
+  _The W. U._ (_falling on his knees_). _I_ didn’t poison them--it
+        wasn’t _me_, Sir!
+
+  _Farmer C._ I thought as much--a constable I’ll run for.
+
+        [_Exit._
+
+  _The W. U._ My wretched nerves again! _This_ time I’m done for!
+    Well, though I’m trapped, and useless all disguise is,
+    My case shall ne’er come on at the Assizes!
+
+     [_Rushes desperately to tree and crams himself with the
+     remaining berries, which produce an almost instantaneous
+     effect. Re-enter_ TOM _and_ JANE _from gate, looking pale and
+     limp. Terror of the_ Wicked Uncle _as he turns and recognises
+     them_.
+
+  _The W. U._ (_with tremulous politeness_). The shades of
+        Jane and Tommy, I presume?
+
+        [_Re-enter Farmer C._
+
+  _Jane and Tommy_ (_pointing to Farmer C._) His Cattle
+        Mixtures snatched us from the tomb!
+
+  _The W. U._ (_with a flicker of hope_). Why, then the self-same
+        drugs will ease _my_ torments!
+
+  _Farmer C._ (_chuckling_). Too late! they’ve drunk the lot,
+        the little vormints!
+
+  _The W. U._ (_bitterly_). So out of life I must inglorious wriggle,
+    Pursued by Tommy’s grin, and Jenny’s giggle!
+
+     [_Dies in great agony, while_ TOMMY, JANE, _and_ Farmer COPEER
+     _look on with mixed emotions as the Curtain falls_.
+
+
+
+
+XI.--THE RIVAL DOLLS.
+
+“Miss Jenny and Polly had each a new dolly.”--_Vide Poem._
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Miss Jenny_  } By the Sisters LEAMAR.
+    _Miss Polly_  }
+
+    _The Soldier Doll_ } By the Two ARMSTRONGS.
+    _The Sailor Doll_  }
+
+
+     SCENE--_A Nursery. Enter_ Miss JENNY _and_ Miss POLLY, _who
+     perform a blameless step-dance with an improving chorus_.
+
+    Oh, isn’t it jolly! we’ve each a new dolly,
+      And one is a Soldier, the other’s a Tar;
+    We’re fully contented with what’s been presented,
+      Such good little children we both of us are!
+
+     [_They dance up to a cupboard, from which they bring out two
+     large Dolls, which they place on chairs._
+
+  _Miss J._ _Don’t_ they look nice! Come, Polly, let us strive
+    To make ourselves believe that they’re alive!
+
+  _Miss P._ (_addressing_ Sailor D.). I’m glad you’re mine. I
+        dote on all that’s nautical.
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_opening his eyes suddenly_). Excuse me, Miss, your
+        sister’s more _my_ sort o’ gal.
+
+     [_Kisses his hand to_ Miss J., _who shrinks back, shocked and
+     alarmed_.
+
+  _Miss J._ Oh, Polly, _did_ you hear? I feel so shy!
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_with mild self-assertion_). _I_ can say “Pa” and
+        “Ma”--and wink my eye.
+
+     [_Does so at_ Miss P., _who runs in terror to_ Miss J.’s
+     _side_.
+
+  _Miss J._ Why, both are showing signs of animation.
+
+  _Miss P._ Who’d think we had such strong imagination!
+
+  _The Soldier Doll_ (_aside to the Sailor D._). I say, old fellow,
+        we have caught their fancy--
+    In each of us they now a real man see!
+    Let’s keep it up!
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_dubiously._) D’ye think as we can _do_ it?
+
+  _The Soldier D._ You stick by me, and I will see you through it.
+    Sit up, and turn your toes out,--don’t you loll;
+    Put on the Man, and drop the bloomin’ Doll!
+
+     [_The_ Sailor DOLL _pulls himself together, and rises from
+     chair importantly_.
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_in the manner of a Music-hall Chairman_)--
+
+    Ladies, with your kind leave, this gallant gent
+    Will now his military sketch present.
+
+     [Miss J. _and_ P. _applaud_: _the_ Soldier D., _after feebly
+     expostulating, is induced to sing_.
+
+_Song, by the_ Soldier Doll.
+
+    When I used to be displayed,
+    In the Burlington Arcade,
+    With artillery arrayed
+          Underneath.
+                Shoulder Hump
+
+    I imagine that I made
+    All the Lady Dolls afraid,
+    I should draw my battle-blade
+          From its sheath,
+                Shoulder Hump
+
+    For I’m Mars’s gallant son,
+    And my back I’ve shown to none,
+    Nor was ever seen to run
+          From the strife!
+                Shoulder Hump!
+
+    Oh, the battles I’d have won,
+    And the dashing deeds have done,
+    If I’d ever fired a gun
+          In my life!
+                Shoulder Hump!
+
+_Refrain (to be sung marching round Stage)._
+
+    By your right flank, Wheel!
+    Let the front rank kneel!
+    With the bristle of the steel
+          To the foe.
+    Till their regiments reel,
+    At our rattling peal,
+    And the military zeal
+          We show!
+
+[Illustration: “Shoulder Hump!”]
+
+        [_Repeat, with the whole company marching round after him._
+
+  _The Soldier Doll._ My friend will next oblige--this jolly Jack Tar.
+    Will give his song and chorus in charàck-tar!
+
+        [_Same business with_ Sailor D.
+
+_Song, by the_ Sailor Doll.
+
+    In costume I’m
+    So maritime,
+    You’d never suppose the fact is,
+    That with the Fleet
+    In Regent Street,
+    I’d precious little naval practice!
+    There was saucy craft,
+    Rigged fore an’ aft,
+    Inside o’ Mr. Cre-mer’s.
+    From Noah’s Arks to Clipper-built barques,
+    Like-wise mechanical stea-mers.
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    But to navigate the Serpentine,
+            Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy!
+    With clockwork, sails, or spirits of wine,
+            Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy!
+    I did respeckfully decline,
+    So I was left in port to pine,
+    Which wasn’t azactually the line
+    Of a rollicking Sailor Boy, Yeo-ho!
+    Of a rollicking Sailor Bo-oy!
+
+        Yes, there was lots
+        Of boats and yachts,
+        Of timber and of tin, too;
+        But one and all
+        Was far too small
+        For a doll o’ my size to get into
+        I was too big
+        On any brig
+        To ship without disas-ter,
+        And it wouldn’t never do
+        When the cap’n and the crew
+        Were a set ’o little swabs all plaster!
+
+_Chorus_--So to navigate the Serpentine, &c.
+
+    An Ark is p’raps
+    The berth for chaps
+    As is fond o’ Natural Hist’ry.
+    But I sez to Shem
+    And the rest o’ them,
+    “How you get along at all’s a myst’ry!
+    With a Wild Beast Show
+    Let loose below,
+    And four fe-males on deck too!
+    I never could agree
+    With your happy fami-lee,
+    And your lubberly ways I objeck to.”
+
+     [_Chorus. Hornpipe by the company, after which the_ Soldier
+     Doll _advances condescendingly to_ Miss JENNY.
+
+  _The Sold. D._ Invincible I’m reckoned by the Ladies,
+    But yield to you--though conquering my trade is!
+
+  _Miss J._ (_repulsing him_). Oh, go away, you great conceited thing,
+   you!
+
+        [_The_ Sold. D. _persists in offering her attentions._
+
+  _Miss P._ (_watching them bitterly_). To be deserted by one’s
+        doll _does_ sting you!
+
+        [_The_ Sailor D. _approaches._
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_to_ Miss P.) Let _me_ console you, Miss, a Sailor
+   Doll
+    As swears his ’art was ever true to Poll!
+
+(N.B.--_Good opportunity for Song here._)
+
+  _Miss P._ (_indignantly to_ Miss J.) Your Sailor’s teasing me to
+        be his idol!
+    Do make him stop--(_spitefully_)--When you’ve _quite_ done
+        with _my_ doll!
+
+  _Miss J._ (_scornfully._) If you suppose _I_ want your wretched
+   warrior,
+    I’m sorry _for_ you!
+
+  _Miss P._            I for you am sorrier.
+
+  _Miss J._ (_weeping_, R.). Polly preferred to me--what ignominy!
+
+  _Miss P._ (_weeping_, L.). My horrid Soldier jilting me for Jenny!
+
+        [_The two Dolls face one another_, C.
+
+  _Sailor D._ (_to_ Soldier D.). You’ve made her sluice her sky-lights
+        now, you swab!
+
+  _Soldier D._ (_to_ Sailor D.). As you have broke her heart, I’ll
+    break your nob!    [_Hits him._
+
+  _Sailor D._ (_in a pale fury_). This insult must be blotted out in
+   bran!
+
+  _Soldier D._ (_fiercely_). Come on, I’ll shed your sawdust--if I can!
+
+        [Miss J. _and_ P. _throw themselves between the combatants_.
+
+  _Miss J._ For any mess you make _we_ shall be scolded,
+    So wait until a drugget we’ve unfolded!
+
+        [_They lay down drugget on Stage._
+
+  _The Soldier D._ (_politely_). No hurry, Miss, _we_ don’t object
+        to waiting.
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_aside_). His valour--like my own--’s evaporating!
+    (_Defiantly to_ Soldier D.). On guard! You’ll see how soon
+        I’ll run you through!
+    (_Confidentially._) (If you will not prod _me_, I won’t pink
+     _you_.)
+
+  _The Soldier D._ Through your false kid my deadly blade I’ll pass!
+    (_Confidentially._) (Look here, old fellow, don’t you be a _hass_!)
+
+        [_They exchange passes at a considerable distance._
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_aside_). Don’t lose your temper now!
+
+  _Sold. D._        Don’t get excited.
+    Do keep a little farther off!
+
+  _Sail. D._                      Delighted!
+
+        [_Wounds_ Soldier D. _by misadventure._
+
+  _Sold. D._ (_annoyed_). There now, you’ve gone and made upon
+        my wax a dent!
+
+  _Sail. D._ Excuse me, it was really quite an accident.
+
+  _Sold. D._ (_savagely_). Such clumsiness would irritate a saint!
+
+        [_Stabs Sailor Doll._
+
+  _Miss J. and P._ (_imploringly_). Oh, stop! the sight of sawdust
+        turns us faint!
+
+        [_They drop into chairs, swooning._
+
+  _Sail. D._ I’ll pay you out for that!
+
+        [_Stabs Soldier D._
+
+  _Sold. D._                            Right through you’ve poked me!
+
+  _Sailor D._ So you have _me_!
+
+  _Sold. D._                  You shouldn’t have provoked me!
+
+        [_They fall transfixed._
+
+  _Sailor D._ (_faintly_). Alas, we have been led away by vanity.
+    Dolls shouldn’t try to imitate humanity!    [_Dies._
+
+  _Soldier D._ For, if they do, they’ll end like us, unpitied,
+    Each on the other’s sword absurdly spitted!
+
+     [_Dies._ Miss J. _and_ P. _revive, and bend sadly over the
+     corpses_.
+
+  _Miss Jenny._ From their untimely end we draw this moral,
+    How wrong it is, even for dolls, to quarrel!
+
+  _Miss Polly._ Yes, Jenny, in the fate of these poor fellows see
+    What sad results may spring from female jealousy!
+
+        [_They embrace penitently as Curtain falls._
+
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+CONRAD; OR, THE THUMBSUCKER.
+
+(_Adapted freely from a well-known Poem in the “Struwwelpeter.”_)
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Conrad (aged 6)._
+
+    _Conrad’s Mother(47)._
+
+    _The Scissorman (age immaterial)._
+
+
+     SCENE--_An Apartment in the house of_ CONRAD’S _Mother, window
+     in centre at back, opening upon a quiet thoroughfare. It is
+     dusk, and the room is lighted only by the reflected gleam from
+     the street-lamps._ CONRAD _discovered half-hidden by left
+     window-curtain._
+
+  _Conrad_ (_watching street_). Still there! For full an hour
+        he has not budged
+    Beyond the circle of yon lamp-post’s rays!
+    The gaslight falls upon his crimson hose,
+    And makes a steely glitter at his thigh,
+    While from the shadow peers a hatchet-face
+    And fixes sinister malignant eyes--
+    On whom? (_Shuddering._) I dare not trust myself to guess
+    And yet--ah, no--it cannot be myself!
+    I am so young--one is still young at six!--
+    What man can say that I have injured him?
+    Since, in my Mother’s absence all the day
+    Engaged upon Municipal affairs,
+    I peacefully beguile the weary hours
+    By suction of consolatory thumbs.
+
+     [_Here he inserts his thumb in his mouth, but almost instantly
+     removes it with a start._
+
+    Again I meet those eyes! I’ll look no more--
+    But draw the blind and shut my terror out.
+
+        [_Draws blind and lights candle; Stage lightens._
+
+    Heigho, I wish my Mother were at home!
+    (_Listening._) At last! I hear her latch-key in the door!
+
+     [_Enter_ CONRAD’S _Mother, a lady of strong-minded appearance,
+     rationally attired. She carries a large reticule full of
+     documents._
+
+  _Conrad’s M._ Would, Conrad, that you were of riper years,
+    So you might share your Mother’s joy to-day,
+    The day that crowns her long and arduous toil
+    As one of London’s County Councillors!
+
+  _Conrad._ Nay, speak; for though my mind be immature,
+    One topic still can charm my infant ear,
+    That ever craves the oft-repeated tale.
+    I love to hear of that august assembly
+
+        [_His Mother lifts her bonnet solemnly._
+
+    In which my Mother’s honoured voice is raised!
+
+  _C.’s M._ (_gratified_). Learn, Conrad, then, that, after many months
+    Of patient “lobbying” (you’ve heard the term?)
+    The measure by my foresight introduced
+    Has triumphed by a bare majority!
+
+  _Con._ My bosom thrills with dutiful delight--
+    Although I yet for information wait
+    As to the scope and purpose of the statute.
+
+  _C.’s M._ You show an interest so intelligent
+    That well deserves it should be satisfied,
+    Be seated, Conrad, at your Mother’s knee,
+    And you shall hear the full particulars.
+    You know how zealously I advocate
+    The sacred cause of Nursery Reform?
+    How through my efforts every infant’s toys
+    Are carefully inspected once a month----?
+
+  _Con._ (_wearily_). Nay, Mother, you forget--I _have_ no toys.
+
+  _C.’s M._ Which brings you under the exemption clause.
+    But--to resume; how Nursery Songs and Tales
+    Must now be duly licensed by our Censor,
+    And any deviation from the text
+    Forbidden under heavy penalties?
+    All that you know. Well; with concern of late,
+    I have remarked among our infancy
+    The rapid increase of a baneful habit
+    On which I scarce can bring my tongue to dwell.
+
+        [_The Stage darker; blind at back illuminated._
+
+    Oh, Conrad, there are children--think of it!--
+    So lost to every sense of decency
+    That, in mere wantonness or brainless sloth,
+    They obstinately suck forbidden thumbs!
+
+        [CONRAD _starts with irrepressible emotion._
+
+    Forgive me if I shock your innocence!
+    (_Sadly._) Such things exist--but soon shall cease to be,
+    Thanks to the measure we have passed to-day!
+
+  _Con._ (_with growing uneasiness_). But how can statutes
+        check such practices?
+
+  _C.’s M._ (_patting his head_). Right shrewdly questioned,
+        boy! I come to that.
+    Some timid sentimentalists advised
+    Compulsory restraint in woollen gloves,
+    Or the deterrent aid of bitter aloes.
+    _I_ saw the evil had too deep a seat
+    To yield to such half-hearted remedies.
+    No; we must cut, ere we could hope to cure!
+    Nay, interrupt me not; my Bill appoints
+    A new official, by the style and title
+    Of “London County Council Scissorman,”
+    For the detection of young “suck-a-thumbs.”
+
+     [_Here the shadow of a huge hand brandishing a gigantic pair of
+     shears appears upon the blind._
+
+  _Con._ (_hiding his face in his Mother’s lap._) Ah, Mother,
+    see!... the scissors!... On the blind!
+
+  _C.’s M._ Why, how you tremble! You’ve no cause to fear.
+    The shadow of his grim insignia
+    Should have no terror--save for thumb-suckers.
+
+  _Con._ And what for _them_?
+
+  _C.’s M._ (_complacently_). A doom devised by me--
+    The confiscation of the culprit thumbs.
+    Thus shall our statute cure while it corrects,
+    For those who have no thumbs can err no more.
+
+     [_The shadow slowly passes on the blind_, CONRAD _appearing
+     relieved at its departure. Loud knocking without. Both start to
+     their feet._
+
+  _C.’s M._ Who knocks so loud at such an hour as this?
+
+  _A Voice._ Open, I charge ye. In the Council’s name!
+
+  _C.’s M._ ’Tis the Official Red-legged Scissorman,
+    Who doubtless calls to thank me for the post.
+
+  _Con._ (_with a gloomy determination_). More like his business,
+        Madam, is with--Me!
+
+  _C.’s M._ (_suddenly enlightened_). A Suck-a-thumb? ... you, CONRAD?
+
+  _C._ (_desperately_). Ay,--from birth!
+
+     [_Profound silence, as Mother and Son face one another. The
+     knocking is renewed._
+
+  _C.’s M._ Oh, this is horrible--it must not be!
+    I’ll shoot the bolt and barricade the door.
+
+     [CONRAD _places himself before it, and addresses his Mother in
+     a tone of incisive irony_.
+
+  _Con._ Why, where is all the zeal you showed of late?
+    Is’t thus that you the Roman Matron play?
+    Trick not a statute of your own devising.
+    Come, your official’s waiting--let him in!
+
+        [C’s M. _shrinks back appalled_.
+
+    So? you refuse!--(_throwing open door_)--then--enter, Scissorman!
+
+     [_Enter the_ Scissorman, _masked and in red tights, with his
+     hand upon the hilt of his shears._
+
+  _The S._ (_in a passionless tone_). Though sorry to create
+        unpleasantness,
+    I claim the thumbs of this young gentleman,
+    Which these own eyes have marked between his lips.
+
+  _C.’s M._ (_frantically_). Thou minion of a meddling tyranny,
+    Go exercise thy loathsome trade elsewhere!
+
+  _The S._ (_civilly_). I’ve duties here that must be first performed.
+
+  _C.’s M._ (_wildly_). Take my two thumbs for his!
+
+  _The S._                                        ’Tis not the law--
+    Which is a model of lucidity.
+
+  _Con._ (_calmly_). Sir, you speak well. My thumbs are forfeited,
+    And they alone must pay the penalty.
+
+  _The S._ (_with approval_). Right! Step with me into the outer hall,
+    And have the business done without delay.
+
+  _C.’s M._ (_throwing herself between them._) Stay, I’m a
+        Councillor--this law was _mine_!
+    Hereby I do suspend the clause I drew.
+
+  _The S._ You should have drawn it milder.
+
+  _Con._                                    Must I teach
+    A parent laws were meant to be obeyed?
+      [_To Sc._] Lead on, Sir. (_To his Mother with cold courtesy._)
+        Madam,--may I trouble you?
+
+[Illustration: “My Conrad!”]
+
+     [_He thrusts her gently aside and passes out with the_ Sc.;
+     _the door is shut and fastened from without._ C.’s M. _rushes
+     to door which she attempts to force without success._
+
+  _C.’s M._ In vain I batter at a senseless door,
+    I’ll to the keyhole train my tortured ear.
+    (_Listening._) Dead silence! ... is it over--or, to come?
+    Hark! was not that the click of meeting shears?...
+    Again! and followed by the sullen thud
+    Of thumbs that drop upon linoleum!...
+
+     [_The door is opened and_ CONRAD _appears, pale but erect._
+     _N.B. The whole of this scene has been compared to one in “La
+     Tosca”--which, however, it exceeds in horror and intensity._
+
+  _C.’s M._ They send him back to me, bereft of both!
+    My CONRAD! What?--repulse a Mother’s Arms!
+
+  _Con._ (_with chilling composure_). Yes, Madam, for between us ever
+   more,
+    A barrier invisible is raised,
+    And should I strive to reach those arms again,
+    Two spectral thumbs would press me coldly back--
+    The thumbs I sucked in blissful ignorance,
+    The thumbs that solaced me in solitude,
+    The thumbs your County Council took from me,
+    And your endearments scarcely will replace!
+    Where, Madam, lay the sin in sucking them?
+    The dog will lick his foot, the cat her claw,
+    His paws sustain the hibernating bear--
+    And you decree no law to punish _them_!
+    Yet, in your rage for infantine reform,
+    You rushed this most ridiculous enactment--
+    Its earliest victim--your neglected son!
+
+  _C.’s M._ (_falling at his feet_). Say, CONRAD, you will some day
+  pardon me?
+
+  _Con._ (_bitterly, as he regards his maimed hands._) Aye--on the day
+these pollards send forth shoots!
+
+     [_His_ Mother _turns aside with a heartbroken wail_; CONRAD
+     _standing apart in gloomy estrangement as the Curtain
+     descends._
+
+
+
+
+BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Transcribers Notes:
+
+Some minor obvious punctuation and typographical errors have been
+corrected silently. Unclosed quotes have been left as they appear in
+the original.
+
+
+Changes made:
+
+    Pg 15 “With enthusiams [replaced with “enthusiasm”] We can make
+    a shift to do it”
+
+    Pg 66 “and the restless winds be mowning.” [replaced full stop
+    with comma]
+
+    Pg 95 “The Monster Man-trap steathily” [replaced with
+    “stealthily”]
+
+    Pg 128 “Even _this_ cannot shatter her alrtess [replaced with
+    “artless”] faith”
+
+    Pg 131 “If you please, Ladies and Gentlemen, my Grandmamma”
+    [replaced with “Grandmama” (used previously)]
+
+    Pg 156 “a constable I’ll run for, [replaced comma with full stop.]”
+
+
+Both versions of the following words were used in the text:
+
+    latchkey, latch-key
+    limelight, lime-light
+    sashline, sash-line
+    selfsame, self-same
+
+
+All uncertain hyphenation left hyphenated:
+
+    Pg 25  a-noma-lee
+    Pg 38  elec-tresses
+    Pg 99  Bed-chamber
+    Pg 115 low-born
+    Pg 120 Christmas-time
+    Pg 164 sky-lights
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR PUNCH’S MODEL MUSIC HALL ***
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+<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas, by 
+F. Anstey</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
+at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
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+country where you are located before using this eBook.
+</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas
+       Collected, Improved and Re-arranged from Punch</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: F. Anstey</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 4, 2012 [EBook #39045]<br>
+[Most recently updated: August 21, 2023]</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Clarke, Fulvia Hughes and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)</div>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL ***</div>
+
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 303px;">
+<a href="images/000a.jpg"><img src="images/000.jpg" width="303" height="600" alt="Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas" title=""></a>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="c25">
+
+<h1 class="size130 top4">MR. PUNCH'S<br>
+
+MODEL MUSIC-HALL<br>SONGS &amp; DRAMAS.</h1>
+
+
+<hr class="c25 top4">
+
+<h2 class="botm1 top4 sans size100">By F. ANSTEY.</h2>
+<hr class="c10">
+<h3 class="topm1 botm1 sans lh200">MR. PUNCH'S<br>
+YOUNG RECITER</h3>
+<hr class="c10">
+<p class="size80 center topm1"><b>Illustrated.<br>
+Price 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></b>
+</p>
+
+
+<hr class="c25">
+
+<p class="lh200 center xbig fwnorm">MR. PUNCH'S<br>
+
+<span class="size150"><span class="smcap">Model Music-Hall</span></span><br>
+
+SONGS &amp; DRAMAS.</p>
+
+<p class="top2 center"><b>Collected, Improved, and Re-Arranged</b></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">From</span> "PUNCH."</p>
+
+<h2 class="fwnorm top4"><span class="smcap">By</span> F. ANSTEY,</h2>
+<p class="center size80">AUTHOR OF "VICE VERSÂ," "MR. PUNCH'S YOUNG RECITER," &amp;C</p>
+
+<div class="top4">
+<hr class="c25">
+<p class="center topm1 botm1">With Illustrations.</p>
+<hr class="c25"></div>
+
+<p class="center top4">LONDON:<br>
+BRADBURY, AGNEW, &amp; CO. <span class="smcap">Ld</span>., 9, BOUVERIE ST., E.C.<br>
+1892.
+</p>
+
+<hr class="c25">
+
+<p class="center size80">LONDON<br>
+BRADBURY, AGNEW, &amp; CO. LD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="c65">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table class="autotable">
+<tr><td class="left">&nbsp;</td><td class="right"><span class="smcap"><small>Page</small></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left"><a href="#INTRODUCTION"><span class="smcap">Introduction</span></a></td><td class="right">3</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustrations.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2">SONGS.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">I.&mdash;<a href="#I_THE_PATRIOTIC"><span class="smcap">The Patriotic</span></a></td><td class="right">15</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">II.&mdash;<a href="#II_THE_TOPICAL-POLITICAL"><span class="smcap">The Topical-Political</span></a></td><td class="right">18</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">III.&mdash;<a href="#III_A_DEMOCRATIC_DITTY"><span class="smcap">A Democratic Ditty</span></a></td><td class="right">23</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">IV.&mdash;<a href="#IV_THE_IDYLLIC"><span class="smcap">The Idyllic</span></a></td><td class="right">27</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">V.&mdash;<a href="#V_THE_AMATORY_EPISODIC"><span class="smcap">The Amatory Episodic</span></a></td><td class="right">31</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">VI.&mdash;<a href="#VI_THE_CHIVALROUS"><span class="smcap">The Chivalrous</span></a></td><td class="right">37</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">VII.&mdash;<a href="#VII_THE_FRANKLY_CANAILLE"><span class="smcap">The Frankly Canaille</span></a></td><td class="right">40</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">VIII.&mdash;<a href="#VIII_THE_DRAMATIC_SCENA"><span class="smcap">The Dramatic Scena</span></a></td><td class="right">47</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">IX.&mdash;<a href="#IX_THE_DUETTISTS"><span class="smcap">The Duettists</span></a></td><td class="right">53</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">X.&mdash;<a href="#X_DISINTERESTED_PASSION"><span class="smcap">Disinterested Passion</span></a></td><td class="right">59</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">XI.&mdash;<a href="#XI_THE_PANEGYRIC_PATTER"><span class="smcap">The Panegyric Patter</span></a></td><td class="right">63</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">XII.&mdash;<a href="#XII_THE_PLAINTIVELY_PATHETIC"><span class="smcap">The Plaintively Pathetic</span></a></td><td class="right">69</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">XIII.&mdash;<a href="#XIII_THE_MILITARY_IMPERSONATOR"><span class="smcap">The Military Impersonator</span></a></td><td class="right">73</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2">DRAMAS.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">I.&mdash;<a href="#I_THE_LITTLE_CROSSING-SWEEPER"><span class="smcap">The Little Crossing-Sweeper</span></a></td><td class="right">79</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">II.&mdash;<a href="#II_JOE_THE_JAM-EATER"><span class="smcap">Joe, the Jam-eater</span></a></td><td class="right">86</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustrations.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">III.&mdash;<a href="#III_THE_MAN-TRAP"><span class="smcap">The Man-Trap</span></a></td><td class="right">93</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">IV.&mdash;<a href="#IV_THE_FATAL_PIN"><span class="smcap">The Fatal Pin</span></a></td><td class="right">99</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">V.&mdash;<a href="#V_BRUNETTE_AND_BLANCHIDINE"><span class="smcap">Brunette and Blanchidine</span></a></td><td class="right">106</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">VI.&mdash;<a href="#VI_COMING_OF_AGE"><span class="smcap">Coming of Age</span></a></td><td class="right">113</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">VII.&mdash;<a href="#VII_RECLAIMED"><span class="smcap">Reclaimed!</span></a></td><td class="right">120</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustrations.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">VIII.&mdash;<a href="#VIII_JACK_PARKER"><span class="smcap">Jack Parker.</span></a></td><td class="right">132</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">IX.&mdash;<a href="#IX_UNDER_THE_HARROW"><span class="smcap">Under the Harrow</span></a></td><td class="right">139</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustrations.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">X.&mdash;<a href="#X_TOMMY_AND_HIS_SISTER_JANE"><span class="smcap">Tommy and his Sister Jane</span></a></td><td class="right">151</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustrations.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">XI.&mdash;<a href="#XI_THE_RIVAL_DOLLS"><span class="smcap">The Rival Dolls</span></a></td><td class="right">158</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left">XII.&mdash;<a href="#XII_CONRAD_OR_THE_THUMBSUCKER"><span class="smcap">Conrad; or, the Thumbsucker</span></a></td><td class="right">166</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="2"><span class="p2"><i>Illustration.</i></span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<p class="top2 center">[<i>The Illustrations are by Edward T. Reed; with others from "Punch."</i>]</p>
+
+
+<hr class="c65">
+
+<p class="center xbig">MODEL MUSIC HALL.</p>
+
+<h2>INTRODUCTION.
+</h2>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 404px;">
+<a href="images/010a.jpg"><img src="images/010.jpg" width="404" height="493" alt="Music Hall Proprietor." title="">
+</a><span class="caption smcap">Music Hall Proprietor.</span>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="c65">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> day is approaching, and may even now be
+within measurable distance, when the Music Halls
+of the Metropolis will find themselves under yet more
+stringent supervision than is already exercised by
+those active and intelligent guardians of middle-class
+morality, the London County Council. The moral
+microscope which detected latent indecency in the
+pursuit of a butterfly by a marionette is to be provided
+with larger powers, and a still more extended
+field. In other words, our far-sighted and vigilant
+County Councilmen, perceiving the futility of delaying
+the inspection of Variety Entertainments until
+such improprieties as are contained therein have
+been suffered to contaminate the public mind for a considerable
+period, are determined to nip these poison-flowers
+in the bud for the future; and, unless Mr.
+Punch is misinformed, will apply to Parliament at
+the earliest opportunity for clauses enabling them to
+require each item in every forthcoming performance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>
+to be previously submitted to a special committee for
+sanction and approval.</p>
+
+<p>The conscientious rigour with which they will discharge
+this new and congenial duty may perhaps be
+better understood after perusing the little prophetic
+sketch which follows; for Mr. Punch's Poet, when not
+employed in metrical composition, is a Seer of some
+pretensions in a small way, and several of his predictions
+have already been shamelessly plagiarised by
+the unscrupulous hand of Destiny. It is not improbable
+that this latest effort of his will receive a
+similar compliment, although this would be more
+gratifying if Destiny ever condescended to acknowledge
+such obligations. However, here is the forecast
+for what it is worth, a sum of incalculable amount:&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<h3>POETIC LICENCES.</h3>
+
+<h5>A VISION OF THE NEAR FUTURE.</h5>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>A Committee-room of the L. C. C.; Sub-Committee of
+Censors, (appointed, under new regulations, to report on
+all songs intended to be sung on the Music-hall Stage,)
+discovered in session.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. Wheedler</i> (<i>retained for the Ballad-writers</i>). The next
+licence I have to apply for is for&mdash;well, (<i>with some hesitation</i>)&mdash;a
+composition which certainly borders on the&mdash;er&mdash;amorous&mdash;but
+I think, Sir, you will allow that it is treated in a purely
+pastoral and Arcadian spirit.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Chairman</i> (<i>gravely</i>). There <i>are</i> arcades, Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>
+Wheedler, I may remind you, which are by no means pastoral.
+I cannot too often repeat that we are here to fulfil the mission
+entrusted to us by the Democracy, which will no longer
+tolerate in its entertainments anything that is either vulgar,
+silly, or offensive in the slightest degree.      <span class="p2">[<i>Applause.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. Wheedler.</i> Quite so. With your permission, Sir, I
+will read you the Ballad.           <span class="p2">[<i>Reads.</i></span></p>
+
+
+<h4>"MOLLY AND I.</h4>
+
+<p><span class="p4">"Oh! the day shall be marked in red letter&mdash;&mdash;"</span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Chairman.</i> One moment, Mr. Wheedler, (<i>conferring
+with his colleagues</i>). "Marked with red letter"&mdash;isn't that
+a little&mdash;eh? liable to&mdash;&mdash;You don't think they'll have
+read Hawthorne's book? Very well, then. Go on, Mr.
+Wheedler, please.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> <span class="p1">"'Twas warm, with a heaven so blue."</span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>First Censor.</i> Can't pass those two epithets&mdash;you must
+tone them down, Mr. Wheedler&mdash;<i>much</i> too suggestive!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> That shall be done.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Chairman.</i> And it ought to be "sky."</p>
+
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Mr. W.</i>  <span class="p1">"When amid the lush meadows I met her,</span><br>
+<span class="p8">My Molly, so modest and true!"</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Second Censor.</i> I object to the word "lush"&mdash;a direct
+incitement to intemperance!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> I'll strike it out. (<i>Reads.</i>)</p>
+
+<p>
+<span class="p4">"Around us the little kids rollicked,</span><br>
+<span class="p4">Lighthearted were all the young lambs&mdash;&mdash;"</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Second Censor.</i> Surely "kids" is <i>rather</i> a vulgar expression,
+Mr. Wheedler? Make it "<i>children</i>," and I've no objection.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> I have made it so. (<i>Reads.</i>)</p>
+
+<p>
+<span class="p4">"They kicked up their legs as they frolicked"&mdash;&mdash;</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Third Censor.</i> If that is intended to be done on the stage,
+I protest most strongly&mdash;a highly indecorous exhibition!      <span class="p2">[<i>Murmurs of approval.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> But they're only lambs!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Third Censor.</i> Lambs, indeed! We are determined to
+put down <i>all</i> kicking in Music-hall songs, no matter <i>who</i> does
+it! Strike that line out.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> (<i>reading</i>). <span class="p1">"And frisked by the side of their
+dams."</span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>First Censor</i> (<i>severely</i>). No profanity, Mr. Wheedler, <i>if</i>
+you please!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> Er&mdash;I'll read you the Refrain. (<i>Reads, limply.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+<span class="p1">"Molly and I. With nobody nigh.</span><br>
+<span class="p2">Hearts all a-throb with a rapturous bliss,</span><br>
+<span class="p1">Molly was shy. And (at first) so was I,</span><br>
+<span class="p2">Till I summoned up courage to ask for a kiss!"</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Chairman.</i> "Nobody nigh," Mr. Wheedler? I don't
+quite like that. The Music Hall ought to set a good example
+to young persons. "Molly and I&mdash;<i>with her chaperon by</i>," is
+better.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Second Censor.</i> And that last line&mdash;"asking for a kiss"&mdash;does
+the song state that they were formally engaged, Mr.
+Wheedler?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> I&mdash;I believe it omits to mention the fact. But
+(<i>ingeniously</i>) it does not appear that the request was complied
+with.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Second Censor.</i> No matter&mdash;it should never have been
+made. Have the goodness to alter that into&mdash;well, something
+of this kind. "And I always addressed her politely as
+"Miss." Then we <i>may</i> pass it.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> (<i>reading the next verse</i>).</p>
+
+<p>
+<span class="p7">"She wore but a simple sun-bonnet."</span><br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>First Censor</i> (<i>shocked</i>). Now really, Mr. Wheedler, <i>really</i>,
+Sir!</p>
+
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Mr. W.</i>    <span class="p1">"For Molly goes plainly attired."</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>First Censor</i> (<i>indignantly</i>). I should think so&mdash;<i>Scandalous</i>!</p>
+
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Mr. W.</i> <span class="p1">"Malediction I muttered upon it,</span><br>
+<span class="p7">One glimpse of her face I desired."</span>
+</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 344px;">
+<a href="images/015a.jpg"><img src="images/015.jpg" width="344" height="440" alt="Licensing Day." title="">
+</a><span class="caption">Licensing Day.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Chairman.</i> I think my colleague's exception is perhaps
+just a <i>leetle</i> far-fetched. At all events, if we substitute for the
+last couplet,</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+"Her dress is sufficient&mdash;though on it<br>
+She only spends what is strictly required."
+</p>
+
+<p>Eh, Mr. Wheedler? Then we work in a moral as well, you
+see, and avoid malediction, which can only mean bad language.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> (<i>doubtfully</i>). With all respect, I submit that it
+doesn't scan quite so well&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Chairman</i> (<i>sharply</i>). <i>I</i> venture to think scansion may
+be sacrificed to propriety, <i>occasionally</i>, Mr. Wheedler&mdash;but
+pray go on.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> (<i>continuing</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+"To a streamlet we rambled together.<br>
+<span class="p1">I carried her tenderly o'er.</span><br>
+In my arms&mdash;she's as light as a feather&mdash;<br>
+<span class="p1">That sweetest of burdens I bore!"</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>First Censor.</i> I really <i>must</i> protest. No properly conducted
+young woman would ever have permitted such a thing. You
+must alter that, Mr. Wheedler!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Second C.</i> And I don't know&mdash;but I rather fancy there's a
+"double-intender" in that word "light"&mdash;(<i>to colleague</i>)&mdash;it
+strikes me&mdash;eh?&mdash;what do <i>you</i> think?&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Chairman</i> (<i>in a conciliatory manner</i>). I am inclined to
+agree to some extent&mdash;not that I consider the words particularly
+objectionable in themselves, but we are men of the
+world, Mr. Wheedler, and as such we cannot shut our eyes to
+the fact that a Music-hall audience is only too apt to find
+significance in many apparently innocent expressions and
+phrases.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> But, Sir, I understood from your remarks recently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>
+that the Democracy were strongly opposed to anything in the
+nature of suggestiveness!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Ch.</i> Exactly so; and therefore we cannot allow their
+susceptibilities to be shocked. (<i>With a severe jocosity.</i>) Molly
+and you, Mr. Wheedler, must either ford the stream like
+ordinary persons, or stay where you are.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> (<i>depressed</i>). I may as well read the last verse, I
+suppose:</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+"Then under the flickering willow<br>
+<span class="p1">I lay by the rivulet's brink,</span><br>
+With her lap for a sumptuous pillow&mdash;&mdash;"
+</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>First Censor.</i> We can't have that. It is really <i>not</i>
+respectable.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Ch.</i> (<i>pleasantly</i>). Can't we alter it slightly? "I'd
+brought a small portable pillow." No objection to <i>that</i>!</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right">[<i>The other Censors express dissent in undertones.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Mr. W.</i>    <span class="p1">"Till I owned that I longed for a drink."</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Third C.</i> No, no! "A drink"! We all know what <i>that</i>
+means&mdash;alcoholic stimulant of some kind. At all events
+that's how the audience are certain to take it.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> (<i>feebly</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+"So Molly her pretty hands hollowed<br>
+<span class="p1">Into curves like an exquisite cup,</span><br>
+And draughts so delicious I swallowed,<br>
+<span class="p1">That rivulet nearly dried up!"</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Third C.</i> Well, Mr. Wheedler, you're not going to defend
+<i>that</i>, I hope?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> I'm not prepared to deny that it is silly&mdash;<i>very</i>
+silly&mdash;but hardly&mdash;er&mdash;vulgar, I should have thought?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Third C.</i> That is a question of taste, which we won't
+dispute. <i>I</i> call it <i>distinctly</i> vulgar. Why can't he drink out
+of his <i>own</i> hands?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Ch.</i> (<i>blandly</i>). Allow me. How would <i>this</i> do for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
+second line? "She had a collapsible cup." A good many
+people <i>do</i> carry them. I have one myself. Is that all of
+your Ballad, Mr. Wheedler?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> (<i>with great relief.</i>) That <i>is</i> all, Sir.</p>
+<blockquote><p class="right">[<i>Censors withdraw, to consider the question.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Ch.</i> (<i>after consultation with colleagues</i>). We have
+carefully considered this song, and we are all reluctantly of
+opinion that we cannot, consistently with our duty, recommend
+the Council to license it&mdash;even with the alterations my
+colleagues and myself have gone somewhat out of our way to
+suggest. The whole subject is too dangerous for a hall in
+which young persons of both sexes are likely to be found
+assembled; and the absence of any distinct assertion that the
+young couple&mdash;Molly and&mdash;ah&mdash;the gentleman who narrates
+the experience&mdash;are betrothed, or that their attachment is, in
+any way, sanctioned by their parents or guardians, is quite
+fatal. If we have another Ballad of a similar character
+from the same quarter, Mr. Wheedler, I feel bound to warn
+you that we may possibly consider it necessary to advise that
+the poet's licence should be cancelled altogether.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mr. W.</i> I will take care to mention it to my client, Sir. I
+understand it is his intention to confine himself to writing
+Gaiety burlesques in future.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Ch.</i> A very laudable resolution! I hope he will keep
+it.      <span class="p2">[<i>Scene closes in.</i></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="top4">It is hardly possible that any Music-hall Manager
+or vocalist, irreproachable as he may hitherto have
+considered himself, can have taken this glimpse into
+a not very remote futurity without symptoms of uneasiness,
+if not of positive dismay. He will reflect
+that the ballad of "Molly and I," however repre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>hensible
+it may appear in the fierce light of an L. C.
+C. Committee Room, is innocuous, and even moral,
+compared to the ditties in his own <i>répertoire</i>. How,
+then, can he hope, when his hour of trial strikes, to
+confront the ordeal with an unruffled shirt-front, or a
+collar that shall retain the inflexibility of conscious
+innocence? And he will wish then that he
+had confined himself to the effusions of a bard
+who could not be blamed by the most censorious
+moralist.</p>
+
+<p>Here, if he will only accept the warning in time,
+is his best safeguard. He has only to buy this little
+volume, and inform his inquisitors that the songs
+and business with which he proposes to entertain an
+ingenuous public are derived from the immaculate
+pages of Mr. Punch. Whereupon censure will be
+instantly disarmed and criticism give place to congratulation.
+It is just possible, to be sure, that this
+somewhat confident prediction smacks rather of the
+Poet than the Seer, and that even the entertainment
+supplied by Mr. Punch's Music Hall may, to the
+Purist's eye, present features as suggestive as a
+horrid vulgar clown, or as shocking as a butterfly,
+an insect notorious for its frivolity. But then,
+so might the "songs and business" of the performing
+canary, or the innocent sprightliness of the
+educated flea, with its superfluity of legs, all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+absolutely unclad. At all events, the compiler of
+this collection ventures to hope that, whether it is
+fortunate enough to find favour or not with Music-hall
+"artistes," literary critics, and London County
+Councilmen, it contains nothing particularly objectionable
+to the rest of the British Public. And
+very likely, even in this modest aspiration, he is
+over-sanguine, and his little joke will be taken
+seriously. Earnestness is so alarmingly on the increase
+in these days.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 309px;">
+<a href="images/020a.jpg"><img src="images/020.jpg" width="309" height="317" alt="dog on leash" title="">
+</a></div>
+
+<hr class="c65">
+
+
+<h2 class="sec1">
+MODEL MUSIC HALL.
+</h2>
+
+<hr class="c10">
+<h2 class="sec2">
+SONGS.</h2>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="c25">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 234px;">
+<a href="images/022a.jpg"><img src="images/022.jpg" width="234" height="491" alt="The Patriotic." title="">
+</a><span class="caption smcap">The Patriotic.</span>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="I_THE_PATRIOTIC" id="I_THE_PATRIOTIC"></a><span class="smcap">i.</span>&mdash;THE PATRIOTIC</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">This</span> stirring ditty&mdash;so thoroughly sound and practical
+under all its sentiment&mdash;has been specially designed to
+harmonise with the recently altered tone of Music-hall
+audiences, in which a spirit of enlightened Radicalism is at
+last happily discernible. It is hoped that, both in rhyme and
+metre, the verses will satisfy the requirements of this most
+elegant form of composition. The song is intended to be
+shouted through music in the usual manner by a singer in
+evening dress, who should carry a small Union Jack carelessly
+thrust inside his waistcoat. The title is short but taking:&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<h4>ON THE CHEAP!</h4>
+
+
+<p class="p8"><i>First Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+<span class="smcap">Of</span> a Navy insufficient cowards croak, deah boys!<br>
+If our place among the nations we're to keep.<br>
+But with British beef, and beer, and hearts of oak, deah boys!&mdash;<br>
+(<i>With enthusiasm.</i>) We can make a shift to do it&mdash;On the Cheap!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="top2 p10"><i>Chorus.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+(<i>With a common-sense air</i>.) Let us keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>While Britannia is the boss upon the deep,<br>
+She can wollop an invader, when he comes in his Armada,<br>
+If she's let alone to do it&mdash;On the Cheap!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Second Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+(<i>Affectionately.</i>) Johnny Bull is just as plucky as he <i>was</i>, deah boys!<br>
+(<i>With a knowing wink.</i>) And he's wide awake&mdash;no error!&mdash;not asleep;<br>
+But he won't stump up for ironclads&mdash;becos, deah boys!<br>
+He don't see his way to get 'em&mdash;On the Cheap!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Chorus.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+So keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,<br>
+(<i>Gallantly.</i>) And we'll chance what may happen on the deep!<br>
+For we can't be the losers if we save the cost o' cruisers,<br>
+And contentedly continue&mdash;On the Cheap!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Third Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+The British Isles are not the Conti-nong, deah boys!<br>
+(<i>Scornfully.</i>) Where the Johnnies on defences spend a heap.<br>
+No! we're Britons, and we're game to jog along, deah boys!<br>
+(<i>With pathos.</i>) In the old time-honoured fashion&mdash;On the Cheap!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Chorus.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+(<i>Imploringly.</i>) Ah! keep, deah boys! On the Cheap;<br>
+For the price we're asked to pay is pretty steep.<br>
+Let us all unite to dock it, keep the money in our pocket,<br>
+And we'll conquer or we'll perish&mdash;On the Cheap!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Fourth Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+If the Tories have the cheek to touch our purse, deah boys!<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>Their reward at the elections let 'em reap!<br>
+They will find a big Conservative reverse, deah boys!<br>
+If they can't defend the country&mdash;On the Cheap!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Chorus.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+They must keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,<br>
+Or the lot out of office we will sweep!<br>
+Bull gets rusty when you tax him, and his patriotic maxim<br>
+Is, "I'll trouble you to govern&mdash;On the Cheap!"
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>Fifth Verse</i> (<i>this to be sung shrewdly</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+If the Gover'ment ain't mugs they'll take the tip, deah boys!<br>
+Just to look a bit ahead before they leap,<br>
+And instead of laying down an extry ship, deah boys!<br>
+They'll cut down the whole caboodle&mdash;On the Cheap!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>Chorus</i> (<i>with spirit and fervour</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+And keep, deah boys! On the Cheap!<br>
+For we ain't like a bloomin' lot o' sheep.<br>
+When we want to "parry bellum,"<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a><br>
+<span class="p8">[<i>Union Jack to be waved here.</i></span><br>
+You may bet yer boots we'll tell 'em!<br>
+But we'll have the "bellum" "parried"&mdash;On the Cheap!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="top4">This song, if sung with any spirit, should, <i>Mr. Punch</i>
+thinks, cause a positive <i>furore</i> in any truly patriotic gathering,
+and possibly go some way towards influencing the
+decision of the country, and consequently the fate of the
+Empire, in the next General Elections. In the meantime it
+is at the service of any Champion Music Hall Comique who
+is capable of appreciating it.</p>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Music-hall Latinity&mdash;"<i>Para bellum</i>."</p></div>
+
+
+
+<hr class="c25">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="II_THE_TOPICAL-POLITICAL" id="II_THE_TOPICAL-POLITICAL"></a><span class="smcap">ii.</span>&mdash;THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL.</h2>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;">
+<a href="images/026a.jpg"><img src="images/026.jpg" width="200" height="407" alt="&quot;&mdash;And the Post!&quot;" title="">
+</a><span class="caption">&quot;&mdash;And the Post!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">In</span> most respects, no doubt,
+the present example can
+boast no superiority to ditties
+in the same style now
+commanding the ear of the
+public. One merit, however,
+its author does claim
+for it. Though it deals with
+most of the burning questions
+of the hour, it can be
+sung anywhere with absolute
+security. This is due to a
+simple but ingenious method
+by which the political sentiment
+has been arranged on
+the reversible principle. A
+little alteration here and
+there will put the singer in
+close touch with an audience
+of almost any shade of politics.
+Should it happen that
+the title has been already
+anticipated, <i>Mr. Punch</i> begs
+to explain that the remainder
+of this sparkling composition is entirely original; any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
+similarity with previous works must be put down entirely
+to "literary coincidence." Whether the title is new or not,
+it is a very nice one, viz:&mdash;</p>
+
+<h4 class="wrap">BETWEEN YOU AND ME&mdash;AND
+THE POST.</h4>
+
+
+<p>(<i>To be sung in a raucous voice, and with a confidential air.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+<span class="smcap">I've</span> dropped in to whisper some secrets I've heard.<br>
+<span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!</span><br>
+Picked up on the wing by a 'cute little bird.<br>
+We are gentlemen 'ere&mdash;so the caution's absurd,<br>
+Still, you'll please to remember that every word<br>
+<span class="p5">Is between you and me and the Post!</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>Chorus</i> (<i>to which the singer should dance</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Between you and me and the Post! An 'int is sufficient at most.<br>
+I'd very much rather this didn't go farther, than 'tween you and me and the Post!
+</p>
+
+<p class="p4 top2">
+At Lord Sorlsbury's table there's sech a to-do.<br>
+<span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!</span><br>
+When he first ketches sight of his dinner <i>menoo</i>,<br>
+And sees he's set down to good old Irish stoo&mdash;<br>
+Which he's sick of by this time&mdash;now, tell me, ain't <i>you</i>?<br>
+<span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim"><i>(This happy and pointed allusion to the Irish Question is
+sure to provoke loud laughter from an audience of Radical
+sympathies. For Unionists, the words </i>"Lord Sorlsbury's"<i>
+can be altered by our patent reversible method
+into "the </i>G. O. M.'s,"<i> without at all impairing the satire.)
+Chorus, as before.</i></p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="p4 top2">
+The G. O. M.'s hiding a card up his sleeve.<br>
+<span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!</span><br>
+Any ground he has lost he is going to retrieve,<br>
+And what <i>his</i> little game is, he'll let us perceive,<br>
+And he'll pip the whole lot of 'em, so I believe,<br>
+<span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (<i>Chorus.</i>)</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">(<i>The hit will be made quite as palpably for the other side by
+substituting</i> "Lord Sorlsbury's," <i>&amp;c., at the beginning of
+the first line, should the majority of the audience be found
+to hold Conservative views.</i>)</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 top2">
+Little Randolph won't long be left out in the cold.<br>
+<span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!</span><br>
+If they'll let him inside the Conservative fold,<br>
+He has promised no longer he'll swagger and scold,<br>
+But to be a good boy, and to do as he's told,<br>
+<span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (<i>Chorus.</i>)</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">(<i>The mere mention of</i> Lord Randolph's <i>name is sufficient to
+ensure the success of any song.</i>)</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 top2">
+Joey Chamberlain's orchid's a bit overblown,<br>
+<span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim midquote">(<i>This is rather subtle, perhaps, but an M.-H. audience will
+see a joke in it somewhere, and laugh.</i>)</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+'Ow to square a round table I'm sure he has shown.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim midquote">(<i>Same observation applies here.</i>)</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+But of late he's been leaving his old friends alone,<br>
+And I fancy he's grinding an axe of his own,<br>
+<span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (<i>Chorus.</i>)</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim top2">(<i>We now pass on to Topics of the Day, which we treat in a
+light but trenchant fashion.</i>)</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+On the noo County Councils they've too many nobs,<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span><span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!</span><br>
+For the swells stick together, and sneer at the mobs;<br>
+And it's always the rich man the poor one who robs.<br>
+We shall 'ave the old business&mdash;all jabber and jobs!<br>
+<span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (<i>Chorus.</i>)</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">(N.B.&mdash;<i>This verse should not be read to the L. C. C. who
+might miss the fun of it.</i>)</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 top2">
+There's a new rule for ladies presented at Court,<br>
+<span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!</span><br>
+High necks are allowed, so no colds will be cort,<br>
+But I went to the droring-room lately, and thort<br>
+Some old wimmen had dressed quite as low as they <i>ort</i>!<br>
+<span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (<i>Chorus.</i>)</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p4 top2">
+By fussy alarmists we're too much annoyed,<br>
+<span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!</span><br>
+If we don't want our neighbours to think we're afroid,<br>
+
+<span class="p8">[<i>M.-H. rhyme.</i></span>
+
+<br>
+Spending dibs on defence we had better avoid.<br>
+And give 'em instead to the poor unemployed.<br>
+
+<span class="p8">[<i>M.-H. political economy.</i></span>
+<br>
+<span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (<i>Chorus.</i>)</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p4 top2">
+This style of perlitical singing ain't hard,<br>
+<span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!</span><br>
+As a "Mammoth Comique" on the bills I am starred,<br>
+And, so long as I'm called, and angcored, and hurrar'd,<br>
+I can rattle off rubbish like this by the yard,<br>
+<span class="p5">Between you and me and the Post!</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>Chorus, and dance off to sing the same song</i>&mdash;<i>with or without
+alterations</i>&mdash;<i>in another place.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<hr class="c65">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 290px;">
+<a href="images/030a.jpg"><img src="images/030.jpg" width="290" height="510" alt="A Democratic Ditty." title="">
+</a><span class="caption smcap">A Democratic Ditty.</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="III_A_DEMOCRATIC_DITTY" id="III_A_DEMOCRATIC_DITTY"></a><span class="smcap">iii.</span>&mdash;A DEMOCRATIC DITTY.</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> following example, although it gives a not wholly inadequate
+expression to what are understood to be the loftier
+aspirations of the most advanced and earnest section of the
+New Democracy, should not be attempted, as <i>yet</i>, before a
+West-End audience. In South or East London, the sentiment
+and philosophy of the song may possibly excite rapturous
+enthusiasm; in the West-End, though the tone is
+daily improving, they are not educated quite up to so exalted
+a level at present. Still, as an experiment in proselytism, it
+might be worth risking, even there. The title it bears is:&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<h4>GIVEN AWAY&mdash;WITH A POUND
+OF TEA!</h4>
+
+
+<p class="p6"><span class="smcap">Verse I.</span>&mdash;(<i>Introductory.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+<span class="smcap">Some</span> Grocers have taken to keeping a stock<br>
+Of ornaments&mdash;such as a vase, or a clock&mdash;<br>
+With a ticket on each where the words you may see:<br>
+"To be given away&mdash;with a Pound of Tea!"
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Chorus</i> (<i>in waltz time</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+<span class="p6">"Given away!"</span><br>
+<span class="p6">That's what they say.</span><br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>Gratis&mdash;a present it's offered you free.<br>
+<span class="p6">Given away.</span><br>
+<span class="p6">With nothing to pay,</span><br>
+"Given away&mdash;[<i>tenderly</i>]&mdash;with a Pound of Tea!"
+</p>
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><span class="smcap">Verse II.</span>&mdash;(<i>Containing the moral reflection.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Now, the sight of those tickets gave me an idear.<br>
+What it set me a-thinking you're going to 'ear:<br>
+I thought there were things that would possibly be<br>
+Better given away&mdash;with a Pound of Tea!
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;"Given away." So much as to say, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim top2"><span class="smcap">Verse III.</span>&mdash;(<i>This, as being rather personal than general in its
+application, may need some apology. It is really put in
+as a graceful concession to the taste of an average Music-hall
+audience, who like to be assured that the Artists
+who amuse them are as unfortunate as they are erratic in
+their domestic relations.</i>)</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="p2">
+Now, there's my old Missus who sits up at 'ome&mdash;<br>
+And when I sneak <i>up</i>-stairs my 'air she will comb,&mdash;<br>
+I don't think I'd call it bad business if <i>she</i><br>
+Could be given away&mdash;with a Pound of Tea!
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;"Given away!" That's what they say, &amp;c.
+<span class="p2">[<i>Mutatis mutandis.</i></span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim top2"><span class="smcap">Verse IV.</span>&mdash;(<i>Flying at higher game. The social satire here is
+perhaps almost too good-natured, seeing what intolerable
+pests all Peers are to the truly Democratic mind. But we
+must walk before we can run. Good-humoured contempt
+will do very well, for the present.</i>)</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="p2">
+Fair Americans snap up the pick of our Lords.<br>
+It's a practice a sensible Briton applords.<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
+<span class="p8">[<i>This will check any groaning at the mention of Aristocrats.</i></span><br>
+Far from grudging our Dooks to the pretty Yan-kee,&mdash;<br>
+(<i>Magnanimously</i>) Why, we'd give 'em away&mdash;with a Pound of Tea!
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8"><i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Give 'em away! So we all say, &amp;c.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p6 top2"><span class="smcap">Verse V.</span>&mdash;(<i>More frankly Democratic still.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+To-wards a Republic we're getting on fast;<br>
+Many old Institootions are things of the past.<br>
+(<i>Philosophically</i>) Soon the Crown 'll go, too, as an a-noma-lee,<br>
+And be given away&mdash;with a Pound of Tea!
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;"Given away!" Some future day, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim top2"><span class="smcap">Verse VI.</span>&mdash;(<i>Which expresses the peaceful proclivities of the
+populace with equal eloquence and wisdom. A welcome
+contrast to the era when Britons had a bellicose and immoral
+belief in the possibility of being called upon to
+defend themselves at some time!</i>)</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="p2">
+We've made up our minds&mdash;though the Jingoes may jor&mdash;<br>
+Under no provocation to drift into war!<br>
+So the best thing to do with our costly Na-vee<br>
+Is&mdash;Give each ship away, with a Pound of Tea!
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Give 'em away, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim top2"><span class="smcap">Verse VII.</span>&mdash;(<i>We cannot well avoid some reference to the
+Irish Question in a Music-hall ditty, but observe the
+logical and statesmanlike method of treating it here.
+The argument&mdash;if crudely stated&mdash;is borrowed from some
+advanced by our foremost politicians.</i>)</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="p2">
+We've also discovered at last that it's crule<br>
+To deny the poor Irish their right to 'Ome Rule!<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
+So to give 'em a Parlyment let us agree&mdash;<br>
+(<i>Rationally</i>) Or they may blow us up with a Pound of their "Tea"!
+</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="p8">[<i>A euphemism which may possibly be remembered and
+understood.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p8"><i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Give it away, &amp;c.</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim top2"><span class="smcap">Verse VIII.</span> (<i>culminating in a glorious prophetic burst of the
+Coming Dawn</i>).</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Iniquitous burdens and rates we'll relax:<br>
+For each "h" that's pronounced we will clap on a tax!<br>
+<span class="p8">[<i>A very popular measure.</i></span><br>
+And a house in Belgraveyer, with furniture free,<br>
+Shall each Soshalist sit in, a taking his tea!
+</p>
+
+<p class="top2">
+<i>Chorus, and dance off.</i>&mdash;Given away! Ippipooray! Gratis we'll get it for nothing and free!<br>
+Given away! Not a penny to pay! Given away!&mdash;with a Pound of Tea!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="top4">If this Democratic Dream does not appeal favourably to the
+imagination of the humblest citizen, the popular tone must
+have been misrepresented by many who claim to act as its
+chosen interpreters&mdash;a supposition <i>Mr. Punch</i> must decline
+to entertain for a single moment.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="c25"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="IV_THE_IDYLLIC" id="IV_THE_IDYLLIC"></a><span class="smcap">iv.</span>&mdash;THE IDYLLIC.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> following ballad will not be found above the heads of
+an average audience, while it is constructed to suit the
+capacities of almost any lady <i>artiste</i>.</p>
+
+
+<h4>SO SHY!</h4>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim"><i>The singer should, if possible, be of mature age, and incline to
+a comfortable embonpoint. As soon as the bell has given
+the signal for the orchestra to attack the prelude, she will
+step upon the stage with that air of being hung on wires,
+which seems to come from a consciousness of being a
+favourite of the public.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="p4">
+<span class="smcap">I'm</span> a dynety little dysy of the dingle,<br>
+<span class="p6">[<i>Self-praise is a great recommendation&mdash;in Music-hall
+songs</i></span>.<br>
+<span class="p1">So retiring and so timid and so coy.</span><br>
+If you ask me why so long I have lived single,<br>
+<span class="p1">I will tell you&mdash;'tis because I am so shoy.</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim topm05">[<i>Note the manner in which the rhyme is adapted to meet
+Arcadian peculiarities of pronunciation.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;Yes, I am&mdash;really, though you wouldn't think it
+to look at me, would you? But, for all that,&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<p class="p6 pim4">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;When I'm spoken to, I wriggle,<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>Going off into a giggle,<br>
+And as red as any peony I blush;<br>
+<span class="p1">Then turn paler than a lily,</span><br>
+<span class="p1">For I'm such a little silly,</span><br>
+That I'm always in a flutter or a flush!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim topm05">[<i>After each chorus an elaborate step-dance, expressive of
+shrinking maidenly modesty.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+I've a cottage far away from other houses,<br>
+<span class="p1">Which the nybours hardly ever come anoigh;</span><br>
+When they do, I run and hoide among the rouses,<br>
+<span class="p1">For I <i>cannot</i> cure myself of being shoy.</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;A great girl like me, too! But there, it's no use
+trying, for&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &amp;c.<br></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Well, the other day I felt my fice was crimson,<br>
+<span class="p1">Though I stood and fixed my gyze upon the skoy,</span><br>
+For at the gyte was sorcy Chorley Simpson,<br>
+<span class="p1">And the sight of him's enough to turn me shoy.</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;It's singular, but Chorley always 'as that effect on
+me.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;When he speaks to me, I wriggle, &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Then said Chorley: "My pursuit there's no evyding.<br>
+<span class="p1">Now I've caught you, I insist on a reploy.</span><br>
+Do you love me? Tell me truly, little myding!"<br>
+<span class="p1">But how <i>is</i> a girl to answer when she's shoy?</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;For even if the conversation happens to be about
+nothing particular, it's just the same to me.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8"><i>Chorus</i>&mdash;When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>&amp;c.</p>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;">
+<a href="images/037a.jpg"><img src="images/037.jpg" width="200" height="472" alt="The Idyllic." title="">
+</a><span class="caption smcap">The Idyllic.</span>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="p4">
+There we stood among the loilac and syringas,<br>
+<span class="p1">More sweet than any Ess. Bouquet you boy;</span><br>
+<span class="p8">[<i>Arcadian for "buy."</i></span><br>
+And Chorley kept on squeezing of my fingers,<br>
+<span class="p1">And I couldn't tell him not to, being shoy.</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;For, as I told you before,&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Soon my slender wyste he ventured on embrycing,<br>
+<span class="p1">While I only heaved a gentle little soy;</span><br>
+Though a scream I would have liked to rise my vice in,<br>
+<span class="p1">It's so difficult to scream when you are shoy!</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;People have such different ways of listening to
+proposals. As for me,&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8"><i>Chorus</i>&mdash;When they talk of love, I wriggle, &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+So very soon to Church we shall be gowing,<br>
+<span class="p1">While the bells ring out a merry peal of jy.</span><br>
+If obedience you do not hear me vowing,<br>
+<span class="p1">It will only be because I am so shy.</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim topm05">[<i>We have brought the rhyme off legitimately at last, it
+will be observed.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;Yes, and when I'm passing down the oil, on
+Chorley's arm, with everybody looking at me,&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<p class="p6 pim4">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;I am certain I shall wriggle,<br>
+<span class="p1">And go off into a giggle,</span><br>
+And as red as any peony I'll blush.<br>
+<span class="p1">Going through the marriage service</span><br>
+<span class="p1">Will be sure to mike me nervous,</span><br>
+<span class="p8">[<i>Note the freedom of the rhyme.</i></span><br>
+<span class="p1">And to put me in a flutter and a flush!</span>
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="c25"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="V_THE_AMATORY_EPISODIC" id="V_THE_AMATORY_EPISODIC"></a><span class="smcap">v.</span>&mdash;THE AMATORY EPISODIC.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> history of a singer's latest love&mdash;whether fortunate or
+otherwise&mdash;will always command the interest and attention
+of a Music-hall audience. Our example, which is founded
+upon the very best precedents, derives an additional piquancy
+from the social position of the beloved object. Cultivated
+readers are requested not to shudder at the rhymes. <i>Mr.
+Punch's</i> Poet does them deliberately and in cold blood, being
+convinced that without these somewhat daring concords, no
+ditty would have the slightest chance of satisfying the great
+ear of the Music-hall public.</p>
+
+<p>The title of the song is:&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<h4>MASHED BY A MARCHIONESS.</h4>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim"><i>The singer should come on correctly and tastefully attired
+in a suit of loud dittoes, a startling tie, and a white
+hat</i>&mdash;<i>the orthodox costume (on the Music-hall stage) of a
+middle-class swain suffering from love-sickness. The air
+should be of the conventional jog-trot and jingle order,
+chastened by a sentimental melancholy.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p2">
+<span class="smcap">I've</span> lately gone and lost my 'art&mdash;and where you'll never guess&mdash;<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>I'm regularly mashed upon a lovely Marchioness!<br>
+'Twas at a Fancy Fair we met, inside the Albert 'All;<br>
+So affable she smiled at me as I came near her stall!
+</p>
+
+<p class="p6 pim4">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Don't tell me Belgravia is stiff in behaviour!<br>
+She'd an Uncle an Earl, and a Dook for her Pa&mdash;<br>
+Still there was no starchiness in that fair Marchioness,<br>
+As she stood at her stall in the Fancy Bazaar!
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+At titles and distinctions once I'd ignorantly scoff,<br>
+As if no bond could be betwixt the tradesman and the toff!<br>
+I held with those who'd do away with difference in ranks&mdash;<br>
+But that was all before I met the Marchioness of Manx!
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Don't tell me Belgravia, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+A home was being started by some kind aristo-cràts,<br>
+For orphan kittens, born of poor, but well-connected cats;<br>
+And of the swells who planned a <i>Fête</i> this object to assist,<br>
+The Marchioness of Manx's name stood foremost on the list.
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Don't tell me Belgravia, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+I never saw a smarter hand at serving in a shop,<br>
+For every likely customer she caught upon the 'op!<br>
+And from the form her ladyship displayed at that Bazaar,<br>
+(<i>With enthusiasm</i>)&mdash;You might have took your oath she'd been brought up behind a bar!
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Don't tell me Belgravia, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+In vain I tried to kid her that my purse had been forgot,<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>She spotted me in 'alf a jiff, and chaffed me precious hot!<br>
+A sov. for one regaliar she gammoned me to spend.<br>
+"You really can't refuse," she said, "I've bitten off the end!"
+</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 247px;">
+<a href="images/041a.jpg"><img src="images/041.jpg" width="247" height="526" alt="The Amatory Episodic." title="">
+</a><span class="caption smcap">The Amatory Episodic.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Don't tell me Belgravia, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+"Do buy my crewel-work," she urged, "it goes across a chair,<br>
+You'll find it come in useful, as I see you 'ile your 'air!"<br>
+So I 'anded over thirty bob, though not a coiny bloke.<br>
+I couldn't tell a Marchioness how nearly I was broke!
+</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;Though I <i>did</i> take the liberty of saying: "Make
+it fifteen bob, my lady!" But she said, with such a fascinating
+look&mdash;I can see it yet!&mdash;"Oh, I'm sure <i>you</i>'re not a
+'aggling kind of a man," she says, "you haven't the face for
+it. And think of all them pore fatherless kittings," she says;
+"think what thirty bob means to <i>them</i>!" says she, glancing
+up so pitiful and tender under her long eyelashes at me. Ah,
+the Radicals may talk as they <i>like</i>, but&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Don't tell me Belgravia, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+A raffle was the next concern I put my rhino in:<br>
+The prize a talking parrot, which I didn't want to win.<br>
+Then her sister, Lady Tabby, shewed a painted milking stool,<br>
+And I bought it&mdash;though it's not a thing I sit on as a rule.
+</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;Not but what it was a handsome article in its
+way, too,&mdash;had a snow-scene with a sunset done in oil on it.
+"It will look lovely in your chambers," says the Marchioness;
+"it was ever so much admired at Catterwall Castle!" It
+didn't look so bad in my three-pair back, I must say, though
+unfortunately the sunset came off on me the very first time
+I happened to set down on it. Still think of the condescension
+of painting such a thing at all!</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Don't tell me Belgravia, &amp;c.<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+The Marquis kept a-fidgeting and frowning at his wife,<br>
+For she talked to me as free as if she'd known me all my life!<br>
+I felt that I was in the swim, so wasn't over-awed,<br>
+But 'ung about and spent my cash as lavish as a lord!
+</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;It was worth all the money, I can tell you, to be
+chatting there across the counter with a real live Marchioness
+for as long as ever my funds would 'old out. They'd have
+held out much longer, only the Marchioness made it a rule
+never to give change&mdash;she couldn't break it, she said, not
+even for <i>me</i>. I wish I could give you an idea of how she
+smiled as she made that remark; for the fact is, when an
+aristocrat <i>does</i> unbend&mdash;well,&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Don't tell me Belgravia, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Next time I meet the Marchioness a-riding in the Row,<br>
+I'll ketch her eye and raise my 'at, and up to her I'll go,<br>
+(<i>With sentiment</i>)&mdash;And tell her next my 'art I keep the stump of that cigar<br>
+She sold me on the 'appy day we 'ad at her Bazaar!
+</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;And she'll be pleased to see me again, <i>I</i> know!
+She's not one of your stuck-up sort; don't you make no
+mistake about it, the aristocracy ain't 'alf as bloated as people
+imagine who don't <i>know</i> 'em. Whenever I hear parties
+running 'em down, I always say:</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Don't tell me Belgravia is stiff in behaviour, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="c25"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 334px;">
+<a href="images/044a.jpg"><img src="images/044.jpg" width="334" height="521" alt="The Chivalrous." title="">
+</a><span class="caption smcap">The Chivalrous.</span>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="VI_THE_CHIVALROUS" id="VI_THE_CHIVALROUS"></a><span class="smcap">vi.</span>&mdash;THE CHIVALROUS.</h2>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim"><i>The singer (who should be a large man, in evening dress, with
+a crumpled shirt-front) will come on the stage with a
+bearing intended to convey at first sight that he is a
+devoted admirer of the fair sex. After removing his
+crush-hat in an easy manner, and winking airily at the
+orchestra, he will begin</i>:&mdash;</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4>WHY <span class="u">SHOULDN'T</span> THE DARLINGS?</h4>
+
+<p class="p2">
+<span class="smcap">There's</span> enthusiasm brimming in the breasts of all the women,<br>
+<span class="p1">And they're calling for enfranchisement with clamour eloquent:</span><br>
+When some parties in a huff rage at the plea for Female Suffrage,<br>
+<span class="p1">I invariably floor them with a simple argu-ment.</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2 top2"><i>Chorus</i> (<i>to be rendered with a winning persuasiveness</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Why <i>shouldn't</i> the darlings have votes? de-ar things!<br>
+On politics each of 'em dotes, de-ar things!<br>
+(<i>Pathetically.</i>) Oh it <i>does</i> seem so hard<br>
+<span class="p3">They should all be debarred,</span><br>
+'Cause they happen to wear petticoats, de-ar things!
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2 top2">
+Nature all the hens to crow meant, I could prove it in a moment,<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span><span class="p1">Though they've selfishly been silenced by the cockadoodle-doos.</span><br>
+But no man of sense afraid is of enfranchising the Ladies.<br>
+<span class="p1">(<i>Magnanimously.</i>) Let 'em put their pretty fingers into any pie they choose!</span></p>
+
+<p><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;For&mdash;&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Why <i>shouldn't</i> the darlings, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+They would cease to care for dresses, if we made them elec-tresses,<br>
+<span class="p1">No more time they'd spend on needlework, nor at pianos strum;</span><br>
+Every dainty little Dorcas would be sitting on a Caucus,<br>
+<span class="p1">Busy wire-pulling to produce the New Millenni-um!</span></p>
+
+<p><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;Oh!&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Why <i>shouldn't</i> the darlings, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+In the House we'll see them sitting soon, it will be only fitting<br>
+<span class="p1">They should have an opportunity their country's laws to frame.</span><br>
+And the Ladies' legislation will be sure to cause sensation,<br>
+<span class="p1">For they'll do away with everything that seems to them a shame!</span></p>
+<p><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;Then&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Why <i>shouldn't</i> the darlings, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+They will promptly clap a stopper on whate'er they deem improper,<br>
+<span class="p1">Put an end to vaccination, landed property, and pubs;</span><br>
+And they'll fine Tom, Dick, and Harry, if they don't look sharp and marry,<br>
+<span class="p1">And for Kindergartens confiscate those nasty horrid Clubs!</span></p>
+<p><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;Ah!&mdash;&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Why <i>shouldn't</i> the darlings, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>&amp;c.
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+They'll declare it's quite immoral to engage in foreign quarrel,<br>
+<span class="p1">And that Britons never never will be warriors any more!</span><br>
+When our forces are abolished, and defences all demolished,<br>
+<span class="p1">They will turn upon the Jingo tack, and want to go to war!</span></p>
+<p><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;So&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Why <i>shouldn't</i> the darlings, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+(<i>With a grieved air.</i>) Yet there's some who'd close such vistars to their poor down-trodden sistars,<br>
+<span class="p1">And persuade 'em, if they're offered votes, politely to refuse!</span><br>
+Say they do not care about 'em, and would rather be without 'em&mdash;<br>
+<span class="p1">Oh, I haven't common patience with such narrer-minded views!</span></p>
+<p><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;No!&mdash;&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Why <i>shouldn't</i> the darlings, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+And it's females&mdash;that's the puzzle!&mdash;who petition for the muzzle,<br>
+<span class="p1">Which I call it poor and paltry, and I think you'll say so too.</span><br>
+They are not in any danger. Let 'em drop the dog-in-manger!<br>
+<span class="p1">If they don't require the vote themselves, there's other Ladies do!</span></p>
+<p><i>Spoken</i>&mdash;And&mdash;&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Why <i>shouldn't</i> the darlings, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Here the singer will gradually retreat backwards to the rear
+of the stage, open his crush-hat, and extend it in an
+attitude of triumph as the curtain descends.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+
+<hr class="c25">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="VII_THE_FRANKLY_CANAILLE" id="VII_THE_FRANKLY_CANAILLE"></a><span class="smcap">vii.</span>&mdash;THE FRANKLY CANAILLE.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Any</span> ditty which accurately reflects the habits and amusements
+of the people is a valuable human document&mdash;a fact that
+probably accounts for the welcome which songs in the
+following style invariably receive from Music-hall audiences
+generally. If&mdash;<i>Mr. Punch</i> presumes&mdash;they conceived such
+pictures of their manner of spending a holiday to be unjustly
+or incorrectly drawn in any way, they would protest strongly
+against being so grossly misrepresented. As they do nothing
+of the sort, no apology can be needed for the following
+effusion, which several ladies now adorning the Music-hall
+stage could be trusted to render with immense effect. The
+singer should be young and charming, and attired as simply
+as possible. Simplicity of attire imparts additional piquancy
+to the words:&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<h4>THE POOR OLD 'ORSE.</h4>
+
+<p class="p2">
+<span class="smcap">We</span> 'ad a little outing larst Sunday arternoon;<br>
+And sech a jolly lark it was, I shan't forget it soon!<br>
+We borrered an excursion van to take us down to Kew,<br>
+And&mdash;oh, we did enjoy ourselves! I don't mind telling <i>you.</i>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>This to the Chef d'Orchestre, who will assume a polite interest.</i></p>
+
+<p class="pim">[<i>Here a little spoken interlude is customary. </i>Mr. P.<i> does not
+venture to do more than indicate this by a synopsis, the
+details can be filled in according to the taste and fancy of</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+<i>the fair artiste:&mdash;"Yes, we did 'ave a time, I can assure
+yer." The party: "Me and </i>Jimmy 'Opkins;"<i> old </i>"Pa
+Plapper."<i> Asked because he lent the van. The meanness
+of his subsequent conduct. </i>"Aunt Snapper;"<i> her
+imposing appearance in her "cawfy-coloured front."
+</i>Bill Blazer;<i> his "girl," and his accordion. </i>Mrs.
+Addick<i> (of the fried-fish emporium round the corner);
+her gentility&mdash;"Never seen out of her mittens, and
+always the lady, no matter how much she may have
+taken." From this work round by an easy transition to&mdash;</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p8 pim6">
+<i>The Chorus</i>&mdash;For we <i>'ad</i> to stop o' course,<br>
+Jest to bait the bloomin' 'orse,<br>
+So we'd pots of ale and porter<br>
+(Or a drop o' something shorter),<br>
+While he drunk his pail o' water,<br>
+He was sech a whale on water!<br>
+That more water than he oughter,<br>
+More water than he oughter,<br>
+<span class="p6">'Ad the poor old 'orse!</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Second Stanza.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+That 'orse he was a rum 'un&mdash;a queer old quadru-pèd,<br>
+At every public-'ouse he passed he'd cock his artful 'ed!<br>
+Sez I: "If he goes on like this, we shan't see Kew to-night!"<br>
+Jim 'Opkins winks his eye, and sez&mdash;"We'll git along all right!"
+</p>
+
+<p class="p10">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Though we 'ave to stop of course,&mdash;&amp;c., &amp;c.<br>
+<span class="p8">[<i>With slight textual modifications.</i></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Third Stanza.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+At Kinsington we 'alted, 'Ammersmith, and Turnham Green,<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>The 'orse 'ad sech a thust on him, its like was never seen!<br>
+With every 'arf a mile or so, that animal got blown:<br>
+And we was far too well brought-up to let 'im drink alone!
+</p>
+
+<p class="p10">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;As we 'ad to stop, o' course, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Fourth Stanza.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+We stopped again at Chiswick, till at last we got to Kew,<br>
+But when we reached the Gardings&mdash;well, there was a fine to-do!<br>
+The Keeper, in his gold-laced tile, was shutting-to the gate,<br>
+Sez he: "There's no admittance now&mdash;you're just arrived too late!"
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Synopsis of spoken Interlude: Spirited passage-at-arms
+between </i>Mr. Wm. Blazer<i> and the </i>Keeper;<i> singular action
+of </i>Pa Plapper;<i> "I want to see yer Pagoder&mdash;bring out
+yer old Pagoder as you're so proud on!" </i>Mrs. Addick's<i>
+disappointment at not being able to see the "Intemperate
+Plants," and the "Pitcher Shrub," once more. Her
+subsidence in tears, on the floor of the van. </i>Keeper<i>
+concludes the dialogue by inquiring why the party did not
+arrive sooner. An' we sez</i>, "Well, it was like this, ole
+cock robin&mdash;d'yer see?"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p10">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;We've 'ad to stop, o' course, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Fifth Stanza.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+"Don't fret," I sez, "about it, for they ain't got much to see<br>
+Inside their precious Gardings&mdash;so let's go and 'ave some tea!<br>
+A cup I seem to fancy now&mdash;I feel that faint and limp&mdash;<br>
+With a slice of bread-and-butter, and some creases, and a s'rimp!"
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Description of the tea</i>:&mdash;"<i>And the s'rimps&mdash;well, I don't</i>
+<i>want to say anything against the s'rimps&mdash;but it did
+strike me they were feelin' the 'eat a little&mdash;s'rimps are
+liable to it, and you can't prevent 'em." After tea.
+The only tune </i>Mr. Blazer<i> could play on his accordion.
+Tragic end of that instrument. How the party had a
+"little more lush." Scandalous behaviour of </i>"Bill
+Blazer's<i> girl." The company consume what will be
+elegantly referred to as "a bit o' booze." </i>Aunt Snapper<i>
+"gets the 'ump." The outrage to her front. The
+proposal to start&mdash;whereupon, </i>"Mrs. Addick,<i> who was
+a'-settin' on the geraniums in the winder, smilin' at her
+boots, which she'd just took off because she said they
+stopped her breathing," protested that there was no
+hurry, considering that</i>&mdash;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p10">
+<i>Chorus, as before</i>&mdash;We've got to stop, o' course, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Sixth Stanza.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+But when the van was ordered, we found&mdash;what <i>do</i> yer think?<br>
+<span class="p8">[<i>To the </i>Chef d'Orchestre,<i> who will affect complete ignorance.</i></span><br>
+That miserable 'orse 'ad been an' took too much to drink!<br>
+He kep' a reeling round us, like a circus worked by steam,<br>
+And, 'stead o' keeping singular, he'd turned into a team!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Disgust of the party: </i>Pa Plapper<i> proposes to go back to the
+inn for more refreshment, urging&mdash;</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p8 pim4">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;We must wait awhile o' course,<br>
+Till they've sobered down the 'orse.<br>
+Just another pot o' porter<br>
+Or a drop o' something shorter,<br>
+While our good landlady's daughter<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>Takes him out some soda-warter.<br>
+For he's 'ad more than he oughter,<br>
+He's 'ad more than he oughter,<br>
+<span class="p7">'As the poor old 'orse!</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Seventh Stanza.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+So, when they brought the 'orse round, we started on our way:<br>
+'Twas 'orful 'ow the animal from side to side would sway!<br>
+Young 'Opkins took the reins, but soon in slumber he was sunk&mdash;<br>
+(<i>Indignantly.</i>) When a interfering Copper ran us in for being drunk!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Attitude of various members of the party. Unwarrantable
+proceeding on the part of the </i>Constable<i>. Remonstrance
+by </i>Pa Plapper<i> and the company generally in</i>&mdash;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p8 pim4">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Why, can't yer shee? o' coursh<br>
+Tishn't us&mdash;it ish the 'orsh!<br>
+He's a whale at swilling water,<br>
+We've 'ad only ale and porter,<br>
+Or a drop o' something shorter.<br>
+You le'mme go, you shnorter!<br>
+Don' you tush me till you oughter!<br>
+Jus' look 'ere&mdash;to cut it shorter&mdash;<br>
+<span class="p7">Take the poor old 'orsh!</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>General adjournment to the Police-station. Interview with
+the </i>Magistrate<i> on the following morning. </i>Mr. Hopkins<i>
+called upon to state his defence, replies in</i>&mdash;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p8 pim4">
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Why, your wushup sees, o' course,<br>
+It was all the bloomin' 'orse!<br>
+He <i>would</i> 'ave a pail o' water<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>Every 'arf a mile (or quarter),<br>
+Which is what he didn't oughter!<br>
+He shall stick to ale or porter,<br>
+With a drop o' something shorter,<br>
+I'm my family's supporter&mdash;<br>
+<span class="p7">Fine the poor old 'orse!</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>The </i>Magistrate's<i> view of the case. Concluding remark that,
+notwithstanding the success of the excursion, as a whole&mdash;it
+will be some time before the singer consents to go upon
+any excursion with a horse of such bibulous tendencies as
+those of the quadruped they drove to Kew.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 264px;">
+<a href="images/053a.jpg"><img src="images/053.jpg" width="264" height="305" alt="smoking gentleman" title="">
+</a></div>
+
+
+<hr class="c25">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 330px;">
+<a href="images/054a.jpg"><img src="images/054.jpg" width="330" height="534" alt="The Dramatic Scena." title="">
+</a><span class="caption smcap">The Dramatic Scena.</span>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="VIII_THE_DRAMATIC_SCENA" id="VIII_THE_DRAMATIC_SCENA"></a><span class="smcap">viii.</span>&mdash;THE DRAMATIC SCENA.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">This</span> is always a popular form of entertainment, demanding,
+as it does, even more dramatic than vocal ability on the
+part of the artist. A song of this kind is nothing if not
+severely moral, an frequently depicts the downward career of
+an incipient drunkard with all the lurid logic of a Temperance
+Tract. <i>Mr. Punch</i>, however, is inclined to think that the
+lesson would be even more appreciated and taken to heart
+by the audience, if a slightly different line were adopted
+such as he has endeavoured to indicate in the following
+example:&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<h4>THE DANGER OF MIXED DRINKS.</h4>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim"><i>The singer should have a great command of facial expression,
+which he will find greatly facilitated by employing (as
+indeed is the usual custom) coloured limelight at the
+wings.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>First Verse (to be sung under pure white light).</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+<span class="smcap">He</span> (<i>these awful examples are usually, and quite properly, anonymous</i>) was once as nice a fellow as you could desire to meet,<br>
+Partial to a pint of porter, always took his spirits neat;<br>
+Long ago a careful mother's cautions trained her son to shrink<br>
+From the meretricious sparkle of an aërated drink.<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim top2"><i>Refrain (showing the virtuous youth resisting temptation.
+N.B. The refrain is intended to be spoken through music.</i>
+<span class="smcap">Not</span> <i>sung</i>.)</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p6">
+Here's a pub that's handy.<br>
+<span class="p1">Liquor up with you?</span><br>
+Thimbleful of brandy?<br>
+<span class="p1">Don't mind if I do.</span><br>
+Soda-water? No, Sir.<br>
+<span class="p1">Never touch the stuff.</span><br>
+Promised mother&mdash;so, Sir.<br>
+<span class="p8">(<i>With an upward glance.</i>)</span><br>
+<span class="p1">'Tisn't good enough!</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>Second Verse.</i> (<i>Primrose light for this.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Ah, how little we suspected, as we saw him in his bloom,<br>
+What a demon dogged his footsteps, luring to an awful doom!<br>
+Vain his mother's fond monitions; soon a friend, with fiendish laugh,<br>
+Tempts him to a quiet tea-garden, plies him there with shandy-gaff!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>Refrain</i> (<i>illustrating the first false step</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p6">
+Why, it's just the mixture<br>
+<span class="p1">I so long have sought!</span><br>
+Here I'll be a fixture<br>
+<span class="p1">Till I've drunk the quart!</span><br>
+Just the stuff to suit yer.<br>
+<span class="p1">Waiter, do you hear?</span><br>
+Make it, for the future,<br>
+<span class="p1"><i>Three</i> parts ginger-beer!</span><br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>Third Verse</i> (<i>requiring violet-tinted slide</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+By-and-by, the ale discarding, ginger-beer he craves alone.<br>
+Undiluted he procures it, buys it bottled up in stone.<br>
+<span class="p6">(<i>The earthenware bottles are said by connoisseurs to contain
+liquor of superior strength and quality.</i>)</span><br>
+From his lips the foam he brushes&mdash;crimson overspreads his brow.<br>
+To his brain the ginger's mounting! Could his mother see him now!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>Refrain</i> (<i>depicting the horrors of a solitary debauch poisoned
+by remorse</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p6">
+Shall I have another?<br>
+<span class="p1">Only ginger-pop!</span><br>
+(<i>Wildly.</i>) Ah! I promised mother<br>
+<span class="p1">Not to touch a drop!</span><br>
+Far too much I'm tempted.<br>
+<span class="p1">(<i>Recklessly.</i>) Let me drink my fill!</span><br>
+That's the fifth I've emptied&mdash;<br>
+<span class="p1">Oh, I feel so ill!</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>Here the singer will stagger about the boards.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>Fourth Verse.</i> (<i>Turn on lurid crimson ray for this.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Next with drinks they style "teetotal" he his manhood must degrade;<br>
+Swilling effervescent syrups&mdash;"ice-cream-soda," "raspberry-ade,"<br>
+Koumiss tempts his jaded palate&mdash;payment he's obliged to bilk&mdash;<br>
+Then, reduced to destitution, finds forgetfulness in&mdash;milk!<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>Refrain</i> (<i>indicating rapid moral deterioration</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p6">
+What's that on the railings?<br>
+<span class="p6">[<i>Point dramatically at imaginary area.</i></span><br>
+<span class="p1">Milk&mdash;and in a can!</span><br>
+Though I have my failings,<br>
+<span class="p1">I'm an honest man.</span><br>
+<span class="p6">[<i>Spark of expiring rectitude here.</i></span><br>
+I can <i>not</i> resist it.      <span class="p2">[<i>Pantomime of opening can.</i></span><br>
+<span class="p1">That celestial blue!</span><br>
+Has the milkman missed it?      <span class="p2">[<i>Melodramatically.</i></span><br>
+<span class="p1"><i>I</i>'ll be missing too!</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>Fifth Verse</i> (<i>in pale blue light</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Milk begets a taste for water, so comparatively cheap,<br>
+Every casual pump supplies him, gratis, with potations deep;<br>
+He at every drinking-fountain pounces on the pewter cup,<br>
+Conscious of becoming bloated, powerless to give it up!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>Refrain</i> (<i>illustrative of utter loss of self-respect</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p6">
+"Find one straight before me?"<br>
+<span class="p1">Bobby, you're a trump!</span><br>
+Faintness stealing o'er me&mdash;<br>
+<span class="p1">Ha&mdash;at last&mdash;a pump!</span><br>
+If that little maid 'll<br>
+<span class="p1">Just make room for one,</span><br>
+I could grab the ladle<br>
+<span class="p1">After she has done.</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim"><i>The last verse is the culminating point of this moral drama:&mdash;The
+miserable wretch has reached the last stage. He
+shuts himself up in his cheerless abode, and there, in
+shameful secrecy, consumes the element for which he is
+powerless to pay&mdash;the inevitable Nemesis following.</i></p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>Sixth Verse</i> (<i>All lights down in front. Ghastly green light at
+wings</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Up his sordid stairs in secret to the cistern now he steals,<br>
+Where, amidst organic matter, gambol microscopic eels;<br>
+Tremblingly he turns the tap on&mdash;not a trickle greets the trough!<br>
+For the stony-hearted turncock's gone and cut his water off!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>Refrain</i> (<i>in which the profligate is supposed to demand an
+explanation from the turncock, with a terrible dénoûment</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p6">
+"Rate a quarter owing,<br>
+<span class="p1">Comp'ny stopped supply."</span><br>
+"Set the stream a-flowing,<br>
+<span class="p1">Demon&mdash;or you die!"</span><br>
+"Mercy!&mdash;ah! you've choked me!"<br>
+<span class="p6">[<i>In hoarse, strangled voice as the turncock.</i></span><br>
+"<i>Will</i> you turn the plug?"  <span class="p2">[<i>Savagely as the hero.</i></span><br>
+<span class="p1">"No!" <span class="p2">[<i>Faintly, as turncock.</i></span></span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>Business of flinging a corpse on stage, and regarding it
+terror-stricken. A long pause; then, in a whisper,</i>&mdash;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p6">
+<span class="p9">"The fool provoked me!</span><br>
+(<i>With a maniac laugh.</i>) Horror! I'm a Thug!"
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>Here the artist will die, mad, in frightful agony, and
+rise to bow his acknowledgments.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+
+<hr class="c25">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a href="images/060a.jpg"><img src="images/060.jpg" width="400" height="509" alt="The Duettists." title="">
+</a><span class="caption smcap">The Duettists.</span>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="IX_THE_DUETTISTS" id="IX_THE_DUETTISTS"></a><span class="smcap">ix.</span>&mdash;THE DUETTISTS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> "Duet and Dance" form so important a feature in
+Music-hall entertainments, that they could hardly, with any
+propriety, be neglected in a model compilation such as <i>Mr.
+Punch's</i>, and it is possible that he may offer more than one
+example of this blameless diversion. For some reason or
+other, the habit of singing in pairs would seem to induce a
+pessimistic tone of mind in most Music-hall <i>artistes</i>, and&mdash;why,
+<i>Mr. Punch</i> does not pretend to say&mdash;this cynicism is
+always more marked when the performers are of the softer
+sex. Our present study is intended to fulfil the requirements
+of the most confirmed female sceptic, and, though the
+Message of the Music Halls may have been given worthier and
+fuller expression by pens more practised in such compositions,
+<i>Mr. Punch</i> is still modestly confident that this ditty, with all
+its shortcomings, can be sung in any Music Hall in the
+Metropolis without exciting any sentiment other than entire
+approval of the teaching it conveys. One drawback, indeed,
+it has, but that concerns the performers alone. For the sake
+of affording contrast and relief, it was thought expedient that
+one of the fair duettists should profess an optimism which
+may&mdash;perhaps must&mdash;tend to impair her popularity. A conscientious
+<i>artiste</i> may legitimately object, for the sake of her
+professional reputation, to present herself in so humiliating a
+character as that of an <i>ingénue</i>, and a female "Juggins";<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
+and it does seem as if the Cynical Sister must inevitably
+monopolise the sympathies of an enlightened audience.
+However, this difficulty is less formidable than it appears; it
+should be easy for the Unsophisticated Sister to convey a
+subtle suggestion here and there, possibly in the incidental
+dance between the verses, that she is not really inferior to her
+partner in smartness and knowledge of the world. But
+perhaps it would be the fairest arrangement if the Sisters
+could agree to alternate so ungrateful a <i>rôle.</i></p>
+
+
+<h4>RHINO!</h4>
+
+<p class="p8"><i>First Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>First Sister</i> (<i>placing three of the fingers of her left hand on
+her heart, and extending her right arm in timid appeal</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p4 topm05">
+Dear sister, of late I'm beginning to doubt<br>
+<span class="p1">If the world is as black as they paint it.</span><br>
+It mayn't be as bad as some try to make out&mdash;&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Second Sister</i> (<i>with an elaborate mock curtsy.</i>) <span class="p1">That <i>is</i> a discovery! <i>Mayn't</i> it?</span></p>
+
+<p class="p6 pim4">
+<i>First S.</i> (<i>abashed</i>). <span class="p1">I'm sure there are sev'ral who aren't a bad lot,</span><br>
+And some sort of principle seem to have got,<br>
+For they act on the square&mdash;&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p class="p6 pim4">
+<i>Second S.</i> <span class="p6">Don't you talk tommy-rot!</span><br>
+It's done for advertisement, <i>ain't</i> it?
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Refrain.</i></p>
+
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Second S.</i> <span class="p1">Why, there's nobody at bottom any better than the rest!</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>First S.</i> <span class="p1">Are you sure of it?</span></p>
+
+<p class="p6 pim4">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>
+<i>Second S.</i>   <span class="p6">I'm telling you, and <i>I</i> know,</span><br>
+The principle they act upon's whatever pays 'em best.<br>
+<span class="p1">And the only real religion now is&mdash;Rhino!</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>The last word must be rendered with full metallic effect. A
+step-dance, expressive of conviction on one part and incipient
+wavering on the other, should be performed between
+the verses.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Second Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="pi">
+<i>First S.</i> (<i>returning, shaken, to the charge</i>). <span class="p1">Some <i>un</i>married men lead respectable lives.</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Second S.</i> (<i>decisively</i>). <span class="p1">Well, I've never happened to meet them!</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>First S.</i> <span class="p1">There are husbands who're always polite to their wives.</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Second S.</i> <span class="p1">Of course&mdash;if their better halves beat them!</span></p>
+<p class="p6 pim4">
+<i>First S.</i> <span class="p1">Some tradesmen have consciences, so I've heard said;</span><br>
+Their provisions are never adulteratèd,<br>
+But they treat all their customers fairly instead.</p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Second S.</i> <span class="p1">'Cause they don't find it answer to cheat them!</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Refrain.</i></p>
+
+<p class="pi toplarge">
+<i>First S.</i> <span class="p2">&nbsp;What?</span></p>
+<p class="pi"><i>Second S.</i> <span class="large">{</span> No,&mdash;They're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest.</p>
+<p class="p6 pim4">
+<i>Second S.</i> <span class="p1">I'm speaking from experience, and <i>I</i> know.</span><br>
+If you could put a window-pane in everybody's breast<br>
+<span class="p3">You'd see on all the hearts was written&mdash;"Rhino!"</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Third Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="pi">
+<i>First S.</i> <span class="p1">There are girls you can't tempt with a title or gold.</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Second S.</i> <span class="p1">There may be&mdash;but I've never seen one.</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>First S.</i> <span class="p1">Some much prefer love in a cottage, I'm told.</span><br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="p6 pim4">
+<i>Second S.</i> (<i>putting her arms a-kimbo</i>). <span class="p1">If you swallow <i>that</i>, you're a green one!</span><br>
+They'll stick to their lover so long as he's cash,<br>
+When it's gone, they look out for a wealthier mash.<br>
+A girl on the gush talks unpractical trash&mdash;<br>
+<span class="p1">When it comes to the point, she's a keen one!</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Refrain.</i></p>
+
+<p class="pi">
+<i>First S.</i> <span class="p1">Then, are none of us at bottom any better than the rest!</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Second S.</i> (<i>cheerfully</i>). <span class="p1">Not a bit; I am a girl myself and <i>I</i> know.</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>First S.</i> <span class="p1">You'd surely never give your hand to someone you detest?</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Second S.</i> <span class="p1">Why <i>rather</i>&mdash;if he's rolling in the Rhino!</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Fourth Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="pi">
+<i>First S.</i> <span class="p1">Philanthropists give up their lives to the poor.</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Second S.</i> <span class="p1">It's chiefly with tracts they present them.</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>First S.</i> <span class="p1">Still, some self-denial I'm sure they endure?</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Second S.</i> <span class="p1">It's their hobby, and seems to content them.</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>First S.</i> <span class="p1">But don't they go into those horrible slums?</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Second S.</i> <span class="p1">Sometimes&mdash;with a flourish of trumpets and drums.</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>First S.</i> <span class="p1">I've heard they've collected magnificent sums.</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Second S.</i> <span class="p1">And nobody knows how they've spent them!</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Refrain.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p6 pim4">
+<i>Second S.</i> <span class="p1">Oh, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest!</span><br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>They are only bigger hypocrites, as <i>I</i> know;<br>
+They've famous opportunities for feathering their nest,<br>
+When so many fools are ready with the Rhino!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Fifth Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="pi">
+<i>First S.</i> <span class="p1">Our Statesmen are prompted by duty alone.</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Second S.</i> (<i>compassionately</i>). <span class="p1">Whoever's been gammoning <i>you</i> so?</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>First S.</i> <span class="p1">They wouldn't seek office for ends of their own?</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Second S.</i> <span class="p1">What else would induce 'em to do so?</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>First S.</i> <span class="p1">But Time, Health, and Money they all sacrifice.</span></p>
+<p class="p6 pim4">
+<i>Second S.</i> <span class="p1">I'd do it myself at a quarter the price.</span><br>
+There's pickings for all, and they needn't ask twice,<br>
+<span class="p1">For they're able to put on the screw so!</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Refrain</i> (<i>together</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+No, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest!<br>
+<span class="p1">They may kid to their constituents&mdash;but <i>I</i> know;</span><br>
+Whatever lofty sentiments their speeches may suggest,<br>
+<span class="p1">They regulate their actions by the Rhino!</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Here the pair will perform a final step-dance, indicative of
+enlightened scepticism, and skip off in an effusion of
+sisterly sympathy, amidst enthusiastic applause.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+
+<hr class="c25">
+<p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 239px;">
+<a href="images/066a.jpg"><img src="images/066.jpg" width="239" height="530" alt="Disinterested Passion." title="">
+</a><span class="caption smcap">Disinterested Passion.</span>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="X_DISINTERESTED_PASSION" id="X_DISINTERESTED_PASSION"></a><span class="smcap">x.</span>&mdash;DISINTERESTED PASSION.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">When</span> a Music-hall singer does not treat of the tender
+passion in a rakish and knowing spirit, he is apt to exhibit an
+unworldliness truly ideal in its noble indifference to all social
+distinctions. So amiable a tendency deserves encouragement,
+and <i>Mr. Punch</i> has much pleasure in offering the following
+little idyl to the notice of any Mammoth Comique who may
+happen to be in a sentimental mood. It is supposed to be
+sung by a scion of the nobility, and the <i>artiste</i> will accordingly
+present himself in a brown "billy-cock" hat, a long grey
+frock-coat, fawn-coloured trousers, white "spats," and primrose,
+or green, gloves&mdash;the recognised attire of a Music-hall
+aristocrat. A powerful,&mdash;though not necessarily tuneful,&mdash;voice
+is desirable for the adequate rendering of this ditty;
+any words it is inconvenient to sing, can always be spoken.</p>
+
+
+<h4>ONLY A LITTLE PLEBEIAN!</h4>
+
+
+<p class="p8"><i>First Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+<span class="smcap">When</span> first I met my Mary Ann, she stood behind a barrow&mdash;<br>
+<span class="p1">A bower of enchantment spread with many a dainty snack!</span><br>
+And, as I gazed, I felt my heart transfixed with Cupid's arrow,<br>
+<span class="p1">For she opened all her oysters with so fairylike a knack.</span><br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="p6 top2"><i>Refrain</i> (<i>throaty, but tender</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p6">
+She's only a little Plebeian!<br>
+<span class="p1">And I'm a Patrician swell!</span><br>
+But she's as sweet as Aurora, and how I adore her,<br>
+<span class="p1">No eloquence ever can tell!</span><br>
+Only a fried-fish vend-ar!<br>
+<span class="p1">Selling her saucers of whilks,</span><br>
+<span class="p8">[<i>Almost defiant stress on the word "whilks."</i></span><br>
+But, for me, she's as slend-ar&mdash;far more true and tend-ar,<br>
+<span class="p1">Than if she wore satins and silks!</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>The grammar of the last two lines is shaky, but the Lion-Comique
+must try to put up with that, and, after all, does
+sincere emotion ever stop to think about grammar? If it
+does, Music-hall audiences don't&mdash;which is the main
+point.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Second Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+I longed before her little feet to grovel in the gutter:<br>
+<span class="p1">I vowed, unless I won her as a wife, 'twould drive me mad!</span><br>
+Until at last a shy consent I coaxed her lips to utter,<br>
+<span class="p1">For she dallied with her Anglo-Dutch, and whispered, "Speak to Dad!"</span></p>
+<p class="p10">
+<i>Refrain</i>&mdash;For she's only a little Plebeian, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Third Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+I called upon her sire, and found him lowly born, but brawny,<br>
+<span class="p1">A noble type, when sober, of the British artisan;</span><br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>I grasped his honest hand, and didn't mind its being horny:<br>
+<span class="p1">"Behold!" I cried, "a suitor for your daughter, Mary Ann!"</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p10"><i>Refrain</i>&mdash;Though she's only a little Plebeian, &amp;c.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Fourth Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+"You ask me, gov'nor, to resign," said he, "my only treasure,<br>
+<span class="p1">And so a toff her fickle heart away from me has won!"</span><br>
+He turned to mask his manly woe behind a pewter measure&mdash;<br>
+<span class="p1">Then, breathing blessings through the beer, he said; "All right, my son!</span></p>
+<p class="p10">
+<i>Refrain</i>&mdash;If she's only a little Plebeian,<br>
+<span class="p4">And you're a Patrician swell,"&mdash;&amp;c.</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Fifth Verse.</i></p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">(<i>The author flatters himself that, in quiet sentiment and
+homely pathos he has seldom done anything finer than the
+two succeeding stanzas.</i>)</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Next I sought my noble father in his old ancestral castle,<br>
+<span class="p1">And at his gouty foot my love's fond offering I laid&mdash;</span><br>
+A simple gift of shellfish, in a neat brown-paper parcel!<br>
+<span class="p1">"Ah, Sir!" I cried, "if you could know, you'd love my little maid!"</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p10"><i>Refrain</i>&mdash;True, she's only a little Plebeian, &amp;c.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Sixth Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Beneath his shaggy eyebrows soon I saw a tear-drop twinkle;<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span><span class="p1">That artless present overcame his stubborn Norman pride!</span><br>
+And when I made him taste a whilk, and try a periwinkle,<br>
+<span class="p1">His last objections vanished&mdash;so she's soon to be my bride!</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p10"><i>Refrain</i>&mdash;Ah! she's only a little Plebeian, &amp;c.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Seventh Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Now heraldry's a science that I haven't studied much in,<br>
+<span class="p1">But I mean to ask the College&mdash;if it's not against their rules&mdash;</span><br>
+That three periwinkles proper may be quartered on our 'scutcheon,<br>
+<span class="p1">With a whilk regardant, rampant, on an oyster-knife, all gules!</span></p>
+<p class="p10">
+<i>Refrain</i>&mdash;As she's only a little Plebeian, &amp;c.
+</p>
+
+<p class="top4">This little ditty, which has the true, unmistakable ring
+about it, and will, <i>Mr. Punch</i> believes, touch the hearts of
+any Music-hall audience, is entirely at the service of any
+talented <i>artiste</i> who will undertake to fit it with an appropriate
+melody, and sing it in a spirit of becoming seriousness.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="c25">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="XI_THE_PANEGYRIC_PATTER" id="XI_THE_PANEGYRIC_PATTER"></a><span class="smcap">xi.</span>&mdash;THE PANEGYRIC PATTER.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">This</span> ditty is designed to give some expression to the
+passionate enthusiasm for nature which is occasionally observable
+in the Music-hall songstress. The young lady who
+sings these verses will of course appear in appropriate
+costume; viz., a large white hat and feathers, a crimson
+sunshade, a pink frock, high-heeled sand-shoes, and a liberal
+extent of black silk stockings. A phonetic spelling has been
+adopted where necessary to bring out the rhyme, for the
+convenience of the reader only, as the singer will instinctively
+give the vowel-sounds the pronunciation intended by the
+author.</p>
+
+
+<h4>THE JOYS OF THE SEA-SIDE.</h4>
+
+
+<p class="p8"><i>First Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+<span class="smcap">Oh,</span> I love to sit a-gyzing on the boundless blue horizing,<br>
+<span class="p1">When the scorching sun is blyzing down on sands, and ships, and sea!</span><br>
+And to watch the busy figgers of the happy little diggers,<br>
+<span class="p1">Or to listen to the niggers, when they choose to come to me!</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>Chorus</i> (<i>to which the singer should sway in waltz-time</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p6">
+For I'm offully fond of the <i>Sea</i>!-side!<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>If I'd only my w'y I would <i>de</i>-cide<br>
+<span class="p2">To dwell evermore,</span><br>
+<span class="p2">By the murmuring shore,</span><br>
+With the billows a-blustering <i>be</i>-side!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p10 top2"><i>Second Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Then how pleasant of a morning, to be up before the dorning!<br>
+<span class="p1">And to sally forth a-prorning&mdash;e'en if nothing back you bring!</span><br>
+Some young men who like fatigue 'll go and try to pot a sea-gull,<br>
+<span class="p1">What's the odds if it's illegal, or the bird they only wing?</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8"><i>Chorus</i>&mdash;For it's one of the sports of the <i>Sea</i>-side! &amp;c.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p10 top2"><i>Third Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Then what j'y to go a bything&mdash;though you'll swim, if you're a sly thing,<br>
+<span class="p1">Like a mermaid nimbly writhing, with a foot upon the sand!</span><br>
+When you're tired of old Poseidon, there's the pier to promenide on,<br>
+<span class="p1">Strauss, and Sullivan, and Haydn form the programme of the band.</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8"><i>Chorus</i>&mdash;For there's always a band at the <i>Sea</i>-side! &amp;c.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p10 top2"><i>Fourth Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+And, with boatmen so beguiling, sev'ral parties go out siling!<br>
+<span class="p1">Sitting all together smiling, handing sandwiches about,</span><br>
+To the sound of concertiner,&mdash;till they're gradually greener,<br>
+<span class="p1">And they wish the ham was leaner, as they sip their bottled stout.</span>
+</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 304px;">
+<a href="images/073a.jpg"><img src="images/073.jpg" width="304" height="531" alt="The Panegyric Patter." title="">
+</a><span class="caption smcap">The Panegyric Patter.</span>
+</div>
+<p class="p10">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>
+<i>Chorus</i>&mdash;And they cry, "Put us back on the <i>Sea</i>-side!" &amp;c.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p10 top2"><i>Fifth Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+There is pleasure unalloyed in hiring hacks and going roiding!<br>
+<span class="p1">(If you stick on tight, avoiding any cropper or mishap,)</span><br>
+Or about the rocks you ramble; over boulders slip and scramble;<br>
+<span class="p1">Or sit down and do a gamble, playing "Loo" or "Penny Nap."</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p10"><i>Chorus</i>&mdash;"Penny Nap" is the gyme for the <i>Sea</i>-side! &amp;c.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p10 top2"><i>Sixth Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Then it's lovely to be spewning, all the glamour of the mewn in,<br>
+<span class="p1">With your love his banjo tewning, ere flirtation can begin!</span><br>
+As along the sands you're strowling, till the hour of ten is towling,<br>
+<span class="p1">And your Ma, severely scowling, asks "Wherever you have bin!"</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p10"><i>Chorus</i>&mdash;Then you answer "I've been by the <i>Sea</i>-side!" &amp;c.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p10 top2"><i>Seventh Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Should the sky be dark and frowning, and the restless winds be mowning,<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span><span class="p1">With the breakers' thunder drowning all the laughter and the glee;</span><br>
+And the day should prove a drencher, out of doors you will not ventcher,<br>
+<span class="p1">But you'll read the volumes lent yer by the Local Libraree!</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p10"><i>Chorus</i>&mdash;For there's sure to be one at the <i>Sea</i>-side! &amp;c.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p10 top2"><i>Eighth Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+If the weather gets no calmer, you can patronise the dramer,<br>
+<span class="p1">Where the leading lady charmer is a chit of forty-four;</span><br>
+And a duty none would skirk is to attend the strolling circus,<br>
+<span class="p1">For they'd all be in the workhouse, should their antics cease to dror!</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p10"><i>Chorus</i>&mdash;And they're part of the joys of the <i>Sea</i>-side! &amp;c.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>Encore Verse</i> (<i>to be used only in case of emergency</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Well, I reelly must be gowing&mdash;I've just time to make my bow in&mdash;<br>
+<span class="p1">But I thank you for allowing me to patter on so long.</span><br>
+And if, like me, you're pining for the breezes there's some brine in,<br>
+<span class="p1">Why, I'll trouble you to jine in with the chorus to my song!</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p10"><i>Chorus</i> (<i>all together</i>)&mdash;Oh, we're offully fond of the <i>Sea</i>-side! &amp;c.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="c25"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 289px;">
+<a href="images/076a.jpg"><img src="images/076.jpg" width="289" height="527" alt="The Plaintively Pathetic." title="">
+</a><span class="caption smcap">The Plaintively Pathetic.</span>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="XII_THE_PLAINTIVELY_PATHETIC" id="XII_THE_PLAINTIVELY_PATHETIC"></a><span class="smcap">xii.</span>&mdash;THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">A Music-hall</span> audience will always be exceedingly susceptible
+to pathos&mdash;so long as they clearly understand that the
+song is not intended to be of a comic nature. However, there
+is very little danger of any misapprehension in the case of our
+present example, which is as natural and affecting a little
+song as any that have been moving the Music Halls of late.
+The ultra-fastidious may possibly be repelled by what they
+would term the vulgarity of the title,&mdash;"The Night-light
+Ever Burning by the Bed"&mdash;but, although it is true that this
+humble luminary is now more generally called a "Fairy
+Lamp," persons of true taste and refinement will prefer the
+homely simplicity of its earlier name. The song only contains
+three verses, which is the regulation allowance for
+Music-hall pathos, the authors probably feeling that the
+audience could not stand any more. It should be explained
+that the "tum-tum" at the end of certain lines is not intended
+to be sung&mdash;it is merely an indication to the orchestra
+to pinch their violins in a <i>pizzicato</i> manner. The singer
+should either come on as a serious black man&mdash;for burnt cork
+is a marvellous provocative of pathos&mdash;or as his ordinary self.
+In either case he should wear evening dress, with a large
+brilliant on each hand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h4>THE NIGHT-LIGHT EVER BURNING
+BY THE BED.</h4>
+
+
+<p class="p10"><i>First Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+<span class="smcap">I've</span> been thinking of the home where my early years were spent,<br>
+<span class="p1">'Neath the care of a kind maiden aunt, (<i>Tum</i>-tum-<i>tum</i>!)</span><br>
+And to go there once again has been often my intent,<br>
+<span class="p1">But the railway fare's expensive, so I can't! (<i>Tum</i>-tum!)</span><br>
+Still I never can forget that night when last we met:<br>
+<span class="p1">"Oh, promise me&mdash;whate'er you do!" she said, (<i>Tum</i>-tum-<i>tum</i>!)</span><br>
+"Wear flannel next your chest, and, when you go to rest,<br>
+<span class="p1">Keep a night-light always burning by your bed!" (<i>Tum</i>-tum!)</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p10 top2"><i>Refrain</i> (<i>pianissimo.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+<span class="p6">And my eyes are dim and wet;</span><br>
+<span class="p6">For I seem to hear them yet&mdash;</span><br>
+Those solemn words at parting that she said: (<i>Tum</i>-tum-<i>tum</i>!)<br>
+<span class="p6">"Now, mind you burn a night-light,</span><br>
+<span class="p6">&mdash;'Twill last until it's quite light&mdash;</span><br>
+<span class="p1">In a saucerful of water by your bed!" (<i>Tum</i>-tum!)</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p10 top2"><i>Second Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+I promised as she wished, and her tears I gently dried,<br>
+<span class="p1">As she gave me all the halfpence that she had: (<i>Tum</i>-tum-<i>tum</i>!)</span><br>
+And through the world e'er since I have wandered far and wide,<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span><span class="p1">And been gradually going to the bad! (<i>Tum</i>-tum!)</span><br>
+Many a folly, many a crime I've committed in my time,<br>
+<span class="p1">For a lawless and a chequered life I've led! (<i>Tum</i>-tum-<i>tum</i>.)</span><br>
+Still I've kept the promise sworn&mdash;flannel next my skin I've worn,<br>
+<span class="p1">And I've always burnt a night-light by my bed! (<i>Tum</i>-tum!)</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p12 top2"><i>Refrain.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+<span class="p6">All unhallowed my pursuits,</span><br>
+<span class="p6">(Oft to bed I've been in boots!)</span><br>
+Still o'er my uneasy slumber has been shed (<i>Tum</i>-tum-<i>tum</i>!)<br>
+<span class="p6">The moderately bright light</span><br>
+<span class="p6">Afforded by a night-light,</span><br>
+<span class="p3">In a saucerful of water by my bed! (<i>Tum</i>-tum!)</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p4 top2"><i>Third Verse.</i> (<i>To be sung with increasing solemnity.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+A little while ago, in a dream my aunt I saw;<br>
+<span class="p1">In her frill-surrounded night-cap there she stood! (<i>Tum</i>-tum-<i>tum</i>!)</span><br>
+And I sought to hide my head 'neath the counterpane in awe,<br>
+<span class="p1">And I trembled&mdash;for my conscience isn't good! (<i>Tum</i>-tum!)</span><br>
+But her countenance was mild&mdash;so indulgently she smiled<br>
+<span class="p1">That I knew there was no further need for dread! (<i>Tum</i>-tum-<i>tum</i>!)</span><br>
+She had seen the flannel vest enveloping my chest,<br>
+<span class="p1">And the night-light in its saucer by my bed! (<i>Tum</i>-tum!)</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p7 top2"><i>Refrain</i> (<i>more pianissimo still.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+<span class="p6">But ere a word she spoke,</span><br>
+<span class="p6">I unhappily awoke!</span><br>
+And away, alas! the beauteous vision fled! (<i>Tum</i>-tum-<i>tum</i>!)<br>
+(<i>In mournful recitation</i>)&mdash;There was nothing but the slight light<br>
+<span class="p6">Of the melancholy night-light</span><br>
+<span class="p2">That was burning in a saucer by my bed! (<i>Tum</i>-tum!)</span><br>
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="c25"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 225px;">
+<a href="images/080a.jpg"><img src="images/080.jpg" width="225" height="535" alt="The Military Impersonator." title="">
+</a><span class="caption smcap">The Military Impersonator.</span>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="XIII_THE_MILITARY_IMPERSONATOR" id="XIII_THE_MILITARY_IMPERSONATOR"></a><span class="smcap">xiii.</span>&mdash;THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">To</span> be a successful Military Impersonator, the principal
+requisite is a uniform, which may be purchased for a moderate
+sum, second-hand, in the neighbourhood of almost any
+barracks. Some slight acquaintance with the sword exercise
+and elementary drill is useful, though not absolutely essential.
+Furnished with these, together with a few commanding
+attitudes, and a song possessing a spirited, martial refrain,
+the Military Impersonator may be certain of an instant and
+striking success upon the Music-hall stage,&mdash;especially if he
+will condescend to avail himself of the ballad provided by <i>Mr.
+Punch</i>, as a vehicle for his peculiar talent. And&mdash;though we
+say it ourselves&mdash;it is a very nice ballad, to which Mr.
+McDougall himself would find it difficult to take exception.
+It is in three verses, too&mdash;the limit understood to be formally
+approved by the London County Council for such productions.
+It may be, indeed, that (save so far as the last verse
+illustrates the heroism of our troops in action&mdash;a heroism too
+real and too splendid to be rendered ridiculous, even by
+Military Impersonators), the song does <i>not</i> convey a particularly
+accurate notion of the manner and pursuits of an
+officer in the Guards. But then no Music-hall ditty can ever
+be accepted as a quite infallible authority upon any social type
+it may undertake to depict&mdash;with the single exception,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
+perhaps, of the Common (or Howling) Cad. So that any
+lack of actuality here will be rather a merit than a blemish in
+the eyes of an indulgent audience. Having said so much, we
+will proceed to our ballad, which is called,&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<h4>IN THE GUARDS!</h4>
+
+
+<p class="p10"><i>First Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+<span class="smcap">I'm</span> a Guardsman, and my manner is perhaps a bit "haw-haw;"<br>
+But when you're in the Guards you've got to show <i>esprit de corps</i>.<br>
+<span class="p12">[<i>Pronounce "a spreedy core."</i></span><br>
+We look such heavy swells, you see, we're all aristo-cràts,<br>
+When on parade we stand arrayed in our 'eavy bearskin 'ats.
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p2 top2"><i>Chorus</i> (<i>during which the Martial Star will march round the
+stage in military order.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+We're all "'Ughies," "Berties," "Archies,"<br>
+<span class="p8">In the Guards! Doncher know?</span><br>
+Twisting silky long moustarches,<br>
+<span class="p10">[<i>Suit the action to the word here.</i></span><br>
+<span class="p8">Bein' Guards! Doncher know?</span><br>
+While our band is playing Marches,<br>
+<span class="p8">For the Guards! Doncher know?</span><br>
+And the ladies stop to gaze upon the Guards,<br>
+<span class="p16">Bing-<i>Bang</i>!</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Here a member of the orchestra will oblige with the cymbals,
+while the Vocalist performs a military salute, as he passes
+to</i>&mdash;</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="p10 top2"><i>Second Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+With duchesses I'm 'and in glove, with countesses I'm thick;<br>
+From all the nobs I get invites&mdash;they say I am "so <i>chic</i>!"<br>
+<span class="p12">[<i>Pronounce "chick."</i></span><br>
+It often makes me laugh to read, whene'er I go off guard,<br>
+"Dear Bertie, come to my At Home!" on a coronetted card!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p10 top2"><i>Chorus.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+For we're "Berties," "'Ughies," "Archies,"<br>
+<span class="p8">In the Guards! Doncher know?</span><br>
+With our silky long moustarches,<br>
+<span class="p8">In the Guards! Doncher know?</span><br>
+Where's a regiment that marches<br>
+<span class="p8">Like the Guards? Doncher know?</span><br>
+All the darlings&mdash;bless 'em!&mdash;dote upon the Guards,<br>
+<span class="p18">Bing-<i>Bang</i>!</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p10 top2"><i>Third Verse.</i></p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Here comes the Singer's great chance, and by merely taking a
+little pains, he may make a tremendously effective thing
+out of it. If he can manage to slip away between the
+verses, and change his bearskin and scarlet coat for a
+solar topee and kharkee tunic at the wings, it will produce
+an enormous amount of enthusiasm, only he must not take
+</i>more<i> than five minutes over this alteration, or the
+audience&mdash;so curiously are British audiences constituted&mdash;may
+grow impatient for his return.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim p2">But hark! the trumpet sounds!... (<i>Here a member of the
+orchestra will oblige upon the trumpet.</i>) What's this?
+... (<i>The Singer will take a folded paper from his breast
+and peruse it with attention.</i>) We're ordered to the
+front!      <span class="p2">[<i>This should be shouted.</i></span></p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+We'll show the foe how "Carpet-Knights" can face the battle's brunt!<br>
+They laugh at us as "Brummels"&mdash;but we'll prove ourselves "Bay-yards!"
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Now the Martial Star will draw his sword and unfasten his
+revolver-case, taking up the exact pose in which he is
+represented upon the posters outside.</i></p>
+
+<p class="pim p2">As you were!... Form Square!... Mark Time!... Slope
+Arms!... now&mdash;'Tention!... (<i>These military evolutions
+should all be gone through by the Artist.</i>) Forward,
+Guards!      <span class="p2">[<i>To be yelled through music.</i></span></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="p10 top2"><i>Chorus.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Onward every 'ero marches,<br>
+<span class="p8">In the Guards! Doncher know?</span><br>
+All the "'Ughies," "Berties," "Archies,"<br>
+<span class="p8">Of the Guards! Doncher know?</span><br>
+They may twist their long moustarches,<br>
+<span class="p8">For they're Guards! Doncher know?</span><br>
+Dandies? yes,&mdash;but dandy <i>lions</i> are the Guards!<br>
+<span class="p18">Bing-<i>Bang</i>!</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Red fire and smoke at wings, as curtain falls upon the
+Military Impersonator in the act of changing to a new
+attitude.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+
+<hr class="c65">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="sec1">MODEL MUSIC HALL.</h2>
+<hr class="c10">
+<h2 class="sec2">DRAMAS.
+</h2>
+
+<hr class="c25">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 378px;">
+<a href="images/086a.jpg"><img src="images/086.jpg" width="378" height="533" alt="The Little Crossing-Sweeper." title="">
+</a><span class="caption smcap">The Little Crossing-Sweeper.</span>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="I_THE_LITTLE_CROSSING-SWEEPER" id="I_THE_LITTLE_CROSSING-SWEEPER"></a><span class="smcap">i</span>.&mdash;THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="dramah"><span class="smcap">Dramatis Personæ.</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table class="autotable">
+<tr><td class="left"><i>The Little Crossing-Sweeper</i></td>
+<td class="left">By the unrivalled Variety Artist</td>
+<td class="right">Miss <span class="smcap">Jenny Jinks</span>.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="left"><i>The Duke of Dillwater</i></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="right">Mr. <span class="smcap">Henry Irving</span>.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td colspan="3"><blockquote><p class="p2 pim topm1">[<i>Specially engaged; Mr. Punch is sure that he will cheerfully make
+some slight sacrifice for so good a cause, and he can easily slip
+out and get back again between the Acts of "Henry the 8th."</i></p></blockquote></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="left"><i>A Policeman</i></td><td>&nbsp;</td><td class="right">Mr. <span class="smcap">Rutland Barrington</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3"><blockquote><p class="p2 pim topm1">[<i>Engaged, at enormous expense, during the entire run of this piece.</i></p></blockquote></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left"><i>A Butler</i> (<i>his original part</i>)</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td class="right">Mr. <span class="smcap">Arthur Cecil</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left"><i>Foot-passengers</i>, <i>Flunkeys</i>, <i>Burglars.</i></td>
+<td colspan="2" class="right">By the celebrated Knockabout Quick-change Troupe.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim top2"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>&mdash;<i>Exterior of the</i> Duke's <i>Mansion in Euston Square
+by night. On the right, a realistic Moon (by kind permission
+of</i> Professor <span class="smcap">Herkomer</span>) <i>is rising slowly behind
+a lamp-post. On left centre, a practicable pillar-box,
+and crossing, with real mud. Slow Music, as</i> Miss
+<span class="smcap">Jenny Jinks</span> <i>enters, in rags, with broom. Various
+Characters cross the street, post letters, &amp;c.</i>; Miss <span class="smcap">Jinks</span>
+<i>follows them, begging piteously for a copper, which is
+invariably refused, whereupon she assails them with
+choice specimens of street sarcasm&mdash;which the Lady may
+be safely trusted to improvise for herself</i>.</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim"><i>Miss Jenny Jinks</i> (<i>leaning despondently against pillar-box,
+on which a ray of limelight falls in the opposite direction
+to the Moon</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Ah, this cruel London, so marble-'arted and vast,<br>
+Where all who try to act honest are condemned to fast!
+</p>
+
+<p class="top2 p8"><i>Enter two</i> Burglars, <i>cautiously</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>First B.</i> (<i>to</i> Miss J. J.) <span class="p1">We can put you up to a fake as will be worth your while,</span><br>
+For you seem a sharp, 'andy lad, and just our style!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>They proceed to unfold a scheme to break into the Ducal
+abode, and offer</i> Miss J. <i>a share of the spoil, if she
+will allow herself to be put through the pantry
+window</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Miss J. J.</i> (<i>proudly</i>). <span class="p1">I tell yer I won't 'ave nothink to do with it, fur I ain't been used</span><br>
+To sneak into the house of a Dook to whom I 'aven't been introdooced!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Second Burglar</i> (<i>coarsely</i>). <span class="p1">Stow that snivel, yer young himp, we don't want none of that bosh!</span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Miss J. J.</i> (<i>with spirit</i>). <span class="p1">You hold <i>your</i> jaw&mdash;for, when you opens yer mouth, there ain't much o' yer face left to wash!</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>The</i> Burglars <i>retire, baffled, and muttering</i>. Miss J.
+<i>leans against pillar-box again&mdash;but more irresolutely</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+I've arf a mind to run after 'em, I 'ave, and tell 'em I'm game to stand in!...<br>
+But, ah,&mdash;didn't my poor mother say as Burglary was a <i>Sin</i>!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[Duke <i>crosses stage in a hurry; as he pulls out his
+latchkey, a threepenny-bit falls unregarded, except
+by the little</i> Sweeper, <i>who pounces eagerly upon it</i>.</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+What's this? A bit o' good luck at last for a starvin' orfin boy!<br>
+What shall I buy? <i>I</i> know&mdash;I'll have a cup of cawfy, and a prime saveloy!<br>
+Ah,&mdash;<i>but it ain't mine</i>&mdash;and 'ark ... that music up in the air!</p>
+<p>
+<span class="p8">[<i>A harp is heard in the flies.</i></span></p>
+<p class="p4">
+Can it be mother a-playin' on the 'arp to warn her boy to beware?<br>
+(<i>Awestruck.</i>) There's a angel voice that is sayin' plain (<i>solemnly</i>) "Him as prigs what isn't his'n,<br>
+Is sure to be copped some day&mdash;and then&mdash;his time he will do in prison!"
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p8 pim">[<i>Goes resolutely to the door, and knocks&mdash;The</i> Duke
+<i>throws open the portals</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Miss J. J.</i> <span class="p1">If yer please, Sir, was you aware as you've dropped a thruppenny-bit?</span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The Duke</i> (<i>after examining the coin.</i>) <span class="p1">'Tis the very piece I have searched for everywhere! You rascal, you've <i>stolen it</i>!</span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Miss J. J.</i> (<i>bitterly</i>). And <i>that's</i> 'ow a Dook rewards honesty in <i>this</i> world!</p>
+<p>
+<span class="p8 pim">[<i>This line is sure of a round of applause.</i></span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The Duke</i> (<i>calling off</i>). <span class="p1">Policeman, I give this lad in charge for a shameless attempt to rob,</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="top2 p8"><i>Enter</i> Policeman.</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Unless he confesses instantly who put him up to the job!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
+<i>Miss J. J.</i> (<i>earnestly</i>). <span class="p1">I've told yer the bloomin' truth, I 'ave&mdash;or send I may die!</span><br>
+I'm on'y a Crossing-sweeper, Sir, but I'd scorn to tell yer a lie!<br>
+Give me a quarter of a hour&mdash;no more&mdash;just time to kneel down and pray,<br>
+As I used to at mother's knee long ago&mdash;then the Copper kin lead me away.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Kneels in lime-light. The</i> Policeman <i>turns away, and
+uses his handkerchief violently; the</i> Duke <i>rubs his
+eyes</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The Duke.</i> <span class="p1">No, blow me if I can do it, for I feel my eyes are all twitching!</span><br>
+(<i>With conviction.</i>) If he's good enough to kneel by his mother's side, he's good enough to be in my kitching!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[Duke <i>dismisses</i> Constable, <i>and, after disappearing into
+the Mansion for a moment, returns with a neat
+Page's livery, which he presents to the little</i> Crossing-sweeper.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Miss J. J.</i> (<i>naïvely</i>). <span class="p1">'Ow much shall I ask for on this, Sir? What! Yer don't mean to say they're for <i>me</i>!</span><br>
+Am I really to be a Page to one of England's proud aristocra-cee?</p>
+<p>
+<span class="p8 pim">[<i>Does some steps.</i></span>
+</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="top2 pim"><i>Mechanical change to</i> <span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>&mdash;<i>State Apartment at the</i>
+Duke's. <i>Magnificent furniture, gilding, chandeliers.
+Suits of genuine old armour. Statuary (lent by British
+and Kensington Museums).</i></p>
+
+<p class="pim"><i>Enter</i> Miss J., <i>with her face washed, and looking particularly
+plump in her Page's livery. She wanders about stage</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
+<i>making any humorous comments that may occur to her on
+the armour and statuary. She might also play tricks on
+the Butler, and kiss the maids&mdash;all of which will serve to
+relieve the piece by delicate touches of comedy, and
+delight a discriminating audience.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p10 top2"><i>Enter the</i> Duke.</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+I hope, my lad, that we are making you comfortable here?      <span class="p2">[<i>Kindly.</i></span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Miss J. J.</i> <span class="p1">Never was in such slap-up quarters in my life, Sir, <i>I'll</i> stick to yer, no fear!</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>In the course of conversation the</i> Duke <i>learns with
+aristocratic surprise, that the</i> Page's <i>Mother was a
+Singer at the Music Halls</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Miss J. J.</i> What, don't know what a Music-'all's like?
+and you a Dook! Well, you <i>are</i> a jolly old juggins! 'Ere,
+you sit down on this gilded cheer&mdash;that's the ticket&mdash;I'll
+bring you your champagne and your cigars&mdash;want a light?
+(<i>Strikes match on her pantaloons.</i>) Now you're all comfortable.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim"><i>The</i> Duke <i>sits down, smiling indulgently, out of her way, while
+she introduces her popular Vocal Character Sketch, of
+which space only permits us to give a few specimen verses</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p8">
+First the Champion Comic<br>
+<span class="p1">Steps upon the stage;</span><br>
+With his latest "Grand Success."<br>
+<span class="p1">Sure to be the rage!</span><br>
+Sixty pounds a week he<br>
+<span class="p1">Easily can earn;</span><br>
+Round the Music Halls he goes,<br>
+<span class="p1">And does at each a "turn."</span><br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="p10"><i>Illustration.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Undah the stors in a sweet shady dairl,<br>
+I strolled with me awm round a deah little gairl,<br>
+And whethaw I kissed har yaw'd like me to tairl&mdash;<br>
+<span class="p8">Well, I'd rawthah you didn't inquiah!</span></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+<span class="p5">All golden her hair is,</span><br>
+<span class="p4">She's Queen of the Fairies,</span><br>
+And known by the name of the lovely Mariah,<br>
+<span class="p5">She's a regular Venus,</span><br>
+<span class="p4">But what passed between us,</span><br>
+I'd very much rawthah you didn't inquiah!</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+Next the Lady Serio,<br>
+<span class="p1">Mincing as she walks;</span><br>
+If a note's too high for her,<br>
+<span class="p1">She doesn't sing&mdash;she talks,</span><br>
+What she thinks about the men<br>
+<span class="p1">You're pretty sure to learn,</span><br>
+She always has a hit at them,<br>
+<span class="p1">Before she's done her "turn!"</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p10"><i>Illustration.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+You notty young men, ow! you notty young men!<br>
+You tell us you're toffs, and the real Upper Ten,<br>
+But behind all your ears is the mark of a pen!<br>
+So don't you deceive us, you notty young men!</p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Miss J. J.</i> (<i>concluding</i>). <span class="p1">And such, Sir, are these entertainments grand,</span><br>
+In which Mirth and Refinement go 'and-in-'and!<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>As the</i> Duke <i>is expressing his appreciation of the elevating
+effect of such performances, the</i> Butler <i>rushes in,
+followed by two flurried</i> Footmen.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Butler.</i> <span class="p1">Pardon this interruption, my Lord, but I come to announce the fact</span><br>
+That by armed house-breakers the pantry has just been attacked!</p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Duke.</i> <span class="p1">Then we'll repel them&mdash;each to his weapons look!</span><br>
+I know how to defend my property, although I <i>am</i> a Dook!</p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Miss J.</i> (<i>snatching sword from one of the men-in-armour</i>).<br>
+With such a weapon I their hash will settle!<br>
+<i>You'll</i> lend it, won't yer, old Britannia Metal?<br>
+<span class="p8">[<i>Shouts and firing without; the</i> Footmen <i>hide under sofa</i>.</span><br>
+Let flunkeys flee&mdash;though danger may encircle us,<br>
+A British Buttons ain't afeard of Burgulars!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Tremendous firing, during which the</i> Burglars <i>are supposed
+to be repulsed with heavy loss by the</i> Duke,
+Butler, <i>and</i> Page.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Miss J.</i> <span class="p1">'Ere&mdash;I say, Dook, I saved yer life, didn't yer <i>know</i>?</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8 pim">(<i>A parting shot, upon which she staggers back with a ringing
+scream</i>.)</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+The Brutes! they've been and shot me!... Mother!... Oh!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Dies in lime-light and great agony; the</i> Footmen <i>come
+out from under sofa and regard with sorrowing
+admiration the lifeless form of the</i> Little Crossing-sweeper,
+<i>which the</i> Duke, <i>as curtain falls, covers
+reverently with the best table-cloth</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+
+
+<hr class="c25">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="II_JOE_THE_JAM-EATER" id="II_JOE_THE_JAM-EATER"></a><span class="smcap">ii.</span>&mdash;JOE, THE JAM-EATER.</h2>
+
+<h5><i>A MUSICAL SPECTACULAR AND SENSATIONAL
+INTERLUDE.</i></h5>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>Dedicated respectfully to Mr. McDougall and the L. C. C.</i>)</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 397px;">
+<a href="images/094a.jpg"><img src="images/094.jpg" width="397" height="323" alt="Joe!" title="">
+</a><span class="caption">Joe!</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Music-hall Dramatist, like Shakspeare and Molière,
+has a right to take his material from any source that may
+seem good to him. <i>Mr. Punch</i>, therefore, makes no secret
+of the fact, that he has based the following piece upon the
+well-known poem of "The Purloiner," by the Sisters Jane
+and Ann Taylor, who were <i>not</i>, as might be too hastily concluded,
+"Song and Dance Duettists," but two estimable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
+ladies, who composed "cautionary" verses for the young, and
+whose works are a perfect mine of wealth for Moral Dramatists.
+In this dramatic version the Author has tried to
+infuse something of the old Greek sense of an overruling
+destiny, without detriment to prevailing ideas of moral responsibility.
+Those who have the misfortune to be born
+with a propensity for illicit jam, may learn from our Drama
+the terrible results of failing to overcome it early in life.</p>
+
+
+<h4>JOE, THE JAM-EATER.</h4>
+
+<p class="dramah"><span class="smcap">Dramatis Personæ.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p8"><p><i>Jam-Loving Joe.</i> <span class="p1">By</span> that renowned Melodramatic Serio-Comic,
+Miss <span class="smcap">Connie Curdler</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Joe's Mother</i> (<i>the very part for</i> Mrs. <span class="smcap">Bancroft</span> <i>if she can only be induced
+to make her reappearance</i>).</p>
+
+<p><i>John, a Gardener.</i> <span class="p1">By</span> the great Pink-eyed Unmusical Zulu.</p>
+
+<p><i>Jim-Jam, the Fermentation Fiend.</i> <span class="p1">By</span> Mr. <span class="smcap">Beerbohm Tree</span> (<i>who
+has kindly consented to undertake the part</i>).</p>
+
+<p><i>Chorus of Plum and Pear Gatherers, from the Savoy</i> (<i>by kind permission
+of</i> Mr. <span class="smcap">D'oyly Carte</span>).</p></div>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="top2 pim"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>The Store-room at sunset with view of exterior of
+Jam Cupboard, and orchard in distance.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="center top2"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Joe</span>.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="vide">"As Joe was at play, Near the cupboard one day, When he thought
+no one saw but himself."&mdash;<i>Vide Poem.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p6 pim4">
+<i>Joe</i> (<i>dreamily</i>.) <span class="p1">'Tis passing strange that I so partial am</span><br>
+To playing in the neighbourhood of Jam!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Here</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Curdler</span> <i>will introduce her great humorous
+Satirical Medley illustrative of the Sports of Childhood,
+and entitled,</i> "Some little Gymes we all of us 'ave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>
+Plied;" <i>after which, Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Joe's</span> <i>Mother, followed by</i>
+<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and the Chorus, with baskets, ladders, &amp;c., for
+gathering fruit</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<blockquote><p class="vide">"His Mother and John, To the garden had gone, To gather ripe
+pears and ripe plums."&mdash;<i>Poem.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Joe's Mother</i> (<i>with forced cheerfulness</i>)&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Let's hope, my friends, to find our pears and plums,<br>
+Unharmed by wopses, and untouched by wums.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>Chorus signify assent in the usual manner by holding up the
+right hand.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Solo</i>&mdash;<span class="smcap">John.</span></p>
+
+<p class="p6">
+Fruit, when gathered ripe, is wholesome&mdash;<br>
+<span class="p1">Otherwise if eaten green.</span><br>
+Once I know a boy who stole some&mdash;<br>
+<span class="p8">[<i>With a glance at <span class="smcap">Joe</span>, who turns aside to conceal his confusion.</i></span><br>
+<span class="p1">His internal pangs were keen!</span></p>
+
+<p class="pim p4">
+<i>Chorus</i> (<i>virtuously</i>). <span class="p1">'Tis the doom of all who're mean,</span><br>
+Their internal pangs are keen!</p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim"><i>Joe's Mother</i> (<i>aside</i>). <span class="p1">By what misgivings is a mother tortured!</span><br>
+I'll keep my eye on Joseph in the orchard.</p>
+<p>
+<span class="p8">[<i>She invites him with a gesture to follow.</i></span></p>
+<p class="pim p4">
+<i>Joe</i> (<i>earnestly</i>). <span class="p1">Nay, Mother, here I'll stay till you have done.</span><br>
+Temptation it is ever best to shun!</p>
+<p class="pim p4">
+<i>Joe's M</i>. <span class="p1">So laudable his wish, I would not cross it&mdash;</span><br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>(<i>Mysteriously.</i>) He knows not there are jam-pots in yon closet!</p>
+
+<p class="pim4 p6">
+<i>Chorus.</i> <span class="p1">Away we go tripping,</span><br>
+From boughs to be stripping<br>
+Each pear, plum, and pippin<br>
+<span class="p2">Pomona supplies!</span><br>
+When homeward we've brought 'em,<br>
+Those products of Autumn,<br>
+We'll carefully sort 'em<br>
+<span class="p3">(<i>One of our old Music-hall rhymes</i>),</span><br>
+<span class="p2">According to size!&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; [<i>Repeat as they caper out.</i></span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<span class="smcap">Joe's</span> Mother, <i>after one fond, lingering look behind, follows:
+the voices are heard more and more faintly in the distance.
+Stage darkens: the last ray of sunset illumines
+key of jam-cupboard door.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Joe.</i> <span class="p1">At last I am alone! Suppose I tried</span><br>
+That cupboard&mdash;just to see what's kept inside?<br>
+<span class="p8">[<i>Seems drawn towards it by some fatal fascination.</i></span><br>
+There <i>might</i> be Guava jelly, and a plummy cake,<br>
+For such a prize I'd laugh to scorn a stomach-ache!<br>
+<span class="p8">[<i>Laughs a stomach-ache to scorn.</i></span><br>
+And yet (<i>hesitating</i>) who knows?&mdash;a pill ... perchance&mdash;a powder!<br>
+(<i>Desperately.</i>) What then? To scorn I'll laugh them&mdash;even louder!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Fetches chair and unlocks cupboard. Doors fall open with
+loud clang, revealing Interior of Jam Closet (painted
+by</i> <span class="smcap">Hawes Craven</span>). <span class="smcap">Joe</span> <i>mounts chair to explore
+shelves.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<blockquote><p class="vide">"How sorry I am, He ate raspberry jam, And currants that
+stood on the shelf!"&mdash;<i>Vide Poem.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Joe</i> (<i>speaking with mouth full and back to audience</i>).<br> 'Tis
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>raspberry&mdash;of all the jams my favourite;<br>
+I'll clear the pot, whate'er I have to pay for it!<br>
+And finish up with currants from this shelf ...<br>
+Who'll ever see me?</p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The</i> Demon <i>of the Jam Closet (rising slowly from an immense
+pot of preserves</i>).<br>No one&mdash;but Myself!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>The cupboard is lit up by an infernal glare (courteously lent
+by the Lyceum Management from "Faust" properties);
+weird music</i>; <span class="smcap">Joe</span> <i>turns slowly and confronts the</i> Demon
+<i>with awestruck eyes.</i> N.B.&mdash;<i>Great opportunity for
+powerful acting here.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The Demon (with a bland sneer</i>). <span class="p1">Pray don't mind <i>me</i>&mdash;I will await your leisure.</span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Joe</i> (<i>automatically</i>). <span class="p1">Of your acquaintance, Sir, I've not the pleasure.</span><br>
+Who are you? Wherefore have you intervened?</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The Demon</i> (<i>quietly</i>). <span class="p1">My name is "Jim-Jam;" occupation&mdash;fiend.</span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Joe,</i> (<i>cowering limply on his chair</i>). <span class="p1">O Mr. Fiend, I <i>know</i> it's very wrong of me!</span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Demon</i> (<i>politely</i>). <span class="p1">Don't mention it&mdash;but please to come "along of" me?</span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Joe</i> (<i>imploringly</i>). <span class="p1">Do let me off this once,&mdash;ha! you're relenting,</span><br>
+You smile&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Demon</i> (<i>grimly</i>). <span class="p1">'Tis nothing but my jam fermenting!</span></p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>Catches</i> <span class="smcap">Joe's</span> <i>ankle, and assists him to descend.</i></p></blockquote>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Joe</i>. You'll drive me mad!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Demon</i> (<i>carelessly</i>).    <span class="p1">I <i>may</i>&mdash;before I've done with you!</span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Joe</i>. What do you want?</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Demon</i> (<i>darkly</i>).   <span class="p1">To have a little fun with you!</span><br>
+Of fiendish humour now I'll give a specimen.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>Chases him round and round stage, and proceeds to smear
+him hideously with jam.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Joe</i> (<i>piteously</i>). <span class="p1">Oh, don't! I feel <i>so</i> sticky. <i>What</i> a mess I'm in!</span></p>
+<p class="pim p4">
+<i>Demon</i> (<i>with affected sympathy</i>). <span class="p1">That <i>is</i> the worst of jam&mdash;it's apt to stain you.</span></p>
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Joe</span>, <i>as he frantically
+endeavours to remove the
+traces of his crime.</i></p></blockquote>
+<p class="p4">
+I see you're busy&mdash;so I'll not detain you!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Vanishes down star-trap
+with a diabolical laugh.
+Cupboard-doors close
+with a clang; all lights
+down.</i> <span class="smcap">Joe</span> <i>stands gazing
+blankly for some
+moments, and then drags
+himself off stage. His
+Mother and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>with
+Pear-and-Plum-gatherers
+bearing laden baskets,
+appear at doors at back
+of Scene, in faint light of
+torches.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 269px;">
+<a href="images/099a.jpg"><img src="images/099.jpg" width="269" height="395" alt="The Demon!" title="">
+</a><span class="caption">The Demon!</span>
+</div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim"><i>Re-enter</i> <span class="smcap">Joe</span> <i>bearing a candle and wringing his hands.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Joe.</i> <span class="p1">Out, jammed spot! What&mdash;will these hands <i>never</i> be clean?</span><br>
+Here's the smell of the raspberry jam still! All the powders
+of Gregory cannot unsweeten this little hand ... (<i>Moaning.</i>)
+Oh, oh, oh!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>This passage has been accused of bearing too close a resemblance
+to one in a popular Stage Play; if so, the coincidence
+is purely accidental, as the Dramatist is not in the
+habit of reading such profane literature.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pim p4">
+<i>Joe's Mother.</i> <span class="p1">Ah! what an icy dread my heart benumbs!</span><br>
+See&mdash;stains on all his fingers, and his thumbs!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="vide">"What Joe was about, His mother found out, When she look'd at
+his fingers and thumbs."&mdash;<i>Poem again.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">Nay, Joseph&mdash;'tis your mother ... speak to her!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Joe</i> (<i>tonelessly, as before</i>). Lady, I know you not (<i>touches
+lower part of waistcoat</i>); but, prithee, undo this button. I
+think I have jam in all my veins, and I would fain sleep.
+When I am gone, lay me in a plain white jelly-pot, with a
+parchment cover, and on the label write&mdash;but come nearer, I
+have a secret for your ear alone ... there are strange things
+in <i>some</i> cupboards! Demons should keep in the dust-bin.
+(<i>With a ghastly smile.</i>) I know not what ails me, but I am
+not feeling at all well.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<span class="smcap">Joe's</span> Mother <i>stands a few steps from him, with her hands
+twisted in her hair, and stares at him in speechless terror.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Joe</i> (<i>to the Chorus</i>). I would shake hands with you all,
+were not my fingers so sticky. We eat marmalade, but we
+know not what it is made of. Hush! if Jim-Jam comes
+again, tell him that I am not at home. Loo-loo-loo!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>All</i> (<i>with conviction</i>). Some shock has turned his brine!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Joe</i> (<i>sitting down on floor, and weaving straws in his hair.</i>)
+My curse upon him that invented jam. Let us all play
+Tibbits.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Laughs vacantly; all gather round him, shaking their
+heads, his</i> Mother <i>falls fainting at his feet as curtain
+falls upon a strong and moral, though undeniably gloomy
+dénoûment.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<hr class="c25">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="III_THE_MAN-TRAP" id="III_THE_MAN-TRAP"></a><span class="smcap">iii.</span>&mdash;THE MAN-TRAP.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">This</span> Drama, which, like our last, has been suggested by a
+poem of the Misses Taylor, will be found most striking and
+impressive in representation upon the Music-hall stage. The
+dramatist has ventured to depart somewhat from the letter,
+though not the spirit, of the original text, in his desire to
+enforce the moral to the fullest possible extent. Our present
+piece is intended to teach the great lesson that an inevitable
+Nemesis attends apple-stealing in this world, and that Doom
+cannot be disarmed by the intercession of the evil-doer's
+friends, however well-meaning.</p>
+
+
+<h4>THE MAN-TRAP!</h4>
+
+<h5><i>A THRILLING MORAL MUSICAL SENSATION SKETCH
+IN ONE SCENE.</i></h5>
+
+<p class="dramah"><span class="smcap">Dramatis Personæ.</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table class="autotable">
+<tr><td class="left"><i>William</i> (<i>a Good Boy</i>)</td><td class="left">Mr. <span class="smcap">Harry Nicholls.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left"><i>Thomas</i> (<i>a Bad Boy</i>)</td><td class="left">Mr. <span class="smcap">Herbert Campbell.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center"><blockquote><p class="topm1 center">(<i>Who have kindly offered their services.</i>)</p></blockquote></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left"><i>Benjamin</i> (<i>neither one thing nor the other</i>)</td><td class="left">Mr. <span class="smcap">Samuel Super.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left"><i>The Monster Man-Trap</i></td><td class="left">Mr. <span class="smcap">George Conquest.</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="top2 pim"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>&mdash;<i>An elaborate set, representing, on extreme left, a
+portion of the high road, and wall dividing it from an
+orchard; realistic apple- and pear-trees laden with fruit.
+Time, about four o'clock on a hot afternoon.</i> <span class="p2"><i>Enter</i></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
+<span class="smcap">William</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>, <i>hand-in-hand, along road; they
+ignore the dividing wall, and advance to front of stage.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="top2 p8"><i>Duet.</i>&mdash;<span class="smcap">William</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Wm.</i> <span class="p1">I'm a reg'lar model boy, I am; so please make no mistake.</span><br>
+<span class="p3">It's Thomas who's the bad 'un&mdash;<i>I'm</i> the good!</span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Thos.</i> <span class="p1">Yes, I delight in naughtiness for naughtiness's sake,</span><br>
+<span class="p3">And I wouldn't be like William if I could!</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="top2 p10"><i>Chorus.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Wm.</i> <span class="p1">Ever since I could toddle, my conduct's been model,</span><br>
+<span class="p3">There's, oh, such a difference between me and him!</span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Thos.</i> <span class="p1">While still in the cradle, I orders obeyed ill,</span><br>
+<span class="p3">And now I've grown into a awful young limb!</span></p>
+<p class="toplarge">
+<span class="p12">&nbsp;&nbsp;he's</span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Together.</i> <span class="p1">Yes,</span> now <span class="large">{</span> I've <span class="large">}</span> grown into a awful young limb.<br>
+<span class="p3">I've made up my mind not to imitate <i>him</i>!</span></p>
+<p class="p22">
+[<i>Here they dance.</i>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="top2 p8"><i>Second Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Wm.</i> <span class="p1">If someone hits him in the eye, he always hits them back!</span><br>
+<span class="p3">When <i>I</i> am struck, my Ma I merely tell!</span><br>
+<span class="p1">On</span> passing fat pigs in a lane, he'll give 'em each a whack!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Thos.</i> (<i>impenitently</i>). <span class="p1">And jolly fun it is to hear 'em yell!</span></p>
+<p class="p22">
+                                             [<i>Chorus.</i>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="top2 p8"><i>Third Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Wm.</i> <span class="p1">He's</span> always cribbing coppers&mdash;which he spends on lollipops.</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Thos.</i> <span class="p2">(A share of</span> which <i>you</i>'ve never yet refused!)</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span><i>Wm.</i> <span class="p1">A stone</span> he'll shy at frogs and toads, and anything that hops!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Thos.</i> <span class="p2">(While</span> you look on, and seem to be amused!)</p>
+<p class="p22">
+                                             [<i>Chorus.</i>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="top2 p8"><i>Fourth Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Wm.</i> <span class="p1">As</span> soon as school is over, Thomas goes a hunting squirr'ls,<br>
+<span class="p3">Or butterflies he'll capture in his hat!</span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Thos.</i> <span class="p1"><i>You</i></span> play at Kissing in the Ring with all the little girls!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Wm.</i> (<i>demurely</i>). <span class="p1">Well,</span> Thomas, I can see no harm in <i>that</i>!</p>
+<p class="p22">
+                                             [<i>Chorus.</i>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="top2 p8"><i>Fifth Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Wm.</i> <span class="p1">Ah,</span> Thomas, if you don't reform, you'll come to some bad end!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Thos.</i>   <span class="p2">Oh,</span> William, put your head inside a bag!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Wm.</i> <span class="p1">No,</span> Thomas, that I cannot&mdash;till you promise to amend!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Thos.</i>   <span class="p2">Why,</span> William, what a chap you are to nag!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Chorus and dance.</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>returns to road, and
+regards the apple-trees longingly over top of wall.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Thos.</i> <span class="p1">Hi,</span> William, look ... what apples! there&mdash;don't <i>you</i> see?<br>
+And pears&mdash;my eye! just <i>ain't</i> they looking juicy!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Wm.</i> <span class="p1">Nay,</span> Thomas, since you're bent upon a sin,<br>
+<i>I</i> will walk on, and visit Benjamin!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">William</span> (<span class="smcap">l. 2 e.</span>),
+<i>while</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>proceeds to scale the
+wall and climb the boughs of the nearest pear-tree.
+Melodramatic Music.</i> The Monster Man-trap <i>stealthily
+emerges from long grass below, and fixes a baleful eye on
+the unconscious</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Thos.</i> <span class="p1">I'll</span> fill my pockets, and on pears I'll feast!</p>
+<p class="p8">
+[<i>Sees</i> Man-trap, <i>and staggers.</i>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="p4">Oh, lor&mdash;whatever is that hugly beast!<br>
+Hi, help, here! call him off!...</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The Monster.</i>         <span class="p4">'Tis</span> vain to holler&mdash;<br>
+My horders are&mdash;all trespassers to swoller!<br>
+You just come down&mdash;I'm waiting 'ere to ketch you.<br>
+(<i>Indignantly.</i>) You <i>don't</i> expect I'm coming up to fetch you!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Thos.</i> (<i>politely.</i>) <span class="p1">Oh,</span> not if it would inconvenience <i>you</i>, Sir!<br>
+(<i>In agonised aside.</i>) I feel my grip grow every moment looser!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p8">[<i>The</i> Monster, <i>in a slow, uncouth manner, proceeds to scramble
+up the tree.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Oh, here's a go! The horrid thing can <i>climb</i>!<br>
+Too late I do repent me of my crime!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Terrific sensation chase!</i> The Monster Man-trap <i>leaps from
+bough to bough with horrible agility, and eventually
+secures his prey, and leaps with it to the ground.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Thos.</i> (<i>in the</i> Monster's <i>jaws</i>). <span class="p1">I'm</span> sure you seem a kind, good-natured creature&mdash;<br>
+You will not harm me?</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Monster.</i>          <span class="p8">No&mdash;I'll</span> only eat yer!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>slowly vanishes down its cavernous jaws; faint yells
+are heard at intervals&mdash;then nothing but a dull champing
+sound; after which, dead silence. The</i> Monster <i>smiles,
+with an air of repletion.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="top2 p8"><i>Re-enter</i> <span class="smcap">William</span>, <i>from</i> <span class="smcap">r.</span>, <i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Benjamin</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Benjamin.</i> <span class="p1">I'm</span> very glad you came&mdash;but where is Thomas?</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Wm.</i> (<i>severely</i>). <span class="p1">Tom</span> is a wicked boy, and better from us,<br>
+For on the road he stopped to scale a wall!...</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim p10">
+[<i>Sees</i> Man-trap, <i>and starts.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>What's <i>that</i>?</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Benj.</i>       <span class="p4">It</span> will not hurt <i>good</i> boys at all&mdash;<br>
+It's only Father's Man-trap&mdash;why so pale?</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Wm.</i> <span class="p1">The</span> self-same tree! ... the wall that Tom <i>would</i> scale!<br>
+Where's Thomas <i>now</i>? Ah, Tom, the wilful pride of you.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>The</i> Man-trap <i>affects an elaborate unconsciousness.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 246px;">
+<a href="images/105a.jpg"><img src="images/105.jpg" width="246" height="381" alt="Up a Tree!" title="">
+</a><span class="caption">Up a Tree!</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Benj.</i> (<i>with sudden enlightenment</i>). <span class="p1">Man-trap,</span> I do believe poor Tom's inside of you!<br>
+That sort of smile's exceedingly suspicious.</p>
+<p>
+<span class="p8">[<i>The</i> Man-trap <i>endeavours to hide in the grass.</i></span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Wm.</i> <span class="p1">Ah,</span> Monster, give him back&mdash;'tis true he's vicious,<br>
+And had no business to go making free with you!<br>
+But think, so bad a boy will disagree with you!<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<span class="smcap">William</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Benjamin</span> <i>kneel in attitudes of entreaty on either
+side of the</i> Man-trap, <i>which shows signs of increasing
+emotion as the song proceeds.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div style="float: left; width: 40%; border-right: thin solid black; padding: 0em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;">
+<p class="top2 p8"><i>Benjamin</i> (<i>sings</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Man-trap, bitter our distress is<br>
+<span class="p1">That you have unkindly penned</span><br>
+In your innermost recesses<br>
+<span class="p1">One who used to be our friend!</span>
+</p></div>
+
+<div style="float: left; width: 40%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;">
+<p class="top2 p8"><i>William</i> (<i>sings</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+In his downward course arrest him!<br>
+<span class="p1">(He may take a virtuous tack);</span><br>
+Pause awhile, ere you digest him,<br>
+<span class="p1">Make an effort&mdash;bring him back!</span>
+</p></div>
+
+<div style="clear: both;"></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>The</i> Man-trap <i>is convulsed by a violent heave</i>; <span class="smcap">William</span> and
+<span class="smcap">Benjamin</span> <i>bend forward in an agony of expectation, until
+a small shoe and the leg of</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas's</span> <i>pantaloons are
+finally emitted from the</i> Monster's <i>jaws.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Benj.</i> (<i>exultantly</i>). <span class="p1">See,</span> William, now he's coming ... here's his shoe for you!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The Man-trap</i> (<i>with an accent of genuine regret</i>). <span class="p1">I'm sorry&mdash;but</span> that's all that I can do for you!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Wm.</i> (<i>raising the shoe and the leg of pantaloons, and holding
+them sorrowfully at arm's length</i>).<br>
+He's met the fate which moralists all promise is<br>
+The end of such depraved careers as Thomas's!<br>
+Oh, Benjamin, take warning by it <i>be</i>-time!<br>
+(<i>More brightly</i>). But now to wash our hands&mdash;'tis nearly tea-time!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">William</span> and <span class="smcap">Benjamin</span>, <i>to wash their hands, as
+Curtain falls. N.B. This finale is more truly artistic,
+and in accordance with modern dramatic ideas, than the
+conventional "picture."</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+
+<hr class="c25"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="IV_THE_FATAL_PIN" id="IV_THE_FATAL_PIN"></a><span class="smcap">iv.</span>&mdash;THE FATAL PIN.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Our</span> present example is pure tragedy of the most ambitious
+kind, and is, perhaps, a little in advance of the taste of a
+Music-hall audience of the present day. When the fusion
+between the Theatres and the Music Halls is complete&mdash;when
+Miss Bessie Bellwood sings "<i>What Cheer, 'Ria?</i>" at the
+Lyceum, and Mr. Henry Irving gives his compressed version
+of <i>Hamlet</i> at the Trocadero; when there is a general levelling-up
+of culture, and removal of prejudice&mdash;then, and not till
+then, will this powerful little play meet with the appreciation
+which is its due. The main idea is suggested by the Misses
+Taylor's well-known poem, <i>The Pin</i>, though the dramatist
+has gone further than the poetess in working out the notion
+of Nemesis.</p>
+
+
+<h4>THE FATAL PIN.</h4>
+
+<h5><i>A TRAGEDY.</i></h5>
+
+
+<p class="dramah"><span class="smcap">Dramatis Personæ.</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table class="autotable">
+<tr><td class="left"><i>Emily Heedless.</i></td><td class="left">By either Miss <span class="smcap">Vesta Tilley</span> or Mrs. <span class="smcap">Bernard Beere</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left"><i>Peter Paragon.</i></td><td class="left">Mr. <span class="smcap">Forbes Robertson</span> or Mr. <span class="smcap">Arthur Roberts</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="left"><blockquote><p class="topm1">(only he mustn't sing "<i>The Good Young Man who Died</i>").</p></blockquote></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left"><i>First and Second Bridesmaids.</i></td><td class="left">Miss <span class="smcap">Maude Millett</span> and Miss <span class="smcap">Annie Hughes</span>.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p>
+<blockquote><p class="top2 pim"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>&mdash;<span class="smcap">Emily's</span> <i>Boudoir, sumptuously furnished with a
+screen and sofa,</i> <span class="smcap">c.</span> <i>Door</i>, <span class="smcap">r.</span>, <i>leading to</i> <span class="smcap">Emily's</span> <i>Bed-chamber.
+Door,</i> <span class="smcap">l.</span> <span class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>discovered in loose wrapper,
+and reclining in uncomfortable position on sofa.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Emily</i> (<i>dreamily</i>). <span class="p1">This</span> day do I become the envied bride<br>
+Of Peter, justly surnamed Paragon;<br>
+And much I wonder what in me he found<br>
+(He, who Perfection so personifies)<br>
+That he could condescend an eye to cast<br>
+On faulty feather-headed Emily!<br>
+How solemn is the stillness all around me!</p>
+<p>
+<span class="p10 pim">[<i>A loud bang is heard behind screen.</i></span></p>
+<p class="p4">
+Methought I heard the dropping of a pin!&mdash;<br>
+Perhaps I should arise and search for it....<br>
+Yet why, on second thoughts, disturb myself,<br>
+Since I am, by my settlements, to have<br>
+A handsome sum allowed for pin-money?<br>
+Nay, since thou claim'st thy freedom, little pin,<br>
+I lack the heart to keep thee prisoner.<br>
+Go, then, and join the great majority<br>
+Of fallen, vagrant, unregarded pinhood&mdash;<br>
+My bliss is too supreme at such an hour<br>
+To heed such infidelities as thine.</p>
+<p class="p12 pim">
+[<i>Falls into a happy reverie.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Enter</i> First and Second Bridesmaids.</p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>First and Second Bridesmaids.</i> <span class="p1">What,</span> how now, Emily&mdash;not yet attired?<br>
+Nay, haste, for Peter will be here anon!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>They hurry her off by</i> <span class="smcap">r.</span> <i>door, just as</i> <span class="smcap">Peter Paragon</span>
+<i>enters</i> <span class="smcap">l.</span> <i>in bridal array. N.B.&mdash;The exigencies
+of the Drama are responsible for his making his
+appearance here, instead of waiting, as is more
+usual, at the church.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
+<i>Peter</i> (<i>meditatively</i>). <span class="p1">The</span> golden sands of my celibacy<br>
+Are running low&mdash;soon falls the final grain!<br>
+Yet, even now, the glass I would not turn.<br>
+My Emily is not without her faults<br>
+"<i>Was</i> not without them," I should rather say,<br>
+For during ten idyllic years of courtship,
+</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
+<a href="images/109a.jpg"><img src="images/109.jpg" width="300" height="390" alt="&quot;It is a Pin!&quot;" title="">
+</a><span class="caption">&quot;It is a Pin!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p4">
+By precept and example I have striven<br>
+To mould her to a helpmate fit for me.<br>
+Now, thank the Gods, my labours are complete.<br>
+She stands redeemed from all her giddiness!</p>
+<p class="p10 pim">[<i>Here he steps upon the pin, and utters an exclamation.</i></p>
+<p class="p4">
+Ha! What is this? I'm wounded ... agony!<br>
+With what a darting pain my foot's transfixed!<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>I'll summon help (<i>with calm courage</i>)&mdash;yet, stay, I would not dim<br>
+This nuptial day by any sombre cloud.<br>
+I'll bear this stroke alone&mdash;and now to probe<br>
+The full extent of my calamity.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Seats himself on sofa in such a position as to be concealed
+by the screen from all but the audience, and
+proceeds to remove his boot.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Ye powers of Perfidy, it is a pin!<br>
+I must know more of this&mdash;for it is meet<br>
+Such criminal neglect should be exposed.<br>
+Severe shall be that house-maid's punishment<br>
+Who's proved to be responsible for this!&mdash;<br>
+But soft, I hear a step.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Enter</i> First <i>and</i> Second Bridesmaids, <i>who hunt diligently
+upon the carpet without observing</i> Peter's
+<i>presence.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Emily's Voice</i> (<i>within</i>). <span class="p1">Oh,</span> search, I pray you.<br>
+It <i>must</i> be there&mdash;my own ears heard it fall!</p>
+<p>
+<span class="p10 pim">[<span class="smcap">Peter</span> <i>betrays growing uneasiness.</i></span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The Bridesmaids.</i> <span class="p1">Indeed,</span> we fail to see it anywhere!
+</p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim"><i>Emily</i> (<i>entering distractedly in bridal costume, with a large
+rent in her train</i>).<br>
+You have no eyes, I tell you, let me help.<br>
+It must be found, or I am all undone!<br>
+In vain my cushion I have cut in two<br>
+'Twas void of all but stuffing ... Gracious Heavens,<br>
+To think that all my future bliss depends<br>
+On the evasive malice of a pin!</p>
+<p class="p12 pim">
+[<span class="smcap">Peter</span> <i>behind screen, starts violently.</i></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Peter</i> (<i>aside</i>). <span class="p1">A pin!</span> what dire misgivings wring my
+heart!
+</p>
+
+<p class="pim p12">[<i>Hops forward with a cold dignity, holding one foot in
+his hand.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+You seem in some excitement, Emily?
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Emily</i> (<i>wildly</i>). <span class="p1"><i>You</i>,</span> Peter!... tell me&mdash;have you found a pin?</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Peter</i> (<i>with deadly calm</i>). <span class="p1">Unhappy</span> girl&mdash;I <i>have</i>! (<i>To</i> Bridesmaids.) Withdraw awhile,<br>
+And should we need you, we will summon you.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Exeunt</i> Bridesmaids; <span class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Peter</span> <i>stand facing
+each other for some moments in dead silence.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+The pin is found&mdash;for I have trodden on it,<br>
+And may, for aught I know, be lamed for life.<br>
+Speak, Emily, what is that maid's desert<br>
+Whose carelessness has led to this mishap?</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Emily</i> (<i>in the desperate hope of shielding herself</i>).<br>
+Why, should the fault he traced to any maid,<br>
+Instant dismissal shall be her reward,<br>
+With a month's wages paid in lieu of notice!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Peter</i> (<i>with a passionless severity</i>).<br>
+From your own lips I judge you, Emily.<br>
+Did they not own just now that you had heard<br>
+The falling of a pin&mdash;yet heeded not?<br>
+Behold the outcome of your negligence!</p>
+<p>
+<span class="p12 pim">[<i>Extends his injured foot.</i></span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Emily</i>.   <span class="p1">Oh,</span> let me kiss the place and make it well!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Peter</i> (<i>coldly withdrawing foot</i>).   <span class="p1">Keep</span> your caresses till I ask for them.<br>
+My wound goes deeper than you wot of yet,<br>
+And by that disregarded pin is pricked<br>
+The iridescent bubble of Illusion!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Emily</i> (<i>slowly</i>). <span class="p1">Indeed,</span> I do not wholly comprehend.</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Peter.</i> <span class="p1">Have</span> patience and I will be plainer yet.<br>
+Mine is a complex nature, Emily;<br>
+Magnanimous, but still methodical.<br>
+An injury I freely can forgive,<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>Forget it (<i>striking his chest</i>), never! She who leaves about<br>
+Pins on the floor to pierce a lover's foot,<br>
+Will surely plant a thorn within the side<br>
+Of him whose fate it is to be her husband!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Emily</i> (<i>dragging herself towards him on her knees</i>). <span class="p1">Have</span> pity on me, Peter; I was mad!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Peter</i> (<i>with emotion</i>). <span class="p1">How</span> can I choose but pity thee, poor soul,<br>
+Who, for the sake of temporary ease,<br>
+Hast forfeited the bliss that had been thine!<br>
+You could not stoop to pick a pin up. Why?<br>
+Because, forsooth, 'twas but a paltry pin!<br>
+Yet, duly husbanded, that self-same pin<br>
+Had served you to secure your gaping train,<br>
+Your self-respect&mdash;and Me.</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Emily</i> (<i>wailing</i>). <span class="p1">What</span> have I done?</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Peter</i>. <span class="p1">I will</span> not now reproach you, Emily,<br>
+Nor would I dwell upon my wounded sole,<br>
+The pain of which increases momently.<br>
+I part from you in friendship, and in proof,<br>
+That fated instrument I leave with you
+</p>
+
+<p class="p12 pim">[<i>Presenting her with the pin, which she accepts mechanically.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Which the frail link between us twain has severed.<br>
+I can dispense with it, for in my cuff
+</p>
+
+<p class="p12 pim">[<i>Shows her his coat-cuff, in which a row of pins'-heads is
+perceptible.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+I carry others 'gainst a time of need.<br>
+My poor success in life I trace to this<br>
+That never yet I passed a pin unheeded.</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Emily.</i> <span class="p1">And</span> is that all you have to say to me?</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Peter.</i> <span class="p1">I think</span> so&mdash;save that I shall wish you well,<br>
+And pray that henceforth you may bear in mind<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>What vast importance lies in seeming trifles.</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Emily</i> (<i>with a pale smile</i>). <span class="p1">Peter,</span> your lesson is already learned,<br>
+For precious has this pin become for me,<br>
+Since by its aid I gain oblivion&mdash;thus!      <span class="p2">[<i>Stabs herself.</i></span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Peter</i> (<i>coldly.</i>) <span class="p1">Nay,</span> these are histrionics, Emily.</p>
+<p>
+<span class="p12 pim">[<i>Assists her to sofa.</i></span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Emily.</i> <span class="p1">I'd</span> skill enough to find a vital spot.<br>
+Do not withdraw it yet&mdash;my time is short,<br>
+And I have much to say before I die.<br>
+(<i>Faintly.</i>) Be gentle with my rabbits when I'm gone;<br>
+Give my canary chickweed now and then.<br>
+... I think there is no more&mdash;ah, one last word&mdash;<br>
+(<i>Earnestly</i>)&mdash;Warn them they must not cut our wedding-cake,<br>
+And then the pastrycook may take it back!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Peter</i> (<i>deeply moved</i>).  <span class="p1">Would</span> you had shown this thoughtfulness before! <span class="p2">[</span><i>Kneels by the sofa.</i></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Emily.</i> <span class="p1">'Tis</span> now too late, and clearly do I see<br>
+That I was never worthy of you, Peter.</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Peter</i> (<i>gently</i>). <span class="p1">'Tis</span> not for me to contradict you now.<br>
+You did your best to be so, Emily!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Emily.</i> <span class="p1">A blessing</span> on you for those generous words!<br>
+Now tell me, Peter, how is your poor foot?</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Peter.</i> <span class="p1">The</span> agony decidedly abates,<br>
+And I can almost bear a boot again.</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Emily.</i> <span class="p1">Then</span> I die happy!... Kiss me, Peter ... ah!</p>
+<p class="p12 pim">
+[<i>Dies.</i></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Peter.</i> <span class="p1">In peace</span> she passed away. I'm glad of that,<br>
+Although that peace was purchased by a lie.<br>
+I shall not bear a boot for many days!<br>
+Thus ends our wedding morn, and she, poor child,<br>
+Has paid the penalty of heedlessness!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Curtain falls, whereupon, unless Mr. Punch is greatly
+mistaken, there will not be a dry eye in the house.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<hr class="c25"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="V_BRUNETTE_AND_BLANCHIDINE" id="V_BRUNETTE_AND_BLANCHIDINE"></a><span class="smcap">v.</span>&mdash;BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE.</h2>
+
+<h5><i>A MELODRAMATIC DIDACTIC VAUDEVILLE.</i></h5>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Suggested by "The Wooden Doll and the Wax Doll," by
+the Misses Jane and Ann Taylor.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="dramah"><span class="smcap">Dramatis Personæ.</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table class="autotable">
+<tr>
+<td class="left"><i>Blanchidine</i>,<br><i>Brunette.</i></td><td class="left"><span class="large">}</span></td>
+<td class="left">By the celebrated Sisters <span class="smcap">Stilton</span>, the Champion<br>
+Duettists and Clog-Dancers.</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="left"><i>Fanny Furbelow.</i></td>
+<td class="left">&nbsp;</td><td class="left">By Miss <span class="smcap">Sylvia Sealskin</span> (<i>by kind permission<br>
+of the Gaiety Management</i>).</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="left"><i>Frank Manly.</i></td><td class="left">&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="left">By Mr. <span class="smcap">Henry Neville.</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<p class="top2 pim"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>A sunny Glade in Kensington Gardens, between the
+Serpentine and Round Pond.</i></p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Blanchidine</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Brunette</span>, <i>with their arms thrown
+affectionately around one another.</i> <span class="smcap">Blanchidine</span> <i>is
+carrying a large and expressionless wooden doll.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Duet and Step-dance.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Bl.</i> <span class="p1">Oh,</span> I do adore <span class="smcap">Brunette</span>! <span class="p1">(<i>Dances.</i>)</span> <span class="p1">Tippity-tappity,</span>
+tappity-tippity, tippity-tappity, tip-tap!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Br.</i> <span class="p1"><span class="smcap">Blanchidine's</span></span> the sweetest pet! <span class="p1">(<i>Dances.</i>)</span> <span class="p1">Tippity-tappity,</span> &amp;c.</p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Together.</i> <span class="p2">When the sun is high,</span><br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span><span class="p8">We come out to ply,</span><br>
+<span class="p8">Nobody is nigh,</span><br>
+<span class="p8">All is mirth and j'y!</span><br>
+<span class="p8">With a pairosol,</span><br>
+<span class="p8">We'll protect our doll,</span><br>
+<span class="p8">Make a mossy bed</span><br>
+<span class="p8">For her wooden head!</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Combination step-dance during which both watch their feet
+with an air of detached and slightly amused interest, as if
+they belonged to some other persons.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Clickity-clack, clickity-clack, clickity, clickity, clickity-clack;<br>
+clackity-clickity, clickity-clackity, clackity-clickity-<i>clack</i>! <span class="p1">[<i>Repeat ad. lib.</i></span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Bl.</i> (<i>apologetically to Audience</i>).  <span class="p1">Her</span> taste in dress is rather plain!
+<span class="p1">(<i>Dances.</i>)</span> <span class="p1">Tippity-tappity,</span> &amp;c.</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Br.</i> (<i>in pitying aside</i>).  <span class="p1">It</span> <i>is</i> a pity she's so vain!
+<span class="p1">(<i>Dances.</i>)</span> <span class="p1">Tippity-tappity,</span> &amp;c.</p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Bl.</i>      <span class="p4">&nbsp;&nbsp;'Tis</span> a shime to smoile,<br>
+<span class="p8">But she's shocking stoyle,</span><br>
+<span class="p8">It is quite a troyal,</span><br>
+<span class="p8">Still&mdash;she mikes a foil!</span></p>
+<p class="pi">
+<i>Br.</i>       <span class="p4">&nbsp;&nbsp;Often</span> I've a job<br>
+<span class="p8">To suppress a sob,</span><br>
+<span class="p8">She is such a snob,</span><br>
+<span class="p8">When she meets a nob!</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>Step-dance as before.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[N.B.&mdash;<i>In consideration of the well-known difficulty that
+most popular Variety-Artists experience in the metrical
+delivery of decasyllabic couplets, the lines which follow
+have been written as they will most probably be spoken.</i></p></blockquote>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Bl.</i> (<i>looking off with alarm</i>). <span class="p1">Why,</span> here comes Fanny Furbelow, a new frock from Paris in!<br>
+She'll find me with Brunette&mdash;it's <i>too</i> embarrassing!</p>
+<p class="p18">[<i>Aside.</i></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+(<i>To Brunette.</i>) <span class="p1">Brunette,</span> my love, I know <i>such</i> a pretty game we'll play at&mdash;<br>
+Poor Timburina's ill, and the seaside she ought to stay at.<br>
+(The Serpentine's the seaside, let's pretend.)<br>
+And <i>you</i> shall take her there&mdash;(<i>hypocritically</i>)&mdash;you're such a friend!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Br.</i> (<i>with simplicity</i>). <span class="p1">Oh,</span> yes, that <i>will</i> be splendid, Blanchidine,<br>
+And then we can go and have a dip in a bathing-machine!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<span class="smcap">Blan</span>. <i>resigns the wooden doll to</i> <span class="smcap">Brun.</span>, <i>who skips off with it</i>,
+<span class="smcap">l.</span>, <i>as</i> <span class="smcap">Fanny Furbelow</span> <i>enters</i> <span class="smcap">r.</span>, <i>carrying a magnificent
+wax doll</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Fanny</i> (<i>languidly</i>). <span class="p1">Ah,</span> howdy do&mdash;<i>isn't</i> this heat too<br>
+frightful? And so you're quite alone?</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Bl.</i> (<i>nervously.</i>) <span class="p1">Oh,</span> <i>quite</i>&mdash;oh yes, I always am alone,<br>
+when there's nobody with me.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>This is a little specimen of the Lady's humorous "gag," at
+which she is justly considered a proficient.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Fanny</i> (<i>drawling</i>).      <span class="p1">Delightful!</span><br>
+When I was wondering, only a little while ago,<br>
+If I should meet a creature that I know;<br>
+Allow me&mdash;my new doll, the Lady Minnie!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>Introducing doll.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Bl.</i> (<i>rapturously</i>). <span class="p1">Oh,</span> what a perfect love!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Fanny.</i><span class="p8">She</span> ought to be&mdash;for a guinea!<br><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
+Here, you may nurse her for a little while.<br>
+Be careful, for her frock's the latest style.</p>
+<p>
+<span class="pim p14">[<i>Gives</i> <span class="smcap">Blan.</span> <i>the wax doll</i>.</span></p>
+<p class="p4">
+She's the best wax, and has three changes of clothing&mdash;<br>
+For those cheap wooden dolls I've quite a loathing.</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Bl.</i> (<i>hastily</i>). <span class="p1">Oh,</span> so have <i>I</i>&mdash;they're not to be endured!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim top2"><i>Re-enter</i> <span class="smcap">Brunette</span> <i>with the wooden doll, which she tries to
+press upon</i> <span class="smcap">Blanchidine</span>, <i>much to the latter's confusion</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Br.</i> <span class="p1">I've</span> brought poor Timburina back, completely cured!<br>
+Why, aren't you pleased? Your face is looking <i>so</i> cloudy!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>F.</i> (<i>haughtily</i>). <span class="p1">Is</span> she a friend of <i>yours</i>&mdash;this little dowdy?      <span class="p1">[<i>Slow music.</i></span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Bl.</i> (<i>after an internal struggle</i>). <span class="p1">Oh,</span> no, what an idea!<br>
+Why, I don't even know her by name!<br>
+Some vulgar child ...</p>
+<p>
+<span class="pim p10">[<i>Lets the wax doll fall unregarded on the gravel.</i></span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Br.</i> (<i>indignantly</i>). <span class="p1">Oh,</span> what a horrid shame!<br>
+I see <i>now</i> why you sent us to the Serpentine!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Bl.</i> (<i>heartlessly</i>). <span class="p1">There's</span> no occasion to flare up like turpentine.</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Br.</i> (<i>ungrammatically</i>). <span class="p1">I'm</span> <i>not</i>! Disown your doll, and thrust me, too, aside!<br>
+The one thing left for both of us is&mdash;suicide!<br>
+Yes, Timburina, us no more she cherishes&mdash;<br>
+(<i>Bitterly.</i>) Well, the Round Pond a handy place to perish is!</p>
+<p>
+<span class="p10 pim">[<i>Rushes off stage with wooden doll.</i></span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Bl.</i> (<i>making a feeble attempt to follow</i>). <span class="p1">Come</span> back,
+Brunette; don't leave me thus, in charity!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim"><i>F.</i> (<i>with contempt</i>). <span class="p1">Well,</span> I'll be off&mdash;since you seem to prefer vulgarity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Bl.</i> <span class="p1">No,</span> stay&mdash;but&mdash;ah, she said&mdash;what if she <i>meant</i> it?</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>F.</i> <span class="p1">Not she!</span> And, if she did, <i>we</i> can't prevent it.</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Bl.</i> (<i>relieved</i>). <span class="p1">That's</span> true&mdash;we'll play, and think no more about her.</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>F.</i> (<i>sarcastically</i>). <span class="p1">We</span> may <i>just</i> manage to get on without her!<br>
+So come&mdash;&mdash;<span class="p1">(</span><i>Perceives doll lying face upwards on path.</i>)<br>
+You odious girl, what have you done?<br>
+Left Lady Minnie lying in the blazing sun!<br>
+'Twas done on purpose&mdash;oh, you <i>thing</i> perfidious!      <span class="p1">[<i>Stamps.</i></span><br>
+You <i>knew</i> she'd melt, and get completely hideous!<br>
+Don't answer <i>me</i>, Miss&mdash;I wish we'd never met.<br>
+You're only fit for persons like Brunette!</p>
+<p>
+<span class="p10 pim">[<i>Picks up doll, and exit in passion.</i></span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="top2 center"><i>Grand Sensation Descriptive Soliloquy, by</i> <span class="smcap">Blanchidine</span>, <i>to Melodramatic Music</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Bl.</i> Gone! Ah, I am rightly punished! What would I not
+give now to have homely little Brunette, and dear old wooden-headed
+Timburina back again! <i>She</i> wouldn't melt in the
+sun.... Where are they now? Great Heavens! that
+threat&mdash;that rash resolve ... I remember all! 'Twas in the
+direction of the Pond they vanished. (<i>Peeping anxiously
+between trees.</i>) Are they still in sight? ... Yes, I see
+them? Brunette has reached the water's edge ... What is
+she purposing! Now she kneels on the rough gravel; she is
+making Timburina kneel too! How calm and resolute they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
+both appear! (<i>Shuddering.</i>) I dare not look further&mdash;but ah,
+I must&mdash;<i>I must</i>!... Horror! I saw her boots flash for an
+instant in the bright sunlight: and now the ripples have
+closed, smiling, over her little black stockings!... Help!&mdash;save
+her, somebody!&mdash;help!... Joy! a gentleman has
+appeared on the scene&mdash;how handsome, how brave he looks!
+He has taken in the situation at a glance! With quiet composure
+he removes his coat&mdash;oh, <i>don't</i> trouble about folding
+it up!&mdash;and why, <i>why</i> remove your gloves, when there is not
+a moment to be lost? Now, with many injunctions, he entrusts
+his watch to a bystander, who retires, overcome by
+emotion. And now&mdash;oh, gallant, heroic soul!&mdash;now he is
+sending his toy-terrier into the seething water! (<i>Straining</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>
+<i>eagerly forward.</i>) Ah, the dog paddles bravely out&mdash;he has
+reached the spot ... oh, he has passed it!&mdash;he is trying to
+catch a duck! Dog, dog, <i>is</i> this a time for pursuing ducks?
+At last he understands&mdash;he dives ... he brings up&mdash;agony!
+a small tin cup! Again ... <i>this</i> time, surely&mdash;what, only
+an old pot-hat!... Oh, this dog is a fool! And still the
+Round Pond holds its dread secret! Once more ... yes&mdash;no,
+yes, it <i>is</i> Timburina! Thank Heaven, she yet breathes!
+But Brunette? Can she have stuck in the mud at the
+bottom? Ha, she, too, is rescued&mdash;saved&mdash;ha-ha-ha!&mdash;saved,
+saved, saved!</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Swoons hysterically amid deafening applause.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 336px;">
+<a href="images/119a.jpg"><img src="images/119.jpg" width="336" height="392" alt="&quot;Saved&mdash;ha-ha-ha!&quot;" title="">
+</a><span class="caption">&quot;Saved&mdash;ha-ha-ha!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="top2 center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Frank Manly</span> <i>supporting</i> <span class="smcap">Brunette</span>, <i>who carries</i>
+<span class="smcap">Timburina</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Bl.</i> (<i>wildly</i>). <span class="p1">What,</span> do I see you safe, beloved Brunette?</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Br.</i> <span class="p1">Yes,</span> thanks to his courage, I'm not even <i>wet</i>!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Frank</i> (<i>modestly</i>). <span class="p1">Nay,</span> spare your compliments. To rescue Beauty,<br>
+When in distress, is every hero's duty!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Bl.</i> <span class="p1">Brunette,</span> forgive&mdash;I'm cured of all my folly!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Br.</i> (<i>heartily</i>). <span class="p1">Of </span>course I will, my dear, and so will dolly!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Grand Trio and Step-dance, with "tippity-tappity,"
+and "clickity-clack" refrain as finale.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<hr class="c25"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="VI_COMING_OF_AGE" id="VI_COMING_OF_AGE"></a><span class="smcap">vi</span>.&mdash;COMING OF AGE.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Our</span> present Drama represents an attempt to illustrate
+upon the Music-hall stage the eternal truth that race <i>will</i>
+tell in the long run, despite&mdash;but, on second thoughts, it
+does not <i>quite</i> prove that, though it certainly shows the unerring
+accuracy of parental&mdash;at least, that is not exactly its
+tendency, either; and the fact is that <i>Mr. Punch</i> is more
+than a little mixed himself as to the precise theory which it
+is designed to enforce. He hopes, however, that, as a
+realistic study of Patrician life and manners, it will possess
+charms for a democratic audience.</p>
+
+
+<h4>COMING OF AGE.</h4>
+
+<h5><i>A GRAND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGICAL COMEDY-DRAMA
+IN ONE ACT.</i></h5>
+
+
+<p class="dramah"><span class="smcap">Dramatis Personæ.</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table class="autotable">
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="left"><i>The Earl of Burntalmond.</i></td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="left"><i>The Countess of Burntalmond (his wife).</i></td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="left"><i>Robert Henry Viscount Bullsaye (their son and heir).</i></td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="left"><i>The Lady Rose Caramel (niece to the Earl).</i></td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left lhch"><i>Horehound</i><br>
+<i>Mrs. Horehound</i><br>
+<i>Coltsfoot Horehound</i></td>
+<td class="left"><span class="large3">}</span></td>
+<td class="center">Travelling as "The Celebrated Combination<br>
+Korffdropp Troupe," in their refined and<br>
+elegant Drawing-room Entertainment.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="3"><i>Tenantry.</i></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="top2 pim"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>The Great Quadrangle of Hardbake Castle; banners,
+mottoes, decorations, &amp;c. On the steps</i>, <span class="smcap">r.</span>, <i>the Earl,</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
+<i>supported by his wife, son, and niece, is discovered in the
+act of concluding a speech to six tenantry, who display all
+the enthusiasm that is reasonably to be expected at nine-pence
+a night.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Earl</i> (<i>patting</i> Lord <span class="smcap">Bullsaye's</span> <i>shoulder</i>). I might say
+more, Gentlemen, in praise of my dear son, Lord Bullsaye,
+here&mdash;I might dwell on his extreme sweetness, his strongly
+marked character, the variety of his tastes, and the singular
+attraction he has for children of all ages&mdash;but I forbear. I
+will merely announce that on this day&mdash;the day he has
+selected for attaining his majority&mdash;he has gratified us all by
+plighting troth to his cousin, the Lady Rose Caramel, with
+whose dulcet and clinging disposition he has always possessed
+the greatest natural affinity.      <span class="p2">[<i>Cheers.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord Bullsaye</i> (<i>aside to</i> Lady R.). Ah, Rose, would such
+happiness could last! But my heart misgives me strangely&mdash;why,
+I know not.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady R.</i> Say not so, dear Bullsaye&mdash;have you not just
+rendered me the happiest little Patrician in the whole peerage?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord B.</i> 'Tis true&mdash;and yet, and yet&mdash;pooh, let me snatch
+the present hour!      <span class="p2">[<i>Snatches it.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Earl.</i> And now, let the Revels commence.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim top2"><i>Enter the</i> Korffdropp Troupe, <i>who give their marvellous
+Entertainment, entitled, "The Three Surprise Packets;"
+after which</i>&mdash;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Horehound.</i> This will conclude the first portion of our
+Entertainment, Lords, Ladies, <i>and</i> Gentlemen; and, while
+my wife and pardner retires to change her costoom for the
+Second Part, I should be glad of the hoppertoonity of a short
+pussonal hexplanation with the noble Herl on my right.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Exit</i> Mrs. <span class="smcap">Horehound</span>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Earl</i> (<i>graciously</i>). I will hear you, fellow! (<i>Aside.</i>)
+Strange how familiar his features seem to me!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Horeh.</i> The fact is, your Lordship's celebrating the coming
+of hage of the <i>wrong heir</i>. (<i>Sensation&mdash;i.e., the six tenantry
+shift from one leg to the other, and murmur feebly.</i>) Oh, I
+can prove it. Twenty-one years ago&mdash;(<i>slow music</i>)&mdash;I was in
+your Lordship's service as gamekeeper, 'ead whip, and hextry
+waiter. My son and yours was born the selfsame day, and
+my hold dutch was selected to hact as foster-mother to the
+youthful lord. Well&mdash;(<i>tells a long, and not entirely original,
+story; marvellous resemblance between infants, only distinguishable
+by green and magenta bows, &amp;c., &amp;c.</i>) Soon
+after, your Lordship discharged me at a moment's notice&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Earl</i> (<i>haughtily</i>). I did, upon discovering that you
+were in the habit of surreptitiously carrying off kitchen-stuff,
+concealed within your umbrella. But proceed with your
+narration.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Horeh.</i> I swore to be avenged, and so&mdash;(<i>common form
+again; the shifted bows</i>)&mdash;consequently, as a moment's reflection
+will convince you, the young man on the steps, in the
+button-'ole and tall 'at, is my lawful son, while the real
+Viscount is&mdash;(<i>presenting</i> <span class="smcap">Coltsfoot</span>, <i>who advances modestly on
+his hands</i>)&mdash;'ere!</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Renewed sensation.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Earl.</i> This is indeed a startling piece of intelligence.
+(<i>To</i> Lord B.) And so, Sir, it appears that your whole life
+has been one consistent imposition&mdash;a gilded <i>lie</i>?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord B.</i> Let my youth and inexperience at the time, Sir,
+plead as my best excuse!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The E.</i> Nothing can excuse the fact that you&mdash;you, a low-born
+son of the people, have monopolised the training, the
+tenderness and education, which were the due of your
+Patrician foster-brother. (<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Coltsfoot</span>.) Approach, my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>
+injured, long-lost boy, and tell me how I may atone for these
+years of injustice and neglect!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Colts.</i> Well, Guv'nor, if you could send out for a pot o'
+four arf, it 'ud be a <i>beginning</i>, like.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The E.</i> You shall have every luxury that befits your rank,
+but first remove that incongruous garb.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Colts.</i> (<i>to</i> Lord B.). These 'ere togs belong to <i>you</i> now,
+young feller, and I reckon exchange ain't no robbery.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord B.</i> (<i>with emotion, to</i> Countess). Mother, can you
+endure to behold your son in tights and spangles on the very
+day of his majority?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Countess</i> (<i>coldly</i>). On the contrary, it is my wish to see
+him attired as soon as possible, in a more appropriate
+costume.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord B.</i> (<i>to</i> Lady R.). Rose, <i>you</i>, at least, have not
+changed? Tell me you will love me still even on the
+precarious summit of an acrobat's pole!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady Rose</i> (<i>scornfully</i>). Really the presumptuous familiarity
+of the lower orders is perfectly appalling!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The Earl</i> (<i>to</i> Countess, <i>as</i> Lord B. <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Coltsfoot</span> <i>retire to
+exchange costumes</i>). At last, Pauline, I understand why I
+could never feel towards Bullsaye the affection of a parent.
+Often have I reproached myself for a coldness I could not
+overcome.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Countess.</i> And I too! Nature was too strong for us. But,
+oh, the joy of recovering our son&mdash;of finding him so strong,
+so supple, so agile. Never yet has our line boasted an heir
+who can feed himself from a fork strapped on to his dexter
+heel!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The E.</i> (<i>with emotion</i>). Our beloved, boneless boy!</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Re-enter</i> <span class="smcap">Coltsfoot</span> <i>in modern dress, and</i> Lord B. <i>in tights</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Colts.</i> Don't I look slap-up&mdash;O.K. and no mistake? Oh,
+I <i>am</i> 'aving a beano!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>All.</i> What easy gaiety, and unforced animation!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The E.</i> My dear boy, let me present you to your <i>fiancée</i>.
+Rose, my love, this is your <i>legitimate</i> lover.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 281px;">
+<a href="images/125a.jpg"><img src="images/125.jpg" width="281" height="399" alt="Lord B. in tights." title="">
+</a><span class="caption">Lord B. in tights.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Colts.</i> Oh, all right, <i>I've</i> no objections&mdash;on'y there'll be
+ructions with the young
+woman in the tight-rope
+line as I've been
+keepin' comp'ny with&mdash;that's
+all!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The E.</i> Your foster-brother
+will act as
+your substitute there.
+(<i>Proudly.</i>) <i>My</i> son
+must make no <i>mésalliance</i>!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Rose</i> (<i>timidly</i>). And,
+if it would give you
+any pleasure, I'm sure
+I could soon learn the
+tight-rope!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Colts.</i> Not at <i>your</i>
+time o' life, Miss, and
+besides, 'ang it, now
+I'm a lord, I can't have
+my wife doin' nothing low!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The E.</i> Spoken like a true Burntalmond! And now let
+the revels re-commence.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Re-enter</i> Mrs. Horehound.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Horeh.</i> (<i>to</i> Lord B.). Now then, stoopid, tumble, can't you&mdash;what
+are you 'ere <i>for</i>?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord B.</i> (<i>to the</i> Earl). Since it is your command, I obey,
+though it is ill tumbling with a heavy heart!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Turns head over heels laboriously.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Colts.</i> Call <i>that</i> a somersault? 'Ere, 'old my 'at (<i>giving
+tall hat to</i> Lady R.) <i>I'll</i> show yer 'ow to do a turn.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Throws a triple somersault.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>All.</i> What condescension! How his aristocratic superiority
+is betrayed, even in competition with those to the manner
+born!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mrs. Horeh.</i> (<i>still in ignorance of the transformation</i>).
+Halt! I have kept silence till now&mdash;even from my husband,
+but the time has come when I <i>must</i> speak. Think you that
+if he were indeed a lord, he could turn such somersaults as
+those? No&mdash;no. I will reveal all. (<i>Tells same old story&mdash;except
+that she herself from ambitious motives transposed the
+infants' bows.</i>) Now, do with me what you will!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Horeh.</i> Confusion, so my ill-judged action did but redress
+the wrong I designed to effect!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The E.</i> (<i>annoyed</i>). This is a serious matter, reflecting as
+it does upon the legitimacy of my lately recovered son.
+What proof have you, woman, of your preposterous allegation?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Mrs. H.</i> None, my lord,&mdash;but these&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Exhibits two faded bunches of ribbon.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The E.</i> I cannot resist such overwhelming evidence, fight
+against it as I may.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord B.</i> (<i>triumphantly</i>). And so&mdash;oh, Father, Mother,
+Rose&mdash;dear, dear Rose&mdash;I am no acrobat, after all!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The E.</i> (<i>sternly</i>). Would you were anything half so
+serviceable to the community, Sir! I have no superstitious
+reverence for rank, and am, I trust, sufficiently enlightened to
+discern worth and merit&mdash;even beneath the spangled vest of
+the humblest acrobat. Your foster-brother, brief as our
+acquaintance has been, has already endeared himself to all
+hearts, while you have borne a trifling reverse of fortune
+with sullen discontent and conspicuous incapacity. He has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
+perfected himself in a lofty and distinguished profession
+during years spent by <i>you</i>, Sir, in idly cumbering the earth
+of Eton and Oxford. Shall I allow him to suffer by a purely
+accidental coincidence? Never! I owe him reparation, and
+it shall be paid to the uttermost penny. From this day, I
+adopt him as my eldest son, and the heir to my earldom, and
+all other real and personal effects. See, Robert Henry, that
+you treat your foster-brother as your senior in future!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Colts.</i> (<i>to</i> Lord B.). Way-oh, ole matey, I don't bear no
+malice, <i>I</i> don't! Give us your dooks.        <span class="p2">[<i>Offering hand.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The C.</i> Ah, Bullsaye, try to be worthy of such generosity!</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[Lord B. <i>grasps</i> <span class="smcap">Coltsfoot's</span> <i>hand in silence</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady Rose.</i> And pray, understand that, whether Mr.
+Coltsfoot be viscount or acrobat, it can make no difference
+whatever to the disinterested affection with which I have
+lately learnt to regard him.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Gives her hand to</i> <span class="smcap">Coltsfoot</span>, <i>who squeezes it with ardour</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Colts.</i> (<i>pleasantly</i>). Well, Father, Mother, your noble
+Herlship and Lady, foster-brother Bullsaye, and my pretty
+little sweetart 'ere, what do you all say to goin' inside and
+shunting a little garbage, and shifting a drop or so of lotion,
+eh?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>The E.</i> A most sensible suggestion, my boy. Let us
+make these ancient walls the scene of the blithest&mdash;ahem!&mdash;<i>beano</i>
+they have ever yet beheld!</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Cheers from Tenantry, as the</i> Earl <i>leads the way into the
+Castle with</i> Mrs. <span class="smcap">Horehound</span>, <i>followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Horehound</span>
+<i>with the</i> Countess <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Coltsfoot</span> <i>with</i> Lady
+<span class="smcap">Rose</span>, Lord <span class="smcap">Bullsaye</span>, <i>discomfited and abashed,
+entering last as Curtain falls</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<hr class="c25"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="VII_RECLAIMED" id="VII_RECLAIMED"></a><span class="smcap">vii.</span>&mdash;RECLAIMED!</h2>
+
+<h5>OR, HOW LITTLE ELFIE TAUGHT HER GRANDMOTHER.</h5>
+
+
+<p class="dramah"><span class="smcap">Characters.</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table class="autotable">
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="left"><i>Lady Belledame</i> (<i>a Dowager of the deepest dye</i>).</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="left"><i>Monkshood</i> (<i>her Steward, and confidential Minion</i>).</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="verttop left"><i>Little Elfie</i> (<i>an Angel Child</i>).</td><td class="left">This part has been specially constructed<br>
+for that celebrated Infant Actress, Banjoist, and Variety Comédienne,<br>
+Miss <span class="smcap">Birdie Callowchick</span>.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="top2 pim"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>The Panelled Room at Nightshade Hall.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady Belledame</i> (<i>discovered preparing parcels</i>). Old and
+unloved!&mdash;yes the longer I live, the more plainly do I perceive
+that I am <i>not</i> a popular old woman. Have I not
+acquired the reputation in the County of being a witch?
+My neighbour, Sir Vevey Long, asked me publicly only the
+other day "when I would like my broom ordered," and
+that minx, Lady Violet Powdray, has pointedly mentioned
+old cats in my hearing! Pergament, my family lawyer,
+has declined to act for me any longer, merely because
+Monkshood rack-rented some of the tenants a little too
+energetically in the Torture Chamber&mdash;as if in these hard
+times one was not justified in putting the screw on! Then
+the villagers scowl when I pass; the very children shrink
+from me&mdash;[<i>A childish Voice outside window,</i> "Yah, 'oo sold
+'erself to Old Bogie for a pound o' tea an' a set o' noo teeth?"]&mdash;that
+is, when they do not insult me by suggestions of
+bargains that are not even businesslike! No matter&mdash;I
+will be avenged upon them all&mdash;ay, all! 'Tis Christmas-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>time&mdash;the
+season at which sentimental fools exchange gifts
+and good wishes. For once I, too, will distribute a few
+seasonable presents.... (<i>Inspecting parcels.</i>) Are my
+arrangements complete? The bundle of choice cigars, in
+each of which a charge of nitro-glycerine has been dexterously
+inserted? The lip-salve, made up from my own prescription
+with corrosive sublimate by a venal chemist in the
+vicinity? The art flower-pot, containing a fine specimen of
+the Upas plant, swathed in impermeable sacking? The
+sweets compounded with sugar of lead? The packet of
+best ratsbane? Yes, nothing has been omitted. Now to
+summon my faithful Monkshood.... Ha! he is already at
+hand.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Chord as</i> <span class="smcap">Monkshood</span> <i>enters</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monkshood.</i> Your Ladyship, a child, whose sole luggage
+is a small bandbox and a large banjo, is without, and requests
+the favour of a personal interview.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> (<i>reproachfully</i>). And you, who have been with me
+all these years, and know my ways, omitted to let loose the
+bloodhounds? You grow careless, Monkshood!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> (<i>wounded</i>). Your Ladyship is unjust&mdash;I <i>did</i> unloose
+the bloodhounds; but the ferocious animals merely sat
+up and begged. The child had took the precaution to provide
+herself with a bun!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> No matter, she must be removed&mdash;I care not
+how.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> There may be room for one more&mdash;a little one&mdash;in
+the old well. The child mentioned that she was your
+Ladyship's granddaughter, but I presume that will make no
+difference?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> (<i>disquieted</i>). What!&mdash;then she must be the child
+of my only son Poldoodle, whom, for refusing to cut off the
+entail, I had falsely accused of adulterating milk, and trans<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>ported
+beyond the seas! She comes hither to denounce and
+reproach me! Monkshood, she must not leave this place
+alive&mdash;you hear?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> I require no second bidding&mdash;ha, the child ...
+she comes!</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Chord. Little</i> <span class="smcap">Elfie</span> <i>trips in with touching self-confidence.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie</i> (<i>in a charming little Cockney accent</i>). Yes, Grandma,
+it's me&mdash;little Elfie, come all the way from Australia to see
+you, because I thought you must be sow lownly all by yourself!
+My Papa often told me what a long score he owed you,
+and how he hoped to pay you off if he lived. But he went
+out to business one day&mdash;Pa was a bushranger, you know, and
+worked&mdash;oh, <i>so</i> hard; and never came back to his little Elfie,
+so poor little Elfie has come to live with you!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> Will you have the child removed now, my Lady?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> (<i>undecidedly</i>). Not now&mdash;not yet; I have other
+work for you. These Christmas gifts, to be distributed
+amongst my good friends and neighbours (<i>handing parcels</i>).
+First, this bundle of cigars to Sir Vevey Long with my best
+wishes that such a connoisseur in tobacco may find them
+sufficiently strong. The salve for Lady Violet Powdray, with
+my love, and it should be rubbed on the last thing at night.
+The plant you will take to the little Pergaments&mdash;'twill serve
+them for a Christmas tree. This packet to be diluted in a
+barrel of beer, which you will see broached upon the village
+green; these sweetmeats for distribution among the most
+deserving of the school-children.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie</i> (<i>throwing her arms around Lady B.'s neck</i>). I <i>do</i> like
+you, Grandma, you have such a kind face! And oh, what pains
+you must have taken to find something that will do for
+everybody!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> (<i>disengaging herself peevishly</i>). Yes, yes, child.
+I trust that what I have chosen will indeed do for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>everybody,&mdash;but
+I do not like to be messed about. Monkshood, you
+know what you have to do.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie.</i> Oh, I am sure he does, Grandma! See how
+benevolently he smiles. You're such a good old man, you
+will take care that all the poor people are fed, <i>won't</i> you?</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 288px;">
+<a href="images/131a.jpg"><img src="images/131.jpg" width="288" height="433" alt="Little Elfie." title="">
+</a><span class="caption">Little Elfie.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> (<i>with a sinister smile</i>). Ah! Missie, I've 'elped to
+settle a many people's 'ash in my time!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie</i> (<i>innocently</i>). What, do they all get hash? How nice!
+I like hash,&mdash;but what else do you give them?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> (<i>grimly</i>). Gruel, Missie. (<i>Aside.</i>) I must get out
+of this, or this innocent child's prattle will unman me!</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Exit with parcels.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie.</i> You seem so sad and troubled, Grandma. Let me
+sing you one of the songs with which I drew a smile from
+poor dear Pa in happier days.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> No, no, some other time. (<i>Aside.</i>) Pshaw! why
+should I dread the effect of her simple melodies?      (<i>Aloud.</i>)
+Sing, child, if you will.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie.</i> How glad I am that I brought my banjo!      <span class="p2">[<i>Sings.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="p4 top2">
+<i>Dar is a lubly yaller gal dat tickles me to deff;<br>
+She'll dance de room ob darkies down, and take away deir breff.<br>
+When she sits down to supper, ebery coloured gemple-man,<br>
+As she gets her upper lip o'er a plate o' "possom dip," cries,</i><br>
+<span class="p2"><i>"Woa, Lucindy Ann!"</i></span> <span class="p1">(Chorus, dear Granny!)</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p12 top2"><i>Chorus.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+<i>Woa, Lucindy!  Woa, Lucindy!  Woa, Lucindy Ann!<br>
+At de rate dat you are stuffin, you will nebber leave us nuffin; so woa, Miss Sindy Ann!</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="pi top2"><i>To Lady B.</i> (<i>who, after joining in chorus with deep
+emotion, has burst into tears</i>). Why, you are <i>weeping</i>, dear
+Grandmother!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> Nay, 'tis nothing, child&mdash;but have you no songs
+which are less sad?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie.</i> Oh, yes, I know plenty of plantation ditties more
+cheerful than that. (<i>Sings.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="p4 top2">
+<i>Oh, I hear a gentle whisper from de days ob long ago,<br>
+<span class="p1">When I used to be a happy darkie slave.</span><br>
+<span class="p20">[Trump-a-trump!</span><br>
+But now I'se got to labour wif the shovel an' de hoe&mdash;<br>
+<span class="p1">For ole Massa lies a sleepin' in his grave!</span><br>
+<span class="p20">[Trump-trump!</span></i>
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p12 top2"><i>Chorus.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+<i>Poor ole Massa!  Poor ole Massa!</i>  (Pianissimo.)  <i>Poor ole
+Massa, that I nebber more shall see!<br>
+He was let off by de Jury, Way down in old Missouri&mdash;But
+dey lynched him on a persimmon tree.</i>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi top2"><i>Elfie.</i> You smile at last, dear Grandma! I would sing to
+you again, but I am so very, very sleepy!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> Poor child, you have had a long journey. Rest
+awhile on this couch, and I will arrange this screen so as to
+protect your slumbers.      <span class="p2">[<i>Leads little</i></span> <span class="smcap">Elfie</span> <i>to couch</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie</i> (<i>sleepily</i>). Thanks, dear Grandma, thanks.... Now
+I shall go to sleep, and dream of you, and the dogs, and
+angels. I so often dream about angels&mdash;but that is generally
+after supper, and to-night I have had no supper.... But
+never mind.... Good night, Grannie, good night ... goo'ni'
+... goo ... goo!      <span class="p2">[<i>She sinks softly to sleep.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> And I was about to set the bloodhounds upon
+this little sunbeam! 'Tis long since these grim walls have
+echoed strains so sweet as hers. (<i>Croons.</i>) "Woa, Lucindy"
+&amp;c. "Dey tried him by a Jury, way down in ole Missouri,
+an' dey hung him to a possumdip tree!" (<i>Goes to couch, and
+gazes on the little sleeper.</i>) How peacefully she slumbers!
+What a change has come over me in one short hour!&mdash;my
+withered heart is sending up green shoots of tenderness, of
+love, and hope! Let me try henceforth to be worthy of this
+dear child's affection and respect. (<i>Turns, and sees</i> <span class="smcap">Monkshood</span>.)
+Ha, Monkshood! Then there is time yet! Those
+parcels ... quick, quick!&mdash;the parcels!&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks</i> (<i>impassively</i>). Have been left as you instructed,
+my Lady.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Chord.</i> Lady B. <i>staggers back, gasping, into chair. Little</i>
+<span class="smcap">Elfie</span> <i>awakes behind screen, and rubs her eyes</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> (<i>in a hoarse whisper</i>). You&mdash;you have left the
+parcels ... all&mdash;<i>all?</i> Tell me&mdash;how were they received?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>
+Speak low&mdash;I would not that yonder child should awake and
+hear!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Little Elfie</i> (<i>behind the screen, very wide awake indeed</i>).
+Dear, good old Grannie&mdash;she would conceal her generosity&mdash;even
+from <i>me</i>! (<i>Loudly.</i>) She little thinks that I am overhearing
+all!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> I could have sworn I heard whispering.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> Nay, you are mistaken&mdash;'twas but the wind in
+the old wainscot. (<i>Aside.</i>) He is quite capable of destroying
+that innocent child; but old and attached servant as he is,
+there are liberties I still know how to forbid. (<i>To</i> M.) Your
+story&mdash;quick!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> First, I delivered the cigars to Sir Vevey Long,
+whom I found under his verandah. He seemed surprised and
+gratified by the gift, selected a weed, and was proceeding to
+light it, whilst he showed a desire to converse familiarly with
+me. 'Astily excusing myself, I drove away, when&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> When <i>what</i>? Do not torture a wretched old
+woman!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> When I heard a loud report behind me, and, in
+the portion of a brace, two waistcoat-buttons, and half a
+slipper, which hurtled past my ears, I recognised all that was
+mortal of the late Sir Vevey. You mixed them cigars uncommon
+strong, m'Lady.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie</i> (<i>aside</i>). Can it be? But no, no. I will <i>not</i> believe
+it. I am sure that dear Granny meant no harm!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> (<i>with a grim pride she cannot wholly repress</i>). I
+have devoted some study to the subject of explosives. 'Tis
+another triumph to the Anti-tobacconists. And what of Lady
+Violet Powdray&mdash;did she apply the salve?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> Judging from the 'eartrending 'owls which proceeded
+from Carmine Cottage, the salve was producing the
+desired result. Her Ladyship, 'owever, terminated her suffer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>ings
+somewhat prematoor by jumping out of a top winder just
+as I was taking my departure&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> She should have died hereafter&mdash;but no matter ... and
+the Upas-tree?&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i>&mdash;&mdash;was presented to the Pergaments, who unpacked
+it, and loaded its branches with toys and tapers; after
+which Mr. Pergament, Mrs. P., and all the little Pergaments
+joined 'ands, and danced round it in light'arted glee. (<i>In a
+sombre tone.</i>) They little knoo as how it was their dance of
+death!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> That knowledge will come! And the beer,
+Monkshood&mdash;you saw it broached?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> Upon the village green; the mortality is still
+spreading, it being found impossible to undo the knots in
+which the victims have tied themselves. The sweetmeats
+were likewise distributed, and the floor of the hinfant-school
+now resembles one vast fly-paper.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> (<i>with a touch of remorse</i>). The children too!
+Was not my little Elfie once an infant? Ah me, ah
+me!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie</i> (<i>aside</i>). Once&mdash;but that was long, long ago. And,
+oh, <i>how</i> disappointed I am in poor dear Grandmama!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> Monkshood, you should not have done these
+things&mdash;you should have saved me from myself. You <i>must</i>
+have known how greatly all this would increase my unpopularity
+in the neighbourhood.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> (<i>sulkily</i>). And this is my reward for obeying
+orders! Take care, my Lady. It suits you now to throw
+me aside like a&mdash;(<i>casting about for an original simile</i>)&mdash;like
+a old glove, because this innocent grandchild of yours has
+touched your flinty 'art. But where will <i>you</i> be when she
+learns&mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> (<i>in agony</i>). Ah, no, Monkshood, good, faithful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
+Monkshood, she must never know that! Think, Monkshood,
+you would not tell her that the Grandmother to whom she
+looks up with such touching, childlike love, was a&mdash;<i>homicide</i>&mdash;you
+would not do that?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> Some would say even 'omicide was not too black
+a name for all you've done. <span class="p1">(Lady</span> <span class="smcap">Belledame</span> <i>shudders</i>.)
+<span class="p1">I</span> might tell Miss Elfie how you've blowed up a live Baronet,
+corrosive sublimated a gentle Lady, honly for 'aving, in a
+moment of candour, called you a hold cat, and distributed
+pison in a variety of forms about this smiling village; and, if
+that don't inspire her with distrust, I don't know the nature
+of children, that's all! I might tell her, I say, and, if I'm to
+keep my mouth shut, I shall expect it to be considered in my
+wages.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> I knew you had a good heart! I will pay you
+anything&mdash;anything, provided you shield my guilt from her
+... wait, you shall have gold, gold, Monkshood, gold!</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>Chord. Little</i> <span class="smcap">Elfie</span> <i>suddenly comes from behind screen;
+limelight on her. The other two shrink back.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie.</i> Do not give that bad old man money, Grandmother,
+for it will only be wasted.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> Speak, child!&mdash;how much do you know?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie.</i> All!      <span class="p2">[<i>Chord.</i> </span>Lady B. <i>collapses on chair</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> (<i>with an effort</i>). And now, Elfie, that you know,
+you scorn and hate your poor old Grandmother&mdash;is it not so?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie.</i> It is wrong to hate one's Grandmother, whatever
+she does. At first when I heard, I was very, very sorry. I
+<i>did</i> think it was most unkind of you. But now, oh, I <i>can't</i>
+believe that you had not some good, wise motive, in acting as
+you did!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> (<i>in conscience-stricken aside</i>). Even <i>this</i> cannot
+shatter her artless faith ... Oh, wretch, wretch!</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p>
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Covers her face.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> Motive&mdash;I believe you there, Missie. Why, she
+went and insured all their lives aforehand, <i>she</i> did.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> Monkshood, in pity hold your peace!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie</i> (<i>her face beaming</i>). I knew it&mdash;I was sure of it!
+Oh, Granny, my dear, kind old Granny, you insured their
+lives first, so that no real harm could possibly happen to them&mdash;oh,
+I am so happy!</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 339px;">
+<a href="images/137a.jpg"><img src="images/137.jpg" width="339" height="426" alt="&quot;Good-bye, Good-bye!&quot;" title="">
+</a><span class="caption">&quot;Good-bye, Good-bye!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> (<i>aside</i>). What shall I say? Merciful Powers,
+what <i>shall</i> I say to her?      <span class="p2">[<i>Disturbed sounds without.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> I don't know what you'd better <i>say</i>, but I can tell
+you what your Ladyship had better <i>do</i>&mdash;and that is, take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>
+your 'ook while you can. Even now the outraged populace
+approaches, to wreak a hawful vengeance upon your guilty
+'ed!              <span class="p2">[<i>Melodramatic music.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> (<i>distractedly</i>). A mob! I cannot face them&mdash;they
+will tear me limb from limb. At my age I could not
+survive such an indignity as that! Hide me, Monkshood&mdash;help
+me to escape!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> There is a secret underground passage, known
+only to myself, communicating with the nearest railway
+station. I will point it out, and personally conduct your
+Ladyship&mdash;for a consideration&mdash;one thousand pounds down.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>The noise increases.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie.</i> No, Granny, don't trust him! Be calm and brave.
+Await the mob here. Leave it all to me. I will explain
+everything to them&mdash;how you meant no ill,&mdash;how, at the
+very time they thought you were meditating an injury, you
+were actually spending money in insuring all their lives.
+When I tell them <i>that</i>&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> Ah, you tell 'em that, and see. It's too late now&mdash;they
+are here!</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Shouts without.</i> Lady B. <i>crouches on floor. Little</i> <span class="smcap">Elfie</span>
+<i>goes to the window, throws open the shutters, and
+stands on balcony in her fluttering white robe, and
+the limelight</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie.</i> Yes, they are here. Why, they are carrying torches!&mdash;(Lady B.
+<i>groans</i>)&mdash;and banners, too! I think they have a
+band.... Who is that tall, stout gentleman, in the white hat,
+on horseback, and the lady in a pony-trap, with, oh, such a
+beautiful complexion! There is an inscription on one of the
+flags&mdash;I can read it quite plainly. "<i>Thanks to the generous
+Donor!</i>" (That must be <i>you</i>, Grandmother!) And there
+are children who dance, and scatter flowers. They are asking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+for a speech. (<i>Speaking off.</i>) "If you please, Ladies and Gentlemen,
+my Grandmama is not at all well, but she wishes
+me to say she wishes you a Merry Christmas, and is very glad
+you all like your presents so much. Good-bye, <i>good</i>-bye!"
+(<i>Returning down Stage.</i>) Now they have gone away, Granny....
+They did look so grateful!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> (<i>bewildered</i>). What is this! Sir Vevey, Lady
+Violet,&mdash;alive, well? This deputation of gratitude? Am I
+mad, dreaming&mdash;or what does it all mean?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Monks.</i> (<i>doggedly</i>). It means that the sight of this 'ere
+angel child recalled me to a sense of what I might be exposin'
+myself to by carrying out your Ladyship's commands; and so
+I took the liberty of substitootin gifts more calculated to
+inspire gratitude in their recipients&mdash;that's what it means.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> Wretch!&mdash;then you have disobeyed me? You
+leave this day month!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Elfie</i> (<i>pleading</i>). Nay, Grandmother, bear with him, for
+has not his disobedience spared you from acts that you might
+some day have regretted?... There, Mr. Butler, Granny
+forgives you&mdash;see, she holds out her hand, and here's mine;
+and now&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lady B.</i> (<i>smiling tenderly</i>). Now you shall sing us "<i>Woa,
+Lucinda!</i>"</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Little</i> <span class="smcap">Elfie</span> <i>fetches her banjo, and sings, "Woa,
+Lucinda!" her Grandmother and the aged Steward
+joining in the dance and chorus, and embracing the
+child, to form picture as Curtain falls</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+
+
+<hr class="c25">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="VIII_JACK_PARKER" id="VIII_JACK_PARKER"></a><span class="smcap">viii.</span>&mdash;JACK PARKER;</h2>
+
+<h5>OR, THE BULL WHO KNEW HIS BUSINESS.</h5>
+
+
+<p class="dramah"><span class="smcap">Characters.</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table class="autotable">
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="left"><i>Jack Parker</i> ("<i>was a cruel boy, For mischief was his sole employ.</i>"&mdash;<i>Vide</i>)</td><td class="left">Miss <span class="smcap">Jane Taylor</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3" class="left"><i>Miss Lydia Banks</i> ("<i>though very young, Will never do what's rude or wrong.</i>"&mdash;<i>Ditto.</i>)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="verttop left"><i>Farmer Banks</i><br><i>Farmer Banks's Bull</i></td>
+<td class="left"><span class="large">}</span></td><td class="left">By the Brothers <span class="smcap">Griffiths</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left" colspan="3"><i>Chorus of Farm Hands.</i></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="top2 pim"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>&mdash;<i>A Farmyard.</i> <span class="smcap">r.</span> <i>a stall from which the head of the
+Bull is visible above the half-door. Enter</i> Farmer <span class="smcap">Banks</span>
+<i>with a cudgel</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Farmer B.</i> (<i>moodily</i>). <span class="p1">When roots</span> are quiet, and cereals are dull,<br>
+I vent my irritation on the Bull.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>We have</i> Miss <span class="smcap">Taylor's</span> <i>own authority for this rhyme</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Come hup, you beast!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>Opens stall and flourishes cudgel&mdash;the Bull comes forward
+with an air of deliberate defiance.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p12">
+Oh, turning narsty, is he?
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>Apologetically to Bull.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Another time will do! I see you're busy!<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>The Bull, after some consideration, decides to accept this
+retractation, and retreats with dignity to his stall,
+the door of which he carefully fastens after him.
+Exit</i> Farmer <span class="smcap">Banks</span>, <span class="smcap">l.</span>, <i>as</i> <span class="smcap">Lydia Banks</span> <i>enters</i> <span class="smcap">r.</span>
+<i>accompanied by Chorus. The Bull exhibits the liveliest
+interest in her proceedings, as he looks on, with
+his forelegs folded easily upon the top of the door.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="p6 top2"><i>Song</i>&mdash;<span class="smcap">Lydia Banks</span> (<i>in Polka time</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+I'm the child by Miss Jane Taylor sung;<br>
+Unnaturally good for one so young&mdash;<br>
+A pattern for the people that I go among,<br>
+With my moral little tags on the tip of my tongue.<br>
+And I often feel afraid that I shan't live long,<br>
+For I never do a thing that's rude or wrong!</p>
+
+<p class="p6 pim">
+<i>Chorus</i> (<i>to which the Bull beats time</i>).<br>
+As a general rule, one <i>doesn't</i> live long,<br>
+If you never do a thing that's rude or wrong!
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="p6 top2"><i>Second Verse.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+My words are all with wisdom fraught,<br>
+To make polite replies I've sought;<br>
+And learned by independent thought,<br>
+That a pinafore, inked, is good for nought.<br>
+So wonderfully well have I been taught,<br>
+That I turn my toes as children ought!</p>
+
+<p class="p6 pim">
+<i>Chorus</i> (<i>to which the Bull dances</i>).<br>
+This moral lesson she's been taught&mdash;<br>
+She turns her toes as children ought!<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Lydia</i> (<i>sweetly</i>). <span class="p1">Yes, I'm the </span>Farmer's daughter&mdash;Lydia Banks;<br>
+No person ever caught me playing pranks!<br>
+I'm loved by all the live-stock on the farm,
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>Ironical applause from the Bull.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Pigeons I've plucked will perch upon my arm,<br>
+And pigs at my approach sit up and beg.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>Business by Bull.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+For me the partial peacock saves his egg,<br>
+No sheep e'er snaps if <i>I</i> attempt to touch her,<br>
+Lambs <i>like</i> it when I lead them to the butcher!<br>
+Each morn I milk my rams beneath the shed,<br>
+While rabbits flutter twittering round my head,<br>
+And, as befits a dairy-farmer's daughter,<br>
+What milk I get I supplement with water,
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>A huge Shadow is thrown on the road outside</i>; <span class="smcap">Lydia</span> <i>starts</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Whose shadow is it makes the highway darker?<br>
+That bullet head! those ears! it is&mdash;&mdash;Jack Parker!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>Chord. The Chorus flee in dismay, as</i> <span class="smcap">Jack</span> <i>enters with a reckless swagger</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="p6 top2"><i>Song</i>&mdash;<span class="smcap">Jack Parker</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="p4">
+I'm loafing about, and I very much doubt<br>
+If my excellent Ma is aware that I'm out;<br>
+My time I employ in attempts to annoy,<br>
+And I'm not what you'd call an agreeable boy!<br>
+<span class="p2">I shoe the cats with walnut-shells;</span><br>
+<span class="p3">Tin cans to curs I tie;</span><br>
+<span class="p2">Ring furious knells at front-door bells&mdash;</span><br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span><span class="p3">Then round the corner fly!</span><br>
+'Neath donkeys' tails I fasten furze,<br>
+<span class="p1">Or timid horsemen scare;</span><br>
+If chance occurs, I stock with burrs<br>
+<span class="p1">My little Sister's hair!</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>The Bull shakes his head reprovingly.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Such tricks give me joy without any alloy,<br>
+But they do not denote an agreeable boy!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">Jack Parker</span> <i>concludes, the Bull ducks cautiously
+below the half-door, while</i> <span class="smcap">Lydia</span> <i>conceals herself
+behind the pump</i>, <span class="smcap">l.c.</span></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Jack</i> (<i>wandering about stage discontentedly</i>). <span class="p1">I thoug</span>ht at least there'd be <i>some</i> beasts to badger here!<br>
+Call this a farm&mdash;there ain't a blooming spadger here!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>Approaches stall&mdash;Bull raises head suddenly.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+A bull! This is a lark I've long awaited!<br>
+He's in a stable, so he should be baited.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>The Bull shows symptoms of acute depression at this jeu
+de mots</i>; <span class="smcap">Lydia</span> <i>comes forward indignantly</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Lydia.</i><span class="p1"> I <i>can't</i> </span>stand by and see that poor bull suffer!<br>
+Excitement's sure to make his beef taste tougher!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>The Bull emphatically corroborates this statement.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Be warned by Miss Jane Taylor; fractured skulls<br>
+Invariably come from teasing bulls!<br>
+So let that door alone, nor lift the latchet;<br>
+For if the bull gets out&mdash;why, then you'll catch it.</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Jack.</i> <span class="p1">A fractured skull?</span> Yah, don't believe a word of it!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Raises latchet: chord; Bull comes slowly out, and
+crouches ominously</i>; <span class="smcap">Jack</span> <i>retreats, and takes refuge
+on top of pump: the Bull, after scratching his back
+with his off foreleg, makes a sudden rush at</i> <span class="smcap">Lydia</span>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Lydia</i> (<i>as she evades it</i>). <span class="p1">Here, help!&mdash;it's</span> chasing me!&mdash;it's too absurd of it!<br>
+Go away, Bull&mdash;with <i>me</i> you have no quarrel!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>The Bull intimates that he is acting from a deep sense of duty.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Lydia</i> (<i>impatiently</i>). <span class="p1">You stupid thing</span>, you're <i>ruining</i> the moral!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>The Bull persists obstinately in his pursuit.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Jack</i> (<i>from top of pump</i>). <span class="p1">Well dodged, Miss </span>Banks! although the Bull I'll back!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>Enter</i> Farm-hands.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Lydia.</i> <span class="p1">Come quick&mdash;</span>this Bull's mistaking me for Jack!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Jack.</i> <span class="p1">He knows his business</span> best, I shouldn't wonder.</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Farm-hands</i> (<i>philosophically</i>). <span class="p1">He ain't the sort</span> of Bull to make a blunder.      <span class="p2">[<i>They look on.</i></span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Lydia</i> (<i>panting.</i>) <span class="p1">Such violent exercise</span> will soon exhaust me!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>The Bull comes behind her.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Oh, Bull, it <i>is</i> unkind of you ... you've <i>tossed</i> me!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Falls on ground, while the Bull stands over her, in
+readiness to give the coup de grace</i>; <span class="smcap">Lydia</span> <i>calls for
+help</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>A Farm-hand</i> (<i>encouragingly</i>).<span class="p1"> Nay, Miss, he seems</span> moor sensible nor surly&mdash;<br>
+He knows as how good children perish early!<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>The Bull nods in acknowledgment that he is at last
+understood, and slaps his chest with his forelegs.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Lydia.</i> <span class="p1">Bull, I'll turn</span> naughty, if you'll but be lenient!<br>
+Goodness, I see, is sometimes inconvenient.<br>
+I promise you henceforth I'll <i>try</i>, at any rate,<br>
+To act like children who are unregenerate!
+</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 324px;">
+<a href="images/145a.jpg"><img src="images/145.jpg" width="324" height="393" alt="On top of the Pump." title="">
+</a><span class="caption">On top of the Pump.</span>
+</div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>The Bull, after turning this over, decides to accept a compromise.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Jack.</i> <span class="p1">And, Lydia, when</span> you ready for a lark are,<br>
+Just give a chyhike to your friend&mdash;Jack Parker!
+</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p>
+<blockquote><p class="p10 pim">[<i>They shake hands warmly.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="p10 top2"><span class="smcap">Finale.</span></p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Lydia.</i><span class="p1"> I thought</span> to slowly fade away so calm and beautiful.<br>
+<span class="p1">(Though I didn't mean to go just yet);</span><br>
+But you get no chance for pathos when you're chivied by a bull!<br>
+<span class="p1">(So I thought I wouldn't go just yet.)</span><br>
+For I did feel so upset, when I found that all you get<br>
+By the exercise of virtue, is that bulls will come and hurt you!<br>
+<span class="p1">That I thought I wouldn't go just yet!</span></p>
+<p class="p6 pim">
+<i>Chorus.</i><br> We hear, with some regret,<br>
+That she doesn't mean to go just yet.<br>
+But a Bull with horns that hurt you<br>
+Is a poor return for virtue,<br>
+So she's wiser not to go just yet!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>The Bull rises on his hindlegs, and gives a forehoof each
+to</i> <span class="smcap">Lydia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Jack</span>, <i>who dance wildly round and
+round as the Curtain falls</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>[N.B.&mdash;Music-hall Managers are warned that the morality
+of this particular Drama may possibly be called in question
+by some members of the L. C. C.]</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="c25"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="IX_UNDER_THE_HARROW" id="IX_UNDER_THE_HARROW"></a><span class="smcap">ix.</span>&mdash;UNDER THE HARROW.</h2>
+
+<h5><i>A CONVENTIONAL COMEDY-MELODRAMA, IN TWO ACTS.</i></h5>
+
+
+<p class="dramah">
+<span class="smcap">Characters.</span></p>
+<div class="p8">
+<p>
+<i>Sir Poshbury Puddock (a haughty and high-minded Baronet).</i></p>
+<p>
+<i>Verbena Puddock (his Daughter).</i></p>
+<p>
+<i>Lord Bleshugh (her Lover).</i></p>
+<p>
+<i>Spiker (a needy and unscrupulous Adventurer).</i></p>
+<p>
+<i>Blethers (an ancient and attached Domestic).</i>
+</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="dramah">ACT I.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>The Morning Room at Natterjack Hall, Toadley-le-Hole;
+large window open at back, with heavy practicable
+sash.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="top2 center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Blethers.</span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Blethers.</i> Sir Poshbury's birthday to-day&mdash;his birthday!&mdash;and
+the gentry giving of him presents. Oh, Lor! if they only
+knew what <i>I</i> could tell 'em!... Ah, and <i>must</i> tell, too,
+before long&mdash;but not yet&mdash;not yet!       <span class="p2">[<i>Exit.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="top2 center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Lord Bleshugh</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Verbena.</span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Verb.</i> Yes, Papa is forty to-day; (<i>innocently</i>) fancy living
+to <i>that</i> age! The tenants have presented him with a handsome
+jar of mixed pickles, with an appropriate inscription.
+Papa is loved and respected by every one. And I&mdash;well, I
+have made him a little housewife, containing needles and
+thread ... See!       <span class="p2">[<i>Shows it.</i></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord Blesh.</i> (<i>tenderly</i>). I say, I&mdash;I wish you would make
+<i>me</i> a little housewife!</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Comedy love-dialogue omitted owing to want of space.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Verb.</i> Oh, do look!&mdash;there's Papa crossing the lawn with,
+oh, such a horrid man following him!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord B.</i> Regular bounder. Shocking bad hat!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Verb.</i> Not so bad as his boots, and <i>they</i> are not so bad
+as his face! Why doesn't Papa order him to go away? Oh,
+he is actually inviting him in!</p>
+
+<p class="center top2"><i>Enter</i> Sir <span class="smcap">Poshbury</span>, <i>gloomy and constrained, with</i>
+<span class="smcap">Spiker</span>, <i>who is jaunty, and somewhat over familiar.</i></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spiker</i> (<i>sitting on the piano, and dusting his boots with his
+handkerchief</i>). Cosy little shanty you've got here, Puddock&mdash;very
+tasty!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sir P.</i> (<i>with a gulp</i>). I am&mdash;ha&mdash;delighted that you
+approve of it! Ah, Verbena!      <span class="p2">[<i>Kisses her on forehead.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spiker.</i> Your daughter, eh? Pooty gal. Introduce me.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Sir</i> <span class="smcap">Posh.</span> <i>introduces him&mdash;with an effort.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Verbena</i> (<i>coldly</i>). How do you do? Papa, did you know
+that the sashline of this window was broken? If it is not
+mended, it will fall on somebody's head, and perhaps kill
+him!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sir P.</i> (<i>absently</i>). Yes&mdash;yes, it shall be attended to; but
+leave us, my child, go. Bleshugh, this&mdash;er&mdash;gentleman and
+I have business of importance to discuss.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spiker.</i> Don't let us drive you away, Miss; your Pa and
+me are only talking over old times, that's all&mdash;eh, Posh?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sir P.</i> (<i>in a tortured aside</i>). Have a care, Sir, don't drive
+me too far! (<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Verb.</span>) Leave us, I say. (Lord B. <i>and</i>
+<span class="smcap">Verb.</span> <i>go out, raising their eyebrows.</i>) Now, Sir, what is this
+secret you profess to have discovered?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spiker.</i> Oh, a mere nothing. (<i>Takes out a cigar.</i>) Got a
+light about you? Thanks. Perhaps you don't recollect
+twenty-seven years ago this very day, travelling from Edgware
+Road to Baker Street, by the Underground Railway?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sir P.</i> Perfectly; it was my thirteenth birthday, and I
+celebrated the event by a visit to Madame Tussaud's.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 264px;">
+<a href="images/149a.jpg"><img src="images/149.jpg" width="264" height="390" alt="Spiker Introduced." title="">
+</a><span class="caption">Spiker Introduced.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spiker.</i> Exactly; it was your thirteenth birthday, and you
+travelled second-class with a half-ticket&mdash;(<i>meaningly</i>)&mdash;on
+your thirteenth birthday.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sir P.</i> (<i>terribly agitated</i>). Fiend that you are, how came
+you to learn this?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spiker.</i> Very simple. I was at that time in the temporary
+position of ticket-collector at Baker Street. In the exuber<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>ance
+of boyhood, you cheeked me. I swore to be even with
+you some day.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sir P.</i> Even if&mdash;if your accusation were well-founded, how
+are you going to prove it?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sp.</i> Oh, that's easy! I preserved the half-ticket, on the
+chance that I should require it as evidence hereafter.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sir P.</i> (<i>aside</i>). And so the one error of an otherwise
+blameless boyhood has found me out&mdash;at last! (<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Spiker</span>.) I
+fear you not; my crime&mdash;if crime indeed it was&mdash;is surely condoned
+by twenty-seven long years of unimpeachable integrity!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sp.</i> Bye-laws are Bye-laws, old Buck! there's no Statute
+of Limitations in criminal offences that ever <i>I</i> heard of!
+Nothing can alter the fact that you, being turned thirteen,
+obtained a half-ticket by a false representation that you were
+under age. A line from me, even now, denouncing you to the
+Traffic Superintendent, and I'm very much afraid&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sir P.</i> (<i>writhing</i>). Spiker, my&mdash;my dear friend, you won't
+do that&mdash;you won't expose me? Think of my age, my position,
+my daughter!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sp.</i> Ah, now you've touched the right chord! I <i>was</i> thinking
+of your daughter&mdash;a nice lady-like gal&mdash;I don't mind telling
+you she fetched me, Sir, at the first glance. Give me her
+hand, and I burn the compromising half-ticket before your
+eyes on our return from church after the wedding. Come,
+that's a fair offer!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sir P.</i> (<i>indignantly</i>). My child, the ripening apple of my
+failing eye, to be sacrificed to a blackmailing blackguard like
+you! Never while I live!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sp.</i> Just as you please; and, if you will kindly oblige me
+with writing materials, I will just drop a line to the Traffic
+Superintendent&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sir P.</i> (<i>hoarsely</i>). No, no; not <i>that</i>.... Wait, listen; I&mdash;I
+will speak to my daughter. I promise nothing; but if her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+heart is still her own to give, she may, (mind, I do not say
+she <i>will</i>,) be induced to link her lot to yours, though I
+shall not attempt to influence her in any way&mdash;in <i>any</i> way.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sp.</i> Well, you know your own business best, old Cockalorum.
+Here comes the young lady, so I'll leave you to
+manage this delicate affair alone. Ta-ta. I shan't be far off.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Swaggers insolently out as</i> <span class="smcap">Verb.</span> <i>enters.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sir P.</i> My child, I have just received an offer for your
+hand. I know not if you will consent?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Verb.</i> I can guess who has made that offer, and why. I
+consent with all my heart, dear Papa.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sir P.</i> Can I trust my ears! You consent? Noble girl!</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>He embraces her.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Verb.</i> I was quite sure dear Bleshugh meant to speak, and
+I <i>do</i> love him very much.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sir P.</i> (<i>starting</i>). It is not Lord Bleshugh, my child, but
+Mr. Samuel Spiker, the gentleman (for he is at heart a gentleman)
+whom I introduced to you just now.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Verb.</i> I have seen so little of him, Papa, I cannot love him&mdash;you
+must really excuse me!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sir P.</i> Ah, but you will, my darling, you <i>will</i>&mdash;I know
+your unselfish nature&mdash;you will, to save your poor old dad
+from a terrible disgrace ... yes, <i>disgrace</i>, listen! Twenty-seven
+years ago&mdash;(<i>he tells her all</i>). Verbena, at this very
+moment, there is a subscription on foot in the county to
+present me with my photograph, done by an itinerant photographer
+of the highest eminence, and framed and glazed ready
+for hanging. Is that photograph never to know the nail
+which even now awaits it? Can you not surrender a passing
+girlish fancy, to spare your fond old father's fame? Mr.
+Spiker is peculiar, perhaps, in many ways&mdash;not quite of our
+<i>monde</i>&mdash;but he loves you sincerely, my child, and that is in
+itself a recommendation. Ah, I see&mdash;my prayers are vain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>
+... be happy, then. As for me, let the police come&mdash;I am
+ready!       <span class="p2">[<i>Weeps.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Verb.</i> Not so, Papa; I will marry this Mr. Spiker, since it
+is your wish.       <span class="p2">[Sir</span> <span class="smcap">Posh.</span> <i>dries his eyes.</i></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sir P.</i> Here, Spiker, my dear fellow, it is all right. Come
+in. She accepts you.</p>
+
+<p class="center top2"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Spiker.</span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sp.</i> Thought she would. Sensible little gal! Well, Miss,
+you shan't regret it. Bless you, we'll be as chummy together
+as a couple of little dicky-birds.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Verb.</i> Mr. Spiker, let us understand one another. I will
+do my best to be a good wife to you&mdash;but chumminess is not
+mine to give, nor can I promise ever to be your dicky-bird.</p>
+
+<p class="center top2"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Lord Bleshugh.</span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord B.</i> Sir Poshbury, may I have five minutes with you?
+Verbena, you need not go. (<i>Looking at</i> <span class="smcap">Spiker.</span>) Perhaps this
+person will kindly relieve us of his presence.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sp.</i> Sorry to disoblige, old fellow, but I'm on duty where
+Miss Verbena is now, you see, as she's just promised to be
+my wife.</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord B.</i> <i>Your</i> wife!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Verb.</i> (<i>faintly</i>). Yes, Lord Bleshugh, his <i>wife</i>!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sir P.</i> Yes, my poor boy, <i>his</i> wife!</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<span class="smcap">Verbena</span> <i>totters, and falls heavily in a dead faint,</i> <span class="smcap">r.c.</span>, <i>upsetting
+a flower-stand;</i> <span class="smcap">Lord Bleshugh</span> <i>staggers, and
+swoons on sofa, <span class="smcap">c.</span>, overturning a table of knicknacks;</i>
+<span class="smcap">Sir Poshbury</span> <i>sinks into chair,</i> <span class="smcap">l.c.</span>, <i>and covers his face
+with his hands.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Sp.</i> (<i>looking down on them triumphantly</i>). Under the
+Harrow, by Gad! Under the Harrow!</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Curtain, and end of Act I.</i></p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="dramah">ACT II.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="top2 pim"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>Same as in Act I.; viz., the Morning-Room at Natterjack
+Hall. Evening of same day. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Blethers</span>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Blethers.</i> Another of Sir Poshbury's birthdays almost gone&mdash;and
+my secret still untold! (<i>Dodders.</i>) I can't keep it up
+much longer.... Ha, here comes his Lordship&mdash;he does look
+mortal bad, that he do! Miss Verbena ain't treated him too
+well, from all I can hear, poor young feller!</p>
+
+<p class="center top2"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Lord Bleshugh.</span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord Bleshugh.</i> Blethers, by the memory of the innumerable
+half-crowns that have passed between us, be my friend
+now&mdash;I have no others left. Persuade your young Mistress
+to come hither&mdash;you need not tell her <i>I</i> am here, you understand.
+Be discreet, and this florin shall be yours!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Blethers.</i> Leave it to me, my lord. I'd tell a lie for less
+than that, any day, old as I am!         <span class="p2">[<i>Exit.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord Bl.</i> I cannot rest till I have heard from her own lips
+that the past few hours have been nothing but a horrible
+dream.... She is coming! Now for the truth!</p>
+
+<p class="center top2"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Verbena.</span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Verbena.</i> Papa, did you want me? (<i>Recognises Lord B.&mdash;controls
+herself to a cold formality.</i>) My lord, to what do I
+owe this&mdash;this unexpected intrusion?      <span class="p2">[<i>Pants violently.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord Bl.</i> Verbena, tell me, you cannot really prefer that
+seedy snob in the burst boots to me?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Verb.</i> (<i>aside</i>). How can I tell him the truth without betraying
+dear Papa? No, I must lie, though it kills me. (<i>To Lord
+B.</i>) Lord Bleshugh, I have been trifling with you. I&mdash;I
+never loved you.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord B.</i> I see, and all the while your heart was given to a
+howling cad?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Verb.</i> And if it was, who can account for the vagaries of
+a girlish fancy! We women are capricious beings, you know.
+(<i>With hysterical gaiety.</i>) But you are unjust to Mr. Spiker&mdash;he
+has not <i>yet</i> howled in <i>my</i> presence&mdash;(<i>aside</i>)&mdash;though I
+very nearly did in <i>his</i>!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord B.</i> And you really love him?</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Verb.</i> I&mdash;I love him. (<i>Aside.</i>) My heart will break!</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Lord B.</i> Then I have no more to say. Farewell, Verbena!
+Be as happy as the knowledge that you have wrecked one of
+the brightest careers, and soured one of the sweetest natures
+in the county, will permit. (<i>Goes up stage, and returns.</i>) A
+few days since you presented me with a cloth pen-wiper, in
+the shape of a dog of unknown breed. If you will kindly
+wait here for half-an-hour, I shall have much pleasure in
+returning a memento which I have no longer the right to
+retain, and there are several little things I gave you which I
+can take back with me at the same time, if you will have them
+put up in readiness.        <span class="p2">[<i>Exit.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Verbena.</i> Oh, he is cruel, cruel! but I shall keep the little
+bone yard-measure, and the diamond pig&mdash;they are all I have
+to remind me of him!</p>
+
+<p class="center top2"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Spiker</span>, <i>slightly intoxicated.</i></p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Spiker.</i> (<i>throwing himself on sofa without seeing Verb.</i>) I
+don' know how it is, but I feel precioush shleepy, somehow.
+P'raps I <i>did</i> partake lil' too freely of Sir Poshbury's gen'rous
+Burgundy. Wunner why they call it "gen'rous"&mdash;it didn't
+give <i>me</i> anything&mdash;'cept a bloomin' headache! However, I
+punished it, and old Poshbury had to look on and let me.
+He-he! (<i>Examining his hand.</i>) Who'd think, to look at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
+thish thumb, that there was a real live Baronet squirmin'
+under it. But there ish!          <span class="p2">[<i>Snores.</i></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 258px;">
+<a href="images/155a.jpg"><img src="images/155.jpg" width="258" height="321" alt="Spiker spiked." title="">
+</a><span class="caption">Spiker spiked.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="pi">
+<p><i>Verb.</i> (<i>bitterly</i>). And <i>that</i> thing is my affianced husband
+Ah, no I cannot go through with it, he is <i>too</i> repulsive! If
+I could but find a way to free myself without compromising
+poor Papa. The sofa-cushion! <i>Dare</i> I? It would be quite
+painless.... Surely the removal of such an odious wretch
+cannot be <i>Murder</i>.... I will! (<i>Slow music. She gets a
+cushion, and presses it tightly over</i> <span class="smcap">Spiker's</span> <i>head.</i>) Oh, I
+<i>wish</i> he wouldn't gurgle like that, and how he does kick!
+He cannot even die like a gentleman! (<span class="smcap">Spiker's</span> <i>kicks become
+more and more feeble and eventually cease.</i>) How still he
+lies! I almost wish ... Mr. Spiker, Mr. Spi-ker!... no
+answer&mdash;oh, I really <i>have</i> suffocated him! (<i>Enter</i> Sir <span class="smcap">Posh.</span>)
+You, Papa?</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Posh.</i> What, Verbena, sitting with, hem&mdash;Samuel in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>
+the gloaming? (<i>Sings with forced hilarity.</i>) "In the gloaming,
+oh, my darling!" that's as it should be&mdash;quite as it
+should be!</p>
+
+<p><i>Verb.</i> (<i>in dull strained accents</i>). Don't sing, Papa, I cannot
+bear it&mdash;just yet. I have just suffocated Mr. Spiker with
+a sofa-cushion. See!      <span class="p2">[<i>Shows the body.</i></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Posh.</i> Then I am safe&mdash;he will tell no tales now! But,
+my child, are you aware of the very serious nature of your act?
+An act of which, as a Justice of the Peace, I am bound to
+take some official cognizance!</p>
+
+<p><i>Verb.</i> Do not scold me, Papa. Was it not done for <i>your</i> sake?</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir P.</i> I cannot accept such an excuse as that. I fear your
+motives were less disinterested than you would have me believe.
+And now, Verbena, what will <i>you</i> do? As your father,
+I would gladly screen you&mdash;but, as a Magistrate, I cannot
+promise to be more than passive.</p>
+
+<p><i>Verb.</i> Listen, Papa. I have thought of a plan&mdash;why
+should I not wheel this sofa to the head of the front-door
+steps, and tip it over? They will only think he fell down
+when intoxicated&mdash;for he <i>had</i> taken far too much wine, Papa!</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir P.</i> Always the same quick-witted little fairy! Go,
+my child, but be careful that none of the servants see you.
+(<span class="smcap">Verb.</span> <i>wheels the sofa and</i> <span class="smcap">Spiker's</span> <i>body out,</i> <span class="smcap">l.u.e.</span>) My
+poor impulsive darling, I do hope she will not be seen&mdash;servants
+<i>do</i> make such mischief! But there's an end of
+Spiker, at any rate. I should <i>not</i> have liked him for a son-in-law,
+and with him, goes the only person who knows my
+unhappy secret!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center top2"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Blethers.</span></p>
+
+<div class="pi"><p><i>Blethers.</i> Sir Poshbury, I have a secret to reveal which I
+can preserve no longer&mdash;it concerns something that happened
+many years ago&mdash;it is connected with your <i>birthday</i>,
+Sir Poshbury.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Sir P.</i> (<i>quailing</i>). What, <i>another</i>! I must stop <i>his</i> tongue
+at all hazards. Ah, the rotten sash-line! (<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Blethers.</span>) I
+will hear you, but first close yonder window, the night-air
+is growing chill.</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<span class="smcap">Blethers</span> <i>goes to window at back. Slow music. As he
+approaches it,</i> Lord <span class="smcap">Bleshugh</span> <i>enters</i> (<span class="smcap">r 2 e</span>), <i>and, with a
+smothered cry of horror, drags him back by the coat-tails&mdash;just
+before the window falls with a tremendous crash.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="pi">
+<p><i>Sir P.</i> Bleshugh! What have you done?</p>
+
+<p><i>Lord Blesh.</i> (<i>sternly</i>). Saved <i>him</i> from an untimely end&mdash;and
+<i>you</i> from&mdash;crime!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center top2"><i>Collapse of</i> Sir P. <i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Verbena</span>, <i>terrified.</i></p>
+
+<div class="pi"><p><i>Verb.</i> Papa, Papa, hide me! The night-air and the cold
+stone steps have restored Mr. Spiker to life and consciousness!
+He is coming to denounce me&mdash;you&mdash;both of us! He
+is awfully annoyed!</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir P.</i> (<i>recklessly</i>). It is useless to appeal to me, child.
+I have enough to do to look after myself&mdash;now.</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Spiker</span>, <i>indignant.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="pi">
+<p><i>Spiker.</i> Pretty treatment for a gentleman, this! Look
+here, Poshbury, this young lady has choked me with a
+cushion, and then pitched me down the front steps&mdash;I might
+have broken my neck.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir P.</i> It was an oversight which I lament, but for which
+I must decline to be answerable. You must settle your
+differences with her.</p>
+
+<p><i>Spiker.</i> And you too, old horse! <i>You</i> had a hand in this,
+I know, and I'll pay you out for it now. My life ain't safe if I
+marry a girl like that, so I've made up my mind to split
+and be done with it!</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir P.</i> (<i>contemptuously</i>). If <i>you</i> don't, Blethers <i>will</i>. So
+do your worst, you hound!</p>
+
+<p><i>Spiker.</i> Very well then; I will. (<i>To the rest.</i>) I denounce<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>
+this man for travelling with a half-ticket from Edgware Road
+to Baker Street on his thirteenth birthday, the 31st of March
+twenty-seven years ago this very day!      <span class="p2">[<i>Sensation.</i></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Blethers.</i> Hear me! It was <i>not</i> his thirteenth birthday;
+Sir Poshbury's birthday falls on the 1st of April&mdash;<i>to-morrow</i>!
+I was sent to register the birth, and, by a
+blunder, which I have repented bitterly ever since, unfortunately
+gave the wrong date. Till this moment I have never
+had the manliness or sincerity to confess my error, for fear
+of losing my situation.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir P.</i> (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Spiker</span>). Do you hear, you paltry knave? I was
+<i>not</i> thirteen. Consequently, I was under age, and the Bye-laws
+are still unbroken. Your hold over me is gone&mdash;gone
+for ever!</p>
+
+<p><i>Spiker.</i> H'm&mdash;Spiker spiked this time!</p>
+</div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Retires up disconcerted.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="pi">
+<p><i>Lord Bl.</i> And you did not really love him, after all, Verbena?</p>
+
+<p><i>Verb.</i> (<i>with arch pride</i>). Have I not proved my indifference?</p>
+
+<p><i>Lord Bl.</i> But I forget&mdash;you admitted that you were but
+trifling with my affection&mdash;take back your pin-cushion!</p>
+
+<p><i>Verb.</i> Keep it. All that I did was done to spare my father!</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Posh.</i> Who, as a matter of fact, was innocent&mdash;but I
+forgive you, child, for your unworthy suspicions. Bleshugh,
+my boy, you have saved me from unnecessarily depriving
+myself of the services of an old retainer. Blethers, I condone a
+dissimulation for which you have done much to atone. Spiker,
+you vile and miserable rascal, be off, and be thankful that I have
+sufficient magnanimity to refrain from giving you in charge.
+(<span class="smcap">Spiker</span> <i>sneaks off crushed.</i>) And now, my children, and my
+faithful old servant, congratulate me that I am no longer&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Verbena and Lord Bleshugh</i> (<i>together</i>). Under the Harrow!</p>
+</div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="right pim">[<i>Affecting Family Tableau and quick Curtain.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<hr class="c25"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="X_TOMMY_AND_HIS_SISTER_JANE" id="X_TOMMY_AND_HIS_SISTER_JANE"></a><span class="smcap">x.</span>&mdash;TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE</h2>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 276px;">
+<a href="images/159a.jpg"><img src="images/159.jpg" width="276" height="381" alt="Tommy and Jane." title="">
+</a><span class="caption">Tommy and Jane.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> more we draw upon
+our favourite source of inspiration&mdash;the
+poems of
+the Misses Taylor. The
+dramatist is serenely confident
+that the new London
+County Council Censor of
+Plays, whenever that
+much-desired official is
+appointed, will highly approve
+of this little piece
+on account of the multiplicity
+of its morals. It
+is intended to teach,
+amongst other useful lessons,
+that&mdash;as the poem
+on which it is founded
+puts it&mdash;"Fruit in lanes
+is seldom good"; also,
+that it is not always prudent to take a hint: again, that
+constructive murder is distinctly reprehensible, and should
+never be indulged in by persons who cannot control their
+countenances afterwards. Lastly, that suicide may often be
+averted by the exercise of a little <i>savoir vivre</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h4 class="wrap">TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE.</h4>
+
+
+<p class="dramah">
+<span class="smcap">Characters.</span></p>
+<div class="p8"><p>
+<i>Tommy and his Sister Jane (Taylorian Twins, and awful examples).</i></p>
+<p>
+<i>Their Wicked Uncle (plagiarised from a forgotten Nursery Story, and slightly altered).</i></p>
+<p>
+<i>Old Farmer Copeer (skilled in the use of horse and cattle medicines).</i>
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="top2 pim"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>A shady lane; on the right, a gate, leading to the
+farm; left, some bushes, covered with practicable scarlet
+berries.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="center top2"><i>Enter the</i> Wicked Uncle, <i>stealthily</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The W. U.</i> <span class="p1">No peace of</span> mind I e'er shall know again<br>
+Till I have cooked the geese of Tom and Jane!<br>
+But&mdash;though a naughty&mdash;I'm a nervous nunky,<br>
+For downright felonies I'm far too funky!<br>
+I'd hire assassins&mdash;but of late the villains<br>
+Have raised their usual fee to fifteen shillin's!<br>
+Nor, to reduce their rates, will they engage<br>
+(<i>Sympathetically</i>) For two poor orphans who are under age!<br>
+So (as I'd give no more than half a guinea)<br>
+I must myself get rid of Tom and Jenny.<br>
+Yet, like an old soft-hearted fool, I falter,<br>
+And can't make up my mind to risk a halter.<br>
+(<i>Looking off.</i>) Ha, in the distance, Jane and little Tom I see!<br>
+These berries&mdash;(<i>meditatively</i>)&mdash;why, it only needs diplomacy.<br>
+Ho-ho, a most ingenious experiment!
+</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>Indulges in silent and sinister mirth, as</i> Jane <i>and</i> Tom
+<i>trip in, and regard him with innocent wonder.</i></p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Jane.</i> <span class="p1">Uncle,</span> what <i>is</i> the joke? Why all this merriment?</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The W. U.</i> (<i>in guilty confusion</i>). <span class="p1">Not merriment,</span> my loves&mdash;a trifling spasm&mdash;<br>
+Don't be alarmed&mdash;your Uncle often has 'em!<br>
+I'm feeling better than I did at first&mdash;<br>
+<i>You're</i> looking flushed, though not, I hope, with thirst?
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>Insidiously.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="top2 p6"><i>Song, by the</i> Wicked Uncle.</p>
+
+<p class="p6">
+The sun is scorching overhead;<br>
+<span class="p1">The roads are dry and dusty;</span><br>
+And here are berries, ripe and red,<br>
+<span class="p1">Refreshing when you're <i>thusty</i>!</span><br>
+They're hanging just within your reach,<br>
+<span class="p1">Inviting you to clutch them!</span><br>
+But&mdash;as your Uncle&mdash;I beseech<br>
+<span class="p1">You won't attempt to touch them?</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Tommy and Jane</i> (<i>dutifully</i>). We'll do whatever you
+beseech, and not attempt to touch them!</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim p14">[<i>Annoyance of</i> W. U.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p6 pim4">
+<i>The W. U.</i> <span class="p1">Temptation</span> (so I've understood)<br>
+<span class="p1">A child, in order kept, shuns;</span><br>
+And fruit in lanes is seldom good<br>
+<span class="p1">(With several exceptions).</span><br>
+However freely you partake,<br>
+<span class="p1">It can't&mdash;as you are young&mdash;kill,</span><br>
+But should it cause a stomach-ache&mdash;<br>
+<span class="p1">Well, don't you blame your Uncle!</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="pi"><i>Tommy and Jane.</i> No, should it cause a stomach-ache,
+we will not blame our Uncle!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The W. U.</i> (<i>aside</i>). <span class="p1">They'll need</span> no further personal assistance,<br>
+But take the bait when I am at a distance.<br>
+I could not, were I paid a thousand ducats,<br>
+(<i>With sentiment</i>) Stand by, and see them kick their little buckets,<br>
+Or look on while their sticks this pretty pair cut!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>Stealing off.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Tommy.</i> <span class="p1">What, Uncle,</span> going?</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The W. U.</i> (<i>with assumed jauntiness</i>). <span class="p1">Just</span> to get my hair
+cut! <span class="p2">[<i>Goes.</i></span></p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Tommy</i> (<i>looking wistfully at the berries</i>). <span class="p1">I say,</span> they <i>do</i> look nice, Jane, such a lot too!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Jane</i> (<i>demurely</i>). <span class="p1">Well,</span> Tommy, Uncle never told us <i>not</i> to.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>Slow music; they gradually approach the berries, which
+they pick and eat with increasing relish, culminating
+in a dance of delight.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="p8 top2"><i>Duet</i>&mdash;<span class="smcap">Tommy</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Jane</span> (<i>with step-dance</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Tommy</i> (<i>dancing, with his mouth full</i>). <span class="p1">These berries</span> ain't so bad&mdash;although they've far too much acidity.</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Jane</i> (<i>ditto</i>). <span class="p1">To me,</span> their only drawback is a dash of insipidity.</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Tommy</i> (<i>rudely</i>). <span class="p1">But,</span> all the same, you're wolfing 'em with wonderful avidity!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Jane</i> (<i>indignantly</i>). <span class="p1">No,</span> <i>that</i> I'm not, so <i>there</i> now!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Tommy</i> (<i>calmly</i>).                          <span class="p12">But</span> you <i>are</i>!</p>
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Jane.</i>                                                 <span class="p18">And</span> so are <i>you</i>!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>They retire up, dancing, and eat more berries&mdash;after
+which they gaze thoughtfully at each other.</i></p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Jane.</i> <span class="p1">This</span> fruit is most refreshing&mdash;but it's curious how it cloys on you!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Tommy</i> (<i>with anxiety</i>). <span class="p1">I wonder</span> why all appetite for dinner it destroys in you!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Jane.</i> <span class="p1">Oh,</span> Tommy, aren't you half afraid you've ate enough to poison you?</p>
+<p>
+<i>Tommy.</i> <span class="p1">No,</span> <i>that</i> I'm not&mdash;so there now! &amp;c., &amp;c.
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p18 pim">[<i>They dance as before.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Tommy.</i> <span class="p1">Jane,</span> <i>is</i> your palate parching up in horrible aridity?</p>
+<p>
+<i>Jane.</i> <span class="p1">It is,</span> and in my throat's a lump of singular solidity.</p>
+<p>
+<i>Tommy.</i> <span class="p1">Then</span> that is why you're dancing with such pokerlike rigidity.
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>Refrain as before; they dance with decreasing spirit,
+and finally stop, and fan one another with their
+hats.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Jane.</i> <span class="p1">I'm better</span> now that on my brow there is a little breeziness.</p>
+<p>
+<i>Tommy.</i> <span class="p1">My passing</span> qualm is growing calm, and tightness turns to easiness.</p>
+<p>
+<i>Jane.</i> <span class="p1">You seem</span> to me tormented by a tendency to queasiness?
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>Refrain; they attempt to continue the dance&mdash;but
+suddenly sit down side by side.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Jane</i> (<i>with a gasp</i>). <span class="p1">I don't</span> know what it is&mdash;but, oh, I <i>do</i> feel so peculiar!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Tommy</i> (<i>with a gulp</i>). <span class="p1">I've</span> tumults taking place within that I may say unruly are.<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Jane.</i> <span class="p1">Why,</span> Tommy, you are turning green&mdash;you really and you <i>truly</i> are!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Tommy.</i> <span class="p1">No,</span> <i>that</i> I'm not, so <i>there</i> now!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Jane.</i>                              <span class="p14">But you</span> <i>are</i>!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Tommy.</i>                                 <span class="p16">And so</span> are <i>you</i>!
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Melancholy music; to which</i> <span class="smcap">Tommy</span> <i>and</i> <i>Jane</i>, <i>after
+a few convulsive movements, gradually become inanimate.
+Enter old</i> Farmer <span class="smcap">Copeer</span> <i>from gate,
+carrying a large bottle labelled "Cattle Medicine."</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Farmer C.</i> <span class="p1">It's time</span> I gave the old bay mare her drench.
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>Stumbles over the children.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+What's here? A lifeless lad!&mdash;and little wench!<br>
+Been eating berries&mdash;where did they get <i>them</i> idees?<br>
+For cows, when took so, I've the reg'lar remedies.<br>
+I'll try 'em here&mdash;and if their state the worse is,<br>
+Why, they shall have them balls I give my 'erses!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>Carries the bodies off just before the</i> W. U. <i>re-enters</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>W. U.</i> <span class="p1">The children&mdash;gone?</span> yon bush of berries less full!<br>
+Hooray, my little stratagem's successful!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>Dances a triumphant pas seul. Re-enter Farmer C.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Farmer C.</i> <span class="p1">Been</span> looking for your little niece and nephew?</p>
+<p>
+<i>The W. U.</i> <span class="p1">Yes,</span> searching for them everywhere&mdash;</p>
+<p>
+<i>Farmer C.</i> (<i>ironically</i>).             <span class="p10">Oh,</span> <i>hev'</i> you?<br>
+Then let me tell you, from all pain they're free, Sir.</p>
+<p>
+<i>The W. U.</i> (<i>falling on his knees</i>). <span class="p1"><i>I</i></span> didn't poison them&mdash;it wasn't <i>me</i>, Sir!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Farmer C.</i> <span class="p1">I thought</span> as much&mdash;a constable I'll run for.<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p>
+</div>
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>Exit.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The W. U.</i> <span class="p1">My wretched</span> nerves again! <i>This</i> time I'm done for!<br>
+Well, though I'm trapped, and useless all disguise is,<br>
+My case shall ne'er come on at the Assizes!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>Rushes desperately to tree and crams himself with the
+remaining berries, which produce an almost instantaneous
+effect. Re-enter</i> <span class="smcap">Tom</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Jane</span> <i>from gate,
+looking pale and limp. Terror of the</i> Wicked Uncle
+<i>as he turns and recognises them</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The W. U.</i> (<i>with tremulous politeness</i>). <span class="p1">The</span> shades of Jane and Tommy, I presume?
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>Re-enter Farmer C.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Jane and Tommy</i> (<i>pointing to Farmer C.</i>) <span class="p1">His Cattle</span> Mixtures snatched us from the tomb!</p>
+<p>
+<i>The W. U.</i> (<i>with a flicker of hope</i>). <span class="p1">Why, then</span> the self-same drugs will ease <i>my</i> torments!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Farmer C.</i> (<i>chuckling</i>). <span class="p1">Too late!</span> they've drunk the lot, the little vormints!</p>
+<p>
+<i>The W. U.</i> (<i>bitterly</i>). <span class="p1">So out</span> of life I must inglorious wriggle,<br>
+Pursued by Tommy's grin, and Jenny's giggle!
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>Dies in great agony, while</i> <span class="smcap">Tommy</span>, <span class="smcap">Jane</span>, <i>and</i> Farmer
+<span class="smcap">Copeer</span> <i>look on with mixed emotions as the Curtain
+falls</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<hr class="c25"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="XI_THE_RIVAL_DOLLS" id="XI_THE_RIVAL_DOLLS"></a><span class="smcap">xi.</span>&mdash;THE RIVAL DOLLS.</h2>
+
+<p class="vide">"Miss Jenny and Polly had each a new dolly."&mdash;<i>Vide Poem.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="dramah"><span class="smcap">Characters.</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table class="autotable">
+<tr><td class="left"><i>Miss Jenny</i><br><i>Miss Polly</i></td>
+<td class="left"><span class="large">}</span></td><td class="left">By the Sisters <span class="smcap">Leamar</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left"><i>The Soldier Doll</i><br><i>The Sailor Doll</i></td>
+<td class="left"><span class="large">}</span></td><td class="left">By the Two <span class="smcap">Armstrongs</span>.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="top2 pim"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>A Nursery. Enter</i> Miss <span class="smcap">Jenny</span> <i>and</i> Miss <span class="smcap">Polly</span>,
+<i>who perform a blameless step-dance with an improving
+chorus</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Oh, isn't it jolly! we've each a new dolly,<br>
+<span class="p1">And one is a Soldier, the other's a Tar;</span><br>
+We're fully contented with what's been presented,<br>
+<span class="p1">Such good little children we both of us are!</span>
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>They dance up to a cupboard, from which they bring out
+two large Dolls, which they place on chairs.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Miss J.</i> <span class="p1"><i>Don't</i></span> they look nice! Come, Polly, let us strive<br>
+To make ourselves believe that they're alive!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Miss P.</i> (<i>addressing</i> Sailor D.). <span class="p1">I'm glad</span> you're mine. I dote on all that's nautical.</p>
+<p>
+<i>The Sailor D.</i> (<i>opening his eyes suddenly</i>). <span class="p1">Excuse me,</span> Miss, your sister's more <i>my</i> sort o' gal.<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>Kisses his hand to</i> Miss J., <i>who shrinks back, shocked
+and alarmed</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Miss J.</i> <span class="p1">Oh, Polly,</span> <i>did</i> you hear? I feel so shy!</p>
+<p>
+<i>The Sailor D.</i> (<i>with mild self-assertion</i>). <span class="p1"><i>I</i></span> can say "Pa" and "Ma"&mdash;and wink my eye.
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>Does so at</i> Miss P., <i>who runs in terror to</i> Miss J.'s
+<i>side</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Miss J.</i> <span class="p1">Why,</span> both are showing signs of animation.</p>
+<p>
+<i>Miss P.</i> <span class="p1">Who'd</span> think we had such strong imagination!</p>
+<p>
+<i>The Soldier Doll</i> (<i>aside to the Sailor D.</i>). <span class="p1">I say,</span> old fellow, we have caught their fancy&mdash;<br>
+In each of us they now a real man see!<br>
+Let's keep it up!</p>
+<p>
+<i>The Sailor D.</i> (<i>dubiously.</i>) <span class="p1">D'ye</span> think as we can <i>do</i> it?</p>
+<p>
+<i>The Soldier D.</i> <span class="p1">You</span> stick by me, and I will see you through it.<br>
+Sit up, and turn your toes out,&mdash;don't you loll;<br>
+Put on the Man, and drop the bloomin' Doll!
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>The</i> Sailor <span class="smcap">Doll</span> <i>pulls himself together, and rises from
+chair importantly</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The Sailor D.</i> (<i>in the manner of a Music-hall Chairman</i>)&mdash;</p>
+<p class="p4">
+Ladies, with your kind leave, this gallant gent<br>
+Will now his military sketch present.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[Miss J. <i>and</i> P. <i>applaud</i>: <i>the</i> Soldier D., <i>after feebly
+expostulating, is induced to sing</i>.</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="top2 p8"><i>Song, by the</i> Soldier Doll.</p>
+
+<div class="p8"><p>
+When I used to be displayed,<br>
+In the Burlington Arcade,<br>
+With artillery arrayed<br>
+<span class="p3">Underneath.</span><br>
+<span class="p6">Shoulder Hump</span></p>
+<p>
+I imagine that I made<br>
+All the Lady Dolls afraid,<br>
+I should draw my battle-blade<br>
+<span class="p3">From its sheath,</span><br>
+<span class="p6">Shoulder Hump</span></p>
+<p>
+For I'm Mars's gallant son,<br>
+And my back I've shown to none,<br>
+Nor was ever seen to run<br>
+<span class="p3">From the strife!</span><br>
+<span class="p6">Shoulder Hump!</span></p>
+<p>
+Oh, the battles I'd have won,<br>
+And the dashing deeds have done,<br>
+If I'd ever fired a gun<br>
+<span class="p3">In my life!</span><br>
+<span class="p6">Shoulder Hump!</span>
+</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="top2 p6"><i>Refrain (to be sung marching round Stage).</i></p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+By your right flank, Wheel!<br>
+Let the front rank kneel!<br>
+With the bristle of the steel<br>
+<span class="p3">To the foe.</span><br>
+Till their regiments reel,<br>
+At our rattling peal,<br>
+And the military zeal<br>
+<span class="p3">We show!</span><br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 268px;">
+<a href="images/169a.jpg"><img src="images/169.jpg" width="268" height="383" alt="&quot;Shoulder Hump!&quot;" title="">
+</a><span class="caption">&quot;Shoulder Hump!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>Repeat, with the whole company marching round after
+him.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The Soldier Doll.</i> <span class="p1">My friend</span> will next oblige&mdash;this jolly Jack Tar.<br>
+Will give his song and chorus in charàck-tar!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>Same business with</i> Sailor D.</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p class="top2 p6"><i>Song, by the</i> Sailor Doll.</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+In costume I'm<br>
+So maritime,<br>
+You'd never suppose the fact is,<br>
+That with the Fleet<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>In Regent Street,<br>
+I'd precious little naval practice!<br>
+There was saucy craft,<br>
+Rigged fore an' aft,<br>
+Inside o' Mr. Cre-mer's.<br>
+From Noah's Arks to Clipper-built barques,<br>
+Like-wise mechanical stea-mers.
+</p>
+
+
+<p class="top2 p10"><i>Chorus.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p6">
+But to navigate the Serpentine,<br>
+<span class="p4">Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy!</span><br>
+With clockwork, sails, or spirits of wine,<br>
+<span class="p4">Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy!</span><br>
+I did respeckfully decline,<br>
+So I was left in port to pine,<br>
+Which wasn't azactually the line<br>
+Of a rollicking Sailor Boy, Yeo-ho!<br>
+Of a rollicking Sailor Bo-oy!</p>
+
+<p class="top2 p8">
+Yes, there was lots<br>
+Of boats and yachts,<br>
+Of timber and of tin, too;<br>
+But one and all<br>
+Was far too small<br>
+For a doll o' my size to get into<br>
+I was too big<br>
+On any brig<br>
+To ship without disas-ter,<br>
+And it wouldn't never do<br>
+When the cap'n and the crew<br>
+Were a set 'o little swabs all plaster!
+</p>
+
+<p class="p14"><i>Chorus</i>&mdash;So to navigate the Serpentine, &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p class="p8">
+An Ark is p'raps<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>The berth for chaps<br>
+As is fond o' Natural Hist'ry.<br>
+But I sez to Shem<br>
+And the rest o' them,<br>
+"How you get along at all's a myst'ry!<br>
+With a Wild Beast Show<br>
+Let loose below,<br>
+And four fe-males on deck too!<br>
+I never could agree<br>
+With your happy fami-lee,<br>
+And your lubberly ways I objeck to."
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>Chorus. Hornpipe by the company, after which the</i>
+Soldier Doll <i>advances condescendingly to</i> Miss
+<span class="smcap">Jenny</span>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>The Sold. D.</i> <span class="p1">Invincible</span> I'm reckoned by the Ladies,<br>
+But yield to you&mdash;though conquering my trade is!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Miss J.</i> (<i>repulsing him</i>). <span class="p1">Oh,</span> go away, you great conceited thing, you!
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>The</i> Sold. D. <i>persists in offering her attentions.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Miss P.</i> (<i>watching them bitterly</i>). <span class="p1">To be</span> deserted by one's doll <i>does</i> sting you!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>The</i> Sailor D. <i>approaches.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>The Sailor D.</i> (<i>to</i> Miss P.) <span class="p1">Let <i>me</i></span> console you, Miss, a Sailor Doll<br>
+As swears his 'art was ever true to Poll!
+</p>
+
+<p class="top2 p8">(N.B.&mdash;<i>Good opportunity for Song here.</i>)</p>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Miss P.</i> (<i>indignantly to</i> Miss J.) <span class="p1">Your</span> Sailor's teasing me to be his idol!<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>Do make him stop&mdash;(<i>spitefully</i>)&mdash;When you've <i>quite</i> done with <i>my</i> doll!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Miss J.</i> (<i>scornfully.</i>) <span class="p1">If</span> you suppose <i>I</i> want your wretched warrior,<br>
+I'm sorry <i>for</i> you!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Miss P.</i>            <span class="p8">I</span> for you am sorrier.</p>
+<p>
+<i>Miss J.</i> (<i>weeping</i>, <span class="smcap">r.</span>). <span class="p1">Polly</span> preferred to me&mdash;what ignominy!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Miss P.</i> (<i>weeping</i>, <span class="smcap">l.</span>). <span class="p1">My</span> horrid Soldier jilting me for Jenny!
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>The two Dolls face one another</i>, <span class="smcap">c.</span></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Sailor D.</i> (<i>to</i> Soldier D.). <span class="p1">You've</span> made her sluice her sky-lights now, you swab!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Soldier D.</i> (<i>to</i> Sailor D.). <span class="p1">As</span> you have broke her heart, I'll break your nob!      <span class="p2">[<i>Hits him.</i></span></p>
+<p>
+<i>Sailor D.</i> (<i>in a pale fury</i>). <span class="p1">This</span> insult must be blotted out in bran!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Soldier D.</i> (<i>fiercely</i>). <span class="p1">Come on,</span> I'll shed your sawdust&mdash;if I can!
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[Miss J. <i>and</i> P. <i>throw themselves between the combatants</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Miss J.</i> <span class="p1">For</span> any mess you make <i>we</i> shall be scolded,<br>
+So wait until a drugget we've unfolded!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>They lay down drugget on Stage.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p2"><p>
+<i>The Soldier D.</i> (<i>politely</i>). <span class="p1">No</span> hurry, Miss, <i>we</i> don't object to waiting.</p>
+<p>
+<i>The Sailor D.</i> (<i>aside</i>). <span class="p1">His</span> valour&mdash;like my own&mdash;'s evaporating!<br>
+(<i>Defiantly to</i> Soldier D.). <span class="p1">On guard!</span> You'll see how soon I'll run you through!<br>
+(<i>Confidentially.</i>) <span class="p1">(If</span> you will not prod <i>me</i>, I won't pink <i>you</i>.)</p>
+<p>
+<i>The Soldier D.</i> <span class="p1">Through</span> your false kid my deadly blade I'll pass!<br>
+(<i>Confidentially.</i>) <span class="p1">(Look</span> here, old fellow, don't you be a <i>hass</i>!)
+</p></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p>
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>They exchange passes at a considerable distance.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>The Sailor D.</i> (<i>aside</i>). <span class="p1">Don't</span> lose your temper now!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Sold. D.</i>        <span class="p12">Don't</span> get excited.<br>
+<span class="p1">Do</span> keep a little farther off!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Sail. D.</i>                      <span class="p10">Delighted!</span>
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>Wounds</i> Soldier D. <i>by misadventure.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Sold. D.</i> (<i>annoyed</i>). <span class="p1">There</span> now, you've gone and made upon my wax a dent!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Sail. D.</i> <span class="p1">Excuse</span> me, it was really quite an accident.</p>
+<p>
+<i>Sold. D.</i> (<i>savagely</i>). <span class="p1">Such</span> clumsiness would irritate a saint!
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>Stabs Sailor Doll.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Miss J. and P.</i> (<i>imploringly</i>). <span class="p1">Oh,</span> stop! the sight of sawdust turns us faint!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>They drop into chairs, swooning.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Sail. D.</i> <span class="p1">I'll</span> pay you out for that!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>Stabs Soldier D.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Sold. D.</i>                            <span class="p8">Right</span> through you've poked me!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Sailor D.</i> <span class="p1">So</span> you have <i>me</i>!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Sold. D.</i>                  <span class="p8">You</span> shouldn't have provoked me!
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>They fall transfixed.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Sailor D.</i> (<i>faintly</i>). <span class="p1">Alas,</span> we have been led away by vanity.<br>
+Dolls shouldn't try to imitate humanity!      <span class="p2">[<i>Dies.</i></span></p>
+<p>
+<i>Soldier D.</i> <span class="p1">For,</span> if they do, they'll end like us, unpitied,<br>
+Each on the other's sword absurdly spitted!
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim p14">[<i>Dies.</i> Miss J. <i>and</i> P. <i>revive, and bend sadly over the
+corpses</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Miss Jenny.</i> <span class="p1">From</span> their untimely end we draw this moral,<br>
+How wrong it is, even for dolls, to quarrel!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Miss Polly.</i> <span class="p1">Yes,</span> Jenny, in the fate of these poor fellows see<br>
+What sad results may spring from female jealousy!
+</p></div>
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>They embrace penitently as Curtain falls.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+
+<hr class="c25"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="XII_CONRAD_OR_THE_THUMBSUCKER" id="XII_CONRAD_OR_THE_THUMBSUCKER"></a><span class="smcap">xii.</span>&mdash;CONRAD; OR, THE THUMBSUCKER.</h2>
+
+<h5>(<i>Adapted freely from a well-known Poem in the
+"Struwwelpeter."</i>)</h5>
+
+
+<p class="dramah"><span class="smcap">Characters.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p12"><p><i>Conrad (aged 6).</i></p>
+<p><i>Conrad's Mother(47).</i></p>
+<p><i>The Scissorman (age immaterial).</i></p></div>
+
+
+<blockquote><p class="top2 pim"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>An Apartment in the house of</i> <span class="smcap">Conrad's</span> <i>Mother,
+window in centre at back, opening upon a quiet thoroughfare.
+It is dusk, and the room is lighted only by the reflected
+gleam from the street-lamps.</i> <span class="smcap">Conrad</span> <i>discovered
+half-hidden by left window-curtain.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Conrad</i> (<i>watching street</i>). <span class="p1">Still</span> there! For full an hour he has not budged<br>
+Beyond the circle of yon lamp-post's rays!<br>
+The gaslight falls upon his crimson hose,<br>
+And makes a steely glitter at his thigh,<br>
+While from the shadow peers a hatchet-face<br>
+And fixes sinister malignant eyes&mdash;<br>
+On whom? <span class="p1">(<i>Shuddering.</i>)</span> <span class="p1">I dare</span> not trust myself to guess<br>
+And yet&mdash;ah, no&mdash;it cannot be myself!<br>
+I am so young&mdash;one is still young at six!&mdash;<br>
+What man can say that I have injured him?<br>
+Since, in my Mother's absence all the day<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>Engaged upon Municipal affairs,<br>
+I peacefully beguile the weary hours<br>
+By suction of consolatory thumbs.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>Here he inserts his thumb in his mouth, but almost
+instantly removes it with a start.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Again I meet those eyes! I'll look no more&mdash;<br>
+But draw the blind and shut my terror out.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>Draws blind and lights candle; Stage lightens.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Heigho, I wish my Mother were at home!<br>
+(<i>Listening.</i>) <span class="p1">At last!</span> I hear her latch-key in the door!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Conrad's</span> <i>Mother, a lady of strong-minded appearance,
+rationally attired. She carries a large reticule
+full of documents.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Conrad's M.</i> <span class="p1">Would,</span> Conrad, that you were of riper years,<br>
+So you might share your Mother's joy to-day,<br>
+The day that crowns her long and arduous toil<br>
+As one of London's County Councillors!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Conrad.</i> <span class="p1">Nay,</span> speak; for though my mind be immature,<br>
+One topic still can charm my infant ear,<br>
+That ever craves the oft-repeated tale.<br>
+I love to hear of that august assembly
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>His Mother lifts her bonnet solemnly.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+In which my Mother's honoured voice is raised!</p>
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>C.'s M.</i> (<i>gratified</i>). <span class="p1">Learn,</span> Conrad, then, that, after many months<br>
+Of patient "lobbying" (you've heard the term?)<br>
+The measure by my foresight introduced<br>
+Has triumphed by a bare majority!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Con.</i> <span class="p1">My</span> bosom thrills with dutiful delight&mdash;<br>
+Although I yet for information wait<br>
+As to the scope and purpose of the statute.</p>
+<p>
+<i>C.'s M.</i> <span class="p1">You</span> show an interest so intelligent<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>That well deserves it should be satisfied,<br>
+Be seated, Conrad, at your Mother's knee,<br>
+And you shall hear the full particulars.<br>
+You know how zealously I advocate<br>
+The sacred cause of Nursery Reform?<br>
+How through my efforts every infant's toys<br>
+Are carefully inspected once a month&mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+<p>
+<i>Con.</i> (<i>wearily</i>). <span class="p1">Nay,</span> Mother, you forget&mdash;I <i>have</i> no toys.</p>
+<p>
+<i>C.'s M.</i> <span class="p1">Which</span> brings you under the exemption clause.<br>
+But&mdash;to resume; how Nursery Songs and Tales<br>
+Must now be duly licensed by our Censor,<br>
+And any deviation from the text<br>
+Forbidden under heavy penalties?<br>
+All that you know. Well; with concern of late,<br>
+I have remarked among our infancy<br>
+The rapid increase of a baneful habit<br>
+On which I scarce can bring my tongue to dwell.
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<i>The Stage darker; blind at back illuminated.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Oh, Conrad, there are children&mdash;think of it!&mdash;<br>
+So lost to every sense of decency<br>
+That, in mere wantonness or brainless sloth,<br>
+They obstinately suck forbidden thumbs!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[<span class="smcap">Conrad</span> <i>starts with irrepressible emotion.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+Forgive me if I shock your innocence!<br>
+(<i>Sadly.</i>) <span class="p1">Such</span> things exist&mdash;but soon shall cease to be,<br>
+Thanks to the measure we have passed to-day!</p>
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Con.</i> (<i>with growing uneasiness</i>). <span class="p1">But</span> how can statutes check such practices?</p>
+<p>
+<i>C.'s M.</i> (<i>patting his head</i>). <span class="p1">Right</span> shrewdly questioned, boy! I come to that.<br>
+Some timid sentimentalists advised<br>
+Compulsory restraint in woollen gloves,<br>
+Or the deterrent aid of bitter aloes.<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span><i>I</i> saw the evil had too deep a seat<br>
+To yield to such half-hearted remedies.<br>
+No; we must cut, ere we could hope to cure!<br>
+Nay, interrupt me not; my Bill appoints<br>
+A new official, by the style and title<br>
+Of "London County Council Scissorman,"<br>
+For the detection of young "suck-a-thumbs."
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>Here the shadow of a huge hand brandishing a gigantic
+pair of shears appears upon the blind.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>Con.</i> (<i>hiding his face in his Mother's lap.</i>)<span class="p1"> Ah,</span> Mother,
+see!... the scissors!... On the blind!</p>
+<p>
+<i>C.'s M.</i> <span class="p1">Why,</span> how you tremble! You've no cause to fear.<br>
+The shadow of his grim insignia<br>
+Should have no terror&mdash;save for thumb-suckers.</p>
+<p>
+<i>Con.</i> <span class="p1">And</span> what for <i>them</i>?</p>
+<p>
+<i>C.'s M.</i> (<i>complacently</i>). <span class="p1">A doom</span> devised by me&mdash;<br>
+The confiscation of the culprit thumbs.<br>
+Thus shall our statute cure while it corrects,<br>
+For those who have no thumbs can err no more.
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>The shadow slowly passes on the blind</i>, <span class="smcap">Conrad</span> <i>appearing
+relieved at its departure. Loud knocking without.
+Both start to their feet.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>C.'s M.</i> <span class="p1">Who</span> knocks so loud at such an hour as this?</p>
+<p>
+<i>A Voice.</i> <span class="p1">Open,</span> I charge ye. In the Council's name!</p>
+<p>
+<i>C.'s M.</i> <span class="p1">'Tis</span> the Official Red-legged Scissorman,<br>
+Who doubtless calls to thank me for the post.</p>
+<p>
+<i>Con.</i> (<i>with a gloomy determination</i>). <span class="p1">More</span> like his business, Madam, is with&mdash;Me!</p>
+<p>
+<i>C.'s M.</i> (<i>suddenly enlightened</i>). <span class="p1">A</span> Suck-a-thumb? ... you, <span class="smcap">Conrad</span>?</p>
+<p>
+<i>C.</i> (<i>desperately</i>). <span class="p1">Ay,&mdash;</span>from birth!
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>Profound silence, as Mother and Son face one another.
+The knocking is renewed.</i></p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>C.'s M.</i> <span class="p1">Oh,</span> this is horrible&mdash;it must not be!<br>
+I'll shoot the bolt and barricade the door.
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<span class="smcap">Conrad</span> <i>places himself before it, and addresses his
+Mother in a tone of incisive irony</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>Con.</i> <span class="p1">Why,</span> where is all the zeal you showed of late?<br>
+Is't thus that you the Roman Matron play?<br>
+Trick not a statute of your own devising.<br>
+Come, your official's waiting&mdash;let him in!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p14 pim">[C's M. <i>shrinks back appalled</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4">
+So? you refuse!&mdash;(<i>throwing open door</i>)&mdash;then&mdash;enter, Scissorman!
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>Enter the</i> Scissorman, <i>masked and in red tights, with
+his hand upon the hilt of his shears.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>The S.</i> (<i>in a passionless tone</i>). <span class="p1">Though</span> sorry to create unpleasantness,<br>
+I claim the thumbs of this young gentleman,<br>
+Which these own eyes have marked between his lips.</p>
+<p>
+<i>C.'s M.</i> (<i>frantically</i>). <span class="p1">Thou</span> minion of a meddling tyranny,<br>
+Go exercise thy loathsome trade elsewhere!</p>
+<p>
+<i>The S.</i> (<i>civilly</i>). <span class="p1">I've</span> duties here that must be first performed.</p>
+<p>
+<i>C.'s M.</i> (<i>wildly</i>). <span class="p1">Take</span> my two thumbs for his!</p>
+<p>
+<i>The S.</i>                                        <span class="p12">'Tis</span> not the law&mdash;<br>
+Which is a model of lucidity.</p>
+<p>
+<i>Con.</i> (<i>calmly</i>). <span class="p1">Sir,</span> you speak well. My thumbs are forfeited,<br>
+And they alone must pay the penalty.</p>
+<p>
+<i>The S.</i> (<i>with approval</i>). <span class="p1">Right!</span> Step with me into the outer hall,<br>
+And have the business done without delay.</p>
+<p>
+<i>C.'s M.</i> (<i>throwing herself between them.</i>) <span class="p1">Stay,</span> I'm a<br>
+Councillor&mdash;this law was <i>mine</i>!<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>Hereby I do suspend the clause I drew.</p>
+<p>
+<i>The S.</i> <span class="p1">You</span> should have drawn it milder.</p>
+<p>
+<i>Con.</i>                                    <span class="p12">Must</span> I teach<br>
+A parent laws were meant to be obeyed?<br>
+<span class="p1">[<i>To Sc.</i>]</span> Lead on, Sir. <span class="p1">(<i>To his Mother with cold courtesy.</i>)</span>
+<span class="p1">Madam,&mdash;may I trouble you?</span>
+</p></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 289px;">
+<a href="images/179a.jpg"><img src="images/179.jpg" width="289" height="351" alt="&quot;My Conrad!&quot;" title="">
+</a><span class="caption">&quot;My Conrad!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>He thrusts her gently aside and passes out with the</i> Sc.;
+<i>the door is shut and fastened from without.</i> C.'s
+M. <i>rushes to door which she attempts to force without
+success.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4 pim">
+<i>C.'s M.</i> <span class="p1">In</span> vain I batter at a senseless door,<br>
+I'll to the keyhole train my tortured ear.<br>
+<span class="p1">(<i>Listening.</i>)</span> <span class="p1">Dead</span> silence! ... is it over&mdash;or, to come?<br>
+Hark! was not that the click of meeting shears?...<br>
+Again! and followed by the sullen thud<br>
+Of thumbs that drop upon linoleum!...<br>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim">[<i>The door is opened and</i> <span class="smcap">Conrad</span> <i>appears, pale but erect.</i>
+<i>N.B. The whole of this scene has been compared to
+one in "La Tosca"&mdash;which, however, it exceeds in
+horror and intensity.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="p4 pim"><p>
+<i>C.'s M.</i> <span class="p1">They</span> send him back to me, bereft of both!<br>
+My <span class="smcap">Conrad</span>! What?&mdash;repulse a Mother's Arms!</p>
+<p>
+<i>Con.</i> (<i>with chilling composure</i>). <span class="p1">Yes,</span> Madam, for between us ever more,<br>
+A barrier invisible is raised,<br>
+And should I strive to reach those arms again,<br>
+Two spectral thumbs would press me coldly back&mdash;<br>
+The thumbs I sucked in blissful ignorance,<br>
+The thumbs that solaced me in solitude,<br>
+The thumbs your County Council took from me,<br>
+And your endearments scarcely will replace!<br>
+Where, Madam, lay the sin in sucking them?<br>
+The dog will lick his foot, the cat her claw,<br>
+His paws sustain the hibernating bear&mdash;<br>
+And you decree no law to punish <i>them</i>!<br>
+Yet, in your rage for infantine reform,<br>
+You rushed this most ridiculous enactment&mdash;<br>
+Its earliest victim&mdash;your neglected son!</p>
+<p>
+<i>C.'s M.</i> (<i>falling at his feet</i>). <span class="p1">Say,</span> <span class="smcap">Conrad</span>, you will some day pardon me?</p>
+<p>
+<i>Con.</i> (<i>bitterly, as he regards his maimed hands.</i>) <span class="p1">Aye&mdash;on</span>
+the day these pollards send forth shoots!
+</p></div>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pim right">[<i>His</i> Mother <i>turns aside with a heartbroken wail</i>; <span class="smcap">Conrad</span>
+<i>standing apart in gloomy estrangement as the
+Curtain descends.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<hr class="c65">
+<p class="center">BRADBURY, AGNEW, &amp; CO. LD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
+</p>
+
+<hr class="c65">
+
+<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> <p>Some minor obvious punctuation and typographical errors have been corrected silently. Unclosed quotes have been left as they appear in the original.</p>
+<p><b>Changes made:</b></p>
+
+<ul><li>    Pg 15 "With enthusiams [replaced with "enthusiasm"] We can make
+ a shift to do it"</li>
+
+<li>    Pg 66 "and the restless winds be mowning." [replaced full stop
+   with comma]</li>
+
+<li>    Pg 95 "The Monster Man-trap steathily" [replaced with
+    "stealthily"]</li>
+
+<li>    Pg 128 "Even <i>this</i> cannot shatter her alrtess [replaced with
+   "artless"] faith"</li>
+
+<li>    Pg 131 "If you please, Ladies and Gentlemen, my Grandmamma"
+   [replaced with "Grandmama" (used previously)]</li>
+
+<li>    Pg 156 "a constable I'll run for, [replaced comma with full stop.]"</li></ul>
+
+<p><b>Both versions of the following words were used in the text:</b></p>
+
+<ul><li>    latchkey, latch-key</li>
+<li>    limelight, lime-light</li>
+<li>    sashline, sash-line</li>
+<li>    selfsame, self-same</li></ul>
+
+<p><b>All uncertain hyphenation left hyphenated:</b></p>
+
+<ul><li>    Pg 25  a-noma-lee</li>
+<li>    Pg 38  elec-tresses</li>
+<li>    Pg 99  Bed-chamber</li>
+<li>    Pg 115 low-born</li>
+<li>    Pg 120 Christmas-time</li>
+<li>    Pg 164 sky-lights</li></ul>
+</div>
+
+
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL ***</div>
+<div style='text-align:left'>
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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #39045 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/39045)
diff --git a/old/39045-8.txt b/old/39045-8.txt
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas, by 
+F. Anstey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas
+       Collected, Improved and Re-arranged from Punch
+
+Author: F. Anstey
+
+Release Date: March 4, 2012 [EBook #39045]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Clarke, Fulvia Hughes and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
+                    }
+                    } denotes a large curly bracket.
+
+
+
+
+    MR. PUNCH'S
+
+    MODEL MUSIC-HALL
+
+    SONGS & DRAMAS.
+
+
+
+
+    By F. ANSTEY.
+
+    MR. PUNCH'S
+    YOUNG RECITER
+
+    Illustrated.
+
+    Price 3_s._ 6_d._
+
+
+
+
+    MR. PUNCH'S
+
+    MODEL MUSIC-HALL
+
+    SONGS & DRAMAS.
+
+    Collected, Improved, and Re-Arranged
+
+    FROM "PUNCH."
+
+    BY F. ANSTEY,
+    AUTHOR OF "VICE VERS�," "MR. PUNCH'S YOUNG RECITER," &C
+
+    With Illustrations.
+
+    LONDON:
+    BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., 9, BOUVERIE ST., E.C.
+    1892.
+
+
+
+
+    LONDON
+
+    BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                          PAGE
+
+    INTRODUCTION                             3
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+
+            SONGS.
+
+    I.--THE PATRIOTIC                       15
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    II.--THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL              18
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    III.--A DEMOCRATIC DITTY                23
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IV.--THE IDYLLIC                        27
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    V.--THE AMATORY EPISODIC                31
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VI.--THE CHIVALROUS                     37
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VII.--THE FRANKLY CANAILLE              40
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VIII.--THE DRAMATIC SCENA               47
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IX.--THE DUETTISTS                      53
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    X.--DISINTERESTED PASSION               59
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XI.--THE PANEGYRIC PATTER               63
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XII.--THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC          69
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XIII.--THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR        73
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+
+            DRAMAS.
+
+    I.--THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER         79
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    II.--JOE, THE JAM-EATER                 86
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    III.--THE MAN-TRAP                      93
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IV.--THE FATAL PIN                      99
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    V.--BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE           106
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VI.--COMING OF AGE                     113
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VII.--RECLAIMED!                       120
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    VIII.--JACK PARKER.                    132
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IX.--UNDER THE HARROW                  139
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    X.--TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE          151
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    XI.--THE RIVAL DOLLS                   158
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XII.--CONRAD; OR, THE THUMBSUCKER      166
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+[_The Illustrations are by Edward T. Reed; with others from "Punch."_]
+
+
+
+
+    MODEL MUSIC HALL.
+
+    INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: MUSIC HALL PROPRIETOR.]
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+The day is approaching, and may even now be within measurable distance,
+when the Music Halls of the Metropolis will find themselves under yet
+more stringent supervision than is already exercised by those active and
+intelligent guardians of middle-class morality, the London County
+Council. The moral microscope which detected latent indecency in the
+pursuit of a butterfly by a marionette is to be provided with larger
+powers, and a still more extended field. In other words, our far-sighted
+and vigilant County Councilmen, perceiving the futility of delaying the
+inspection of Variety Entertainments until such improprieties as are
+contained therein have been suffered to contaminate the public mind for
+a considerable period, are determined to nip these poison-flowers in the
+bud for the future; and, unless Mr. Punch is misinformed, will apply to
+Parliament at the earliest opportunity for clauses enabling them to
+require each item in every forthcoming performance to be previously
+submitted to a special committee for sanction and approval.
+
+The conscientious rigour with which they will discharge this new and
+congenial duty may perhaps be better understood after perusing the
+little prophetic sketch which follows; for Mr. Punch's Poet, when not
+employed in metrical composition, is a Seer of some pretensions in a
+small way, and several of his predictions have already been shamelessly
+plagiarised by the unscrupulous hand of Destiny. It is not improbable
+that this latest effort of his will receive a similar compliment,
+although this would be more gratifying if Destiny ever condescended to
+acknowledge such obligations. However, here is the forecast for what it
+is worth, a sum of incalculable amount:--
+
+
+POETIC LICENCES.
+
+A VISION OF THE NEAR FUTURE.
+
+     SCENE--_A Committee-room of the L. C. C.; Sub-Committee of
+     Censors, (appointed, under new regulations, to report on all
+     songs intended to be sung on the Music-hall Stage,) discovered
+     in session._
+
+  _Mr. Wheedler_ (_retained for the Ballad-writers_). The next licence I
+have to apply for is for--well, (_with some hesitation_)--a composition
+which certainly borders on the--er--amorous--but I think, Sir, you will
+allow that it is treated in a purely pastoral and Arcadian spirit.
+
+  _The Chairman_ (_gravely_). There _are_ arcades, Mr. Wheedler, I may
+remind you, which are by no means pastoral. I cannot too often repeat
+that we are here to fulfil the mission entrusted to us by the Democracy,
+which will no longer tolerate in its entertainments anything that is
+either vulgar, silly, or offensive in the slightest degree.
+    [_Applause._
+
+  _Mr. Wheedler._ Quite so. With your permission, Sir, I will read you the
+Ballad.
+    [_Reads._
+
+
+"MOLLY AND I.
+
+    "Oh! the day shall be marked in red letter----"
+
+  _The Chairman._ One moment, Mr. Wheedler, (_conferring with his
+colleagues_). "Marked with red letter"--isn't that a little--eh? liable
+to----You don't think they'll have read Hawthorne's book? Very well,
+then. Go on, Mr. Wheedler, please.
+
+  _Mr. W._ "'Twas warm, with a heaven so blue."
+
+  _First Censor._ Can't pass those two epithets--you must tone them down,
+Mr. Wheedler--_much_ too suggestive!
+
+  _Mr. W._ That shall be done.
+
+  _The Chairman._ And it ought to be "sky."
+
+  _Mr. W._ "When amid the lush meadows I met her,
+              My Molly, so modest and true!"
+
+  _Second Censor._ I object to the word "lush"--a direct incitement to
+intemperance!
+
+  _Mr. W._ I'll strike it out. (_Reads._)
+
+    "Around us the little kids rollicked,
+     Lighthearted were all the young lambs----"
+
+  _Second Censor._ Surely "kids" is _rather_ a vulgar expression, Mr.
+Wheedler? Make it "_children_," and I've no objection.
+
+  _Mr. W._ I have made it so. (_Reads._)
+
+    "They kicked up their legs as they frolicked"----
+
+  _Third Censor._ If that is intended to be done on the stage, I protest
+most strongly--a highly indecorous exhibition!
+     [_Murmurs of approval._
+
+  _Mr. W._ But they're only lambs!
+
+  _Third Censor._ Lambs, indeed! We are determined to put down _all_
+kicking in Music-hall songs, no matter _who_ does it! Strike that line
+out.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_reading_). "And frisked by the side of their dams."
+
+  _First Censor_ (_severely_). No profanity, Mr. Wheedler, _if_ you
+please!
+
+  _Mr. W._ Er--I'll read you the Refrain. (_Reads, limply._)
+
+    "Molly and I. With nobody nigh.
+      Hearts all a-throb with a rapturous bliss,
+    Molly was shy. And (at first) so was I,
+      Till I summoned up courage to ask for a kiss!"
+
+  _The Chairman._ "Nobody nigh," Mr. Wheedler? I don't quite like that.
+The Music Hall ought to set a good example to young persons. "Molly and
+I--_with her chaperon by_," is better.
+
+  _Second Censor._ And that last line--"asking for a kiss"--does the song
+state that they were formally engaged, Mr. Wheedler?
+
+  _Mr. W._ I--I believe it omits to mention the fact. But (_ingeniously_)
+it does not appear that the request was complied with.
+
+  _Second Censor._ No matter--it should never have been made. Have the
+goodness to alter that into--well, something of this kind. "And I always
+addressed her politely as "Miss." Then we _may_ pass it.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_reading the next verse_).
+
+    "She wore but a simple sun-bonnet."
+
+  _First Censor_ (_shocked_). Now really, Mr. Wheedler, _really_, Sir!
+
+  _Mr. W._    "For Molly goes plainly attired."
+
+  _First Censor_ (_indignantly_). I should think so--_Scandalous_!
+
+  _Mr. W._    "Malediction I muttered upon it,
+               One glimpse of her face I desired."
+
+[Illustration: Licensing Day.]
+
+  _The Chairman._ I think my colleague's exception is perhaps just a
+_leetle_ far-fetched. At all events, if we substitute for the last
+couplet,
+
+    "Her dress is sufficient--though on it
+     She only spends what is strictly required."
+
+Eh, Mr. Wheedler? Then we work in a moral as well, you see, and avoid
+malediction, which can only mean bad language.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_doubtfully_). With all respect, I submit that it doesn't scan
+quite so well----
+
+  _The Chairman_ (_sharply_). _I_ venture to think scansion may be
+sacrificed to propriety, _occasionally_, Mr. Wheedler--but pray go on.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_continuing_).
+
+    "To a streamlet we rambled together.
+      I carried her tenderly o'er.
+    In my arms--she's as light as a feather--
+      That sweetest of burdens I bore!"
+
+  _First Censor._ I really _must_ protest. No properly conducted young
+woman would ever have permitted such a thing. You must alter that, Mr.
+Wheedler!
+
+  _Second C._ And I don't know--but I rather fancy there's a
+"double-intender" in that word "light"--(_to colleague_)--it strikes
+me--eh?--what do _you_ think?----
+
+  _The Chairman_ (_in a conciliatory manner_). I am inclined to agree to
+some extent--not that I consider the words particularly objectionable in
+themselves, but we are men of the world, Mr. Wheedler, and as such we
+cannot shut our eyes to the fact that a Music-hall audience is only too
+apt to find significance in many apparently innocent expressions and
+phrases.
+
+  _Mr. W._ But, Sir, I understood from your remarks recently that the
+Democracy were strongly opposed to anything in the nature of
+suggestiveness!
+
+  _The Ch._ Exactly so; and therefore we cannot allow their
+susceptibilities to be shocked. (_With a severe jocosity._) Molly and
+you, Mr. Wheedler, must either ford the stream like ordinary persons, or
+stay where you are.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_depressed._) I may as well read the last verse, I suppose:
+
+    "Then under the flickering willow
+      I lay by the rivulet's brink,
+    With her lap for a sumptuous pillow----"
+
+  _First Censor._ We can't have that. It is really _not_ respectable.
+
+  _The Ch._ (_pleasantly._) Can't we alter it slightly? "I'd brought a
+small portable pillow." No objection to _that_!
+
+     [_The other Censors express dissent in undertones._
+
+  _Mr. W._    "Till I owned that I longed for a drink."
+
+  _Third C._ No, no! "A drink"! We all know what _that_ means--alcoholic
+stimulant of some kind. At all events that's how the audience are
+certain to take it.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_feebly_).
+
+    "So Molly her pretty hands hollowed
+      Into curves like an exquisite cup,
+    And draughts so delicious I swallowed,
+      That rivulet nearly dried up!"
+
+  _Third C._ Well, Mr. Wheedler, you're not going to defend _that_, I
+hope?
+
+  _Mr. W._ I'm not prepared to deny that it is silly--_very_ silly--but
+hardly--er--vulgar, I should have thought?
+
+  _Third C._ That is a question of taste, which we won't dispute. _I_ call
+it _distinctly_ vulgar. Why can't he drink out of his _own_ hands?
+
+  _The Ch._ (_blandly_). Allow me. How would _this_ do for the second
+line? "She had a collapsible cup." A good many people _do_ carry them. I
+have one myself. Is that all of your Ballad, Mr. Wheedler?
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_with great relief._) That _is_ all, Sir.
+
+     [_Censors withdraw, to consider the question._
+
+  _The Ch._ (_after consultation with colleagues_). We have carefully
+considered this song, and we are all reluctantly of opinion that we
+cannot, consistently with our duty, recommend the Council to license
+it--even with the alterations my colleagues and myself have gone
+somewhat out of our way to suggest. The whole subject is too dangerous
+for a hall in which young persons of both sexes are likely to be found
+assembled; and the absence of any distinct assertion that the young
+couple--Molly and--ah--the gentleman who narrates the experience--are
+betrothed, or that their attachment is, in any way, sanctioned by their
+parents or guardians, is quite fatal. If we have another Ballad of a
+similar character from the same quarter, Mr. Wheedler, I feel bound to
+warn you that we may possibly consider it necessary to advise that the
+poet's licence should be cancelled altogether.
+
+  _Mr. W._ I will take care to mention it to my client, Sir. I understand
+it is his intention to confine himself to writing Gaiety burlesques in
+future.
+
+  _The Ch._ A very laudable resolution! I hope he will keep it.
+     [_Scene closes in._
+
+
+It is hardly possible that any Music-hall Manager or vocalist,
+irreproachable as he may hitherto have considered himself, can have
+taken this glimpse into a not very remote futurity without symptoms of
+uneasiness, if not of positive dismay. He will reflect that the ballad
+of "Molly and I," however reprehensible it may appear in the fierce
+light of an L. C. C. Committee Room, is innocuous, and even moral,
+compared to the ditties in his own _r�pertoire_. How, then, can he hope,
+when his hour of trial strikes, to confront the ordeal with an unruffled
+shirt-front, or a collar that shall retain the inflexibility of
+conscious innocence? And he will wish then that he had confined himself
+to the effusions of a bard who could not be blamed by the most
+censorious moralist.
+
+Here, if he will only accept the warning in time, is his best safeguard.
+He has only to buy this little volume, and inform his inquisitors that
+the songs and business with which he proposes to entertain an ingenuous
+public are derived from the immaculate pages of Mr. Punch. Whereupon
+censure will be instantly disarmed and criticism give place to
+congratulation. It is just possible, to be sure, that this somewhat
+confident prediction smacks rather of the Poet than the Seer, and that
+even the entertainment supplied by Mr. Punch's Music Hall may, to the
+Purist's eye, present features as suggestive as a horrid vulgar clown,
+or as shocking as a butterfly, an insect notorious for its frivolity.
+But then, so might the "songs and business" of the performing canary, or
+the innocent sprightliness of the educated flea, with its superfluity of
+legs, all absolutely unclad. At all events, the compiler of this
+collection ventures to hope that, whether it is fortunate enough to find
+favour or not with Music-hall "artistes," literary critics, and London
+County Councilmen, it contains nothing particularly objectionable to the
+rest of the British Public. And very likely, even in this modest
+aspiration, he is over-sanguine, and his little joke will be taken
+seriously. Earnestness is so alarmingly on the increase in these days.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+    MODEL MUSIC HALL.
+
+    SONGS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE PATRIOTIC.]
+
+I.--THE PATRIOTIC
+
+
+This stirring ditty--so thoroughly sound and practical under all its
+sentiment--has been specially designed to harmonise with the recently
+altered tone of Music-hall audiences, in which a spirit of enlightened
+Radicalism is at last happily discernible. It is hoped that, both in
+rhyme and metre, the verses will satisfy the requirements of this most
+elegant form of composition. The song is intended to be shouted through
+music in the usual manner by a singer in evening dress, who should carry
+a small Union Jack carelessly thrust inside his waistcoat. The title is
+short but taking:--
+
+
+ON THE CHEAP!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    Of a Navy insufficient cowards croak, deah boys!
+    If our place among the nations we're to keep.
+    But with British beef, and beer, and hearts of oak, deah boys!--
+    (_With enthusiasm._) We can make a shift to do it--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    (_With a common-sense air_.) Let us keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
+    While Britannia is the boss upon the deep,
+    She can wollop an invader, when he comes in his Armada,
+    If she's let alone to do it--On the Cheap!
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    (_Affectionately._)
+    Johnny Bull is just as plucky as he _was_, deah boys!
+    (_With a knowing wink._) And he's wide awake--no error!--not asleep;
+    But he won't stump up for ironclads--becos, deah boys!
+    He don't see his way to get 'em--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    So keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
+    (_Gallantly._) And we'll chance what may happen on the deep!
+    For we can't be the losers if we save the cost o' cruisers,
+    And contentedly continue--On the Cheap!
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+    The British Isles are not the Conti-nong, deah boys!
+    (_Scornfully._) Where the Johnnies on defences spend a heap.
+    No! we're Britons, and we're game to jog along, deah boys!
+    (_With pathos._) In the old time-honoured fashion--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    (_Imploringly._) Ah! keep, deah boys! On the Cheap;
+    For the price we're asked to pay is pretty steep.
+    Let us all unite to dock it, keep the money in our pocket,
+    And we'll conquer or we'll perish--On the Cheap!
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+    If the Tories have the cheek to touch our purse, deah boys!
+    Their reward at the elections let 'em reap!
+    They will find a big Conservative reverse, deah boys!
+    If they can't defend the country--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    They must keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
+    Or the lot out of office we will sweep!
+    Bull gets rusty when you tax him, and his patriotic maxim
+    Is, "I'll trouble you to govern--On the Cheap!"
+
+_Fifth Verse_ (_this to be sung shrewdly_).
+
+    If the Gover'ment ain't mugs they'll take the tip, deah boys!
+    Just to look a bit ahead before they leap,
+    And instead of laying down an extry ship, deah boys!
+    They'll cut down the whole caboodle--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus_ (_with spirit and fervour_).
+
+    And keep, deah boys! On the Cheap!
+    For we ain't like a bloomin' lot o' sheep.
+    When we want to "parry bellum,"[A]
+                     [_Union Jack to be waved here._
+    You may bet yer boots we'll tell 'em!
+    But we'll have the "bellum" "parried"--On the Cheap!
+
+This song, if sung with any spirit, should, _Mr. Punch_ thinks, cause a
+positive _furore_ in any truly patriotic gathering, and possibly go some
+way towards influencing the decision of the country, and consequently
+the fate of the Empire, in the next General Elections. In the meantime
+it is at the service of any Champion Music Hall Comique who is capable
+of appreciating it.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[A] Music-hall Latinity--"_Para bellum_."
+
+
+
+
+II.--THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL.
+
+[Illustration: "--And the Post!"]
+
+
+In most respects, no doubt, the present example can boast no superiority
+to ditties in the same style now commanding the ear of the public. One
+merit, however, its author does claim for it. Though it deals with most
+of the burning questions of the hour, it can be sung anywhere with
+absolute security. This is due to a simple but ingenious method by which
+the political sentiment has been arranged on the reversible principle. A
+little alteration here and there will put the singer in close touch with
+an audience of almost any shade of politics. Should it happen that the
+title has been already anticipated, _Mr. Punch_ begs to explain that the
+remainder of this sparkling composition is entirely original; any
+similarity with previous works must be put down entirely to "literary
+coincidence." Whether the title is new or not, it is a very nice one,
+viz:--
+
+
+BETWEEN YOU AND ME--AND THE POST.
+
+(_To be sung in a raucous voice, and with a confidential air._)
+
+    I've dropped in to whisper some secrets I've heard.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    Picked up on the wing by a 'cute little bird.
+    We are gentlemen 'ere--so the caution's absurd,
+    Still, you'll please to remember that every word
+              Is between you and me and the Post!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the singer should dance_).
+
+      Between you and me and the Post! An 'int is sufficient at most.
+      I'd very much rather this didn't go farther,
+               than 'tween you and me and the Post!
+
+    At Lord Sorlsbury's table there's sech a to-do.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    When he first ketches sight of his dinner _menoo_,
+    And sees he's set down to good old Irish stoo--
+    Which he's sick of by this time--now, tell me, ain't _you_?
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+
+     _(This happy and pointed allusion to the Irish Question is sure
+     to provoke loud laughter from an audience of Radical
+     sympathies. For Unionists, the words_ "Lord Sorlsbury's" _can be
+     altered by our patent reversible method into "the_ G. O. M.'s,"
+     _without at all impairing the satire.) Chorus, as before._
+
+    The G. O. M.'s hiding a card up his sleeve.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    Any ground he has lost he is going to retrieve,
+    And what _his_ little game is, he'll let us perceive,
+    And he'll pip the whole lot of 'em, so I believe,
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (_The hit will be made quite as palpably for the other side by
+     substituting_ "Lord Sorlsbury's," _&c., at the beginning of the
+     first line, should the majority of the audience be found to
+     hold Conservative views._)
+
+    Little Randolph won't long be left out in the cold.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    If they'll let him inside the Conservative fold,
+    He has promised no longer he'll swagger and scold,
+    But to be a good boy, and to do as he's told,
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (_The mere mention of_ Lord Randolph's _name is sufficient to
+     ensure the success of any song._)
+
+    Joey Chamberlain's orchid's a bit overblown,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+
+     (_This is rather subtle, perhaps, but an M.-H. audience will
+     see a joke in it somewhere, and laugh._)
+
+    'Ow to square a round table I'm sure he has shown.
+
+     (_Same observation applies here._)
+
+    But of late he's been leaving his old friends alone,
+    And I fancy he's grinding an axe of his own,
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (_We now pass on to Topics of the Day, which we treat in a
+     light but trenchant fashion._)
+
+    On the noo County Councils they've too many nobs,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    For the swells stick together, and sneer at the mobs;
+    And it's always the rich man the poor one who robs.
+    We shall 'ave the old business--all jabber and jobs!
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (N.B.--_This verse should not be read to the L. C. C. who might
+     miss the fun of it._)
+
+    There's a new rule for ladies presented at Court,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    High necks are allowed, so no colds will be cort,
+    But I went to the droring-room lately, and thort
+    Some old wimmen had dressed quite as low as they _ort_!
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+    By fussy alarmists we're too much annoyed,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    If we don't want our neighbours to think we're afroid,
+                                               [_M.-H. rhyme._
+    Spending dibs on defence we had better avoid.
+    And give 'em instead to the poor unemployed.
+                                    [_M.-H. political economy._
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+    This style of perlitical singing ain't hard,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    As a "Mammoth Comique" on the bills I am starred,
+    And, so long as I'm called, and angcored, and hurrar'd,
+    I can rattle off rubbish like this by the yard,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+
+     [_Chorus, and dance off to sing the same song_--_with or
+     without alterations_--_in another place._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: A DEMOCRATIC DITTY.]
+
+III.--A DEMOCRATIC DITTY.
+
+
+The following example, although it gives a not wholly inadequate
+expression to what are understood to be the loftier aspirations of the
+most advanced and earnest section of the New Democracy, should not be
+attempted, as _yet_, before a West-End audience. In South or East
+London, the sentiment and philosophy of the song may possibly excite
+rapturous enthusiasm; in the West-End, though the tone is daily
+improving, they are not educated quite up to so exalted a level at
+present. Still, as an experiment in proselytism, it might be worth
+risking, even there. The title it bears is:--
+
+
+GIVEN AWAY--WITH A POUND OF TEA!
+
+VERSE I.--(_Introductory._)
+
+    Some Grocers have taken to keeping a stock
+    Of ornaments--such as a vase, or a clock--
+    With a ticket on each where the words you may see:
+    "To be given away--with a Pound of Tea!"
+
+_Chorus_ (_in waltz time_).
+
+                "Given away!"
+                That's what they say.
+    Gratis--a present it's offered you free.
+                Given away.
+                With nothing to pay,
+    "Given away--[_tenderly_]--with a Pound of Tea!"
+
+VERSE II.--(_Containing the moral reflection._)
+
+    Now, the sight of those tickets gave me an idear.
+    What it set me a-thinking you're going to 'ear:
+    I thought there were things that would possibly be
+    Better given away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--"Given away." So much as to say, &c.
+
+VERSE III.--(_This, as being rather personal than general in its
+application, may need some apology. It is really put in as a graceful
+concession to the taste of an average Music-hall audience, who like to
+be assured that the Artists who amuse them are as unfortunate as they
+are erratic in their domestic relations._)
+
+    Now, there's my old Missus who sits up at 'ome--
+    And when I sneak _up_-stairs my 'air she will comb,--
+    I don't think I'd call it bad business if _she_
+    Could be given away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--"Given away!" That's what they say, &c.
+                                            [_Mutatis mutandis._
+
+VERSE IV.--(_Flying at higher game. The social satire here is perhaps
+almost too good-natured, seeing what intolerable pests all Peers are to
+the truly Democratic mind. But we must walk before we can run.
+Good-humoured contempt will do very well, for the present._)
+
+    Fair Americans snap up the pick of our Lords.
+    It's a practice a sensible Briton applords.
+        [_This will check any groaning at the mention of Aristocrats._
+    Far from grudging our Dooks to the pretty Yan-kee,--
+    (_Magnanimously_) Why, we'd give 'em away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--Give 'em away! So we all say, &c.
+
+VERSE V.--(_More frankly Democratic still._)
+
+    To-wards a Republic we're getting on fast;
+    Many old Institootions are things of the past.
+    (_Philosophically_) Soon the Crown 'll go, too, as an a-noma-lee,
+    And be given away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--"Given away!" Some future day, &c.
+
+VERSE VI.--(_Which expresses the peaceful proclivities of the populace
+with equal eloquence and wisdom. A welcome contrast to the era when
+Britons had a bellicose and immoral belief in the possibility of being
+called upon to defend themselves at some time!_)
+
+    We've made up our minds--though the Jingoes may jor--
+    Under no provocation to drift into war!
+    So the best thing to do with our costly Na-vee
+    Is--Give each ship away, with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--Give 'em away, &c.
+
+VERSE VII.--(_We cannot well avoid some reference to the Irish Question
+in a Music-hall ditty, but observe the logical and statesmanlike method
+of treating it here. The argument--if crudely stated--is borrowed from
+some advanced by our foremost politicians._)
+
+    We've also discovered at last that it's crule
+    To deny the poor Irish their right to 'Ome Rule!
+    So to give 'em a Parlyment let us agree--
+    (_Rationally_) Or they may blow us up with a Pound of their "Tea"!
+
+        [_A euphemism which may possibly be remembered and understood._
+
+        _Chorus_--Give it away, &c.
+
+VERSE VIII. (_culminating in a glorious prophetic burst of the Coming
+Dawn_).
+
+    Iniquitous burdens and rates we'll relax:
+    For each "h" that's pronounced we will clap on a tax!
+                                          [_A very popular measure._
+    And a house in Belgraveyer, with furniture free,
+    Shall each Soshalist sit in, a taking his tea!
+
+  _Chorus, and dance off._--Given away! Ippipooray!
+      Gratis we'll get it for nothing and free!
+      Given away! Not a penny to pay!
+      Given away!--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+
+If this Democratic Dream does not appeal favourably to the imagination
+of the humblest citizen, the popular tone must have been misrepresented
+by many who claim to act as its chosen interpreters--a supposition _Mr.
+Punch_ must decline to entertain for a single moment.
+
+
+
+
+IV.--THE IDYLLIC.
+
+
+The following ballad will not be found above the heads of an average
+audience, while it is constructed to suit the capacities of almost any
+lady _artiste_.
+
+
+SO SHY!
+
+     _The singer should, if possible, be of mature age, and incline
+     to a comfortable embonpoint. As soon as the bell has given the
+     signal for the orchestra to attack the prelude, she will step
+     upon the stage with that air of being hung on wires, which
+     seems to come from a consciousness of being a favourite of the
+     public._
+
+    I'm a dynety little dysy of the dingle,
+         [_Self-praise is a great recommendation--in Music-hall songs_.
+      So retiring and so timid and so coy.
+    If you ask me why so long I have lived single,
+      I will tell you--'tis because I am so shoy.
+
+     [_Note the manner in which the rhyme is adapted to meet
+     Arcadian peculiarities of pronunciation._
+
+_Spoken_--Yes, I am--really, though you wouldn't think it to look at me,
+would you? But, for all that,--
+
+  _Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle,
+            Going off into a giggle,
+          And as red as any peony I blush;
+            Then turn paler than a lily,
+            For I'm such a little silly,
+          That I'm always in a flutter or a flush!
+
+     [_After each chorus an elaborate step-dance, expressive of
+     shrinking maidenly modesty._
+
+    I've a cottage far away from other houses,
+      Which the nybours hardly ever come anoigh;
+    When they do, I run and hoide among the rouses,
+      For I _cannot_ cure myself of being shoy.
+
+_Spoken_--A great girl like me, too! But there, it's no use trying,
+for--
+
+        _Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    Well, the other day I felt my fice was crimson,
+      Though I stood and fixed my gyze upon the skoy,
+    For at the gyte was sorcy Chorley Simpson,
+      And the sight of him's enough to turn me shoy.
+
+_Spoken_--It's singular, but Chorley always 'as that effect on me.
+
+        _Chorus_--When he speaks to me, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    Then said Chorley: "My pursuit there's no evyding.
+      Now I've caught you, I insist on a reploy.
+    Do you love me? Tell me truly, little myding!"
+      But how _is_ a girl to answer when she's shoy?
+
+_Spoken_--For even if the conversation happens to be about nothing
+particular, it's just the same to me.
+
+        _Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.
+
+[Illustration: THE IDYLLIC.]
+
+    There we stood among the loilac and syringas,
+      More sweet than any Ess. Bouquet you boy;
+                                      [_Arcadian for "buy."_
+    And Chorley kept on squeezing of my fingers,
+      And I couldn't tell him not to, being shoy.
+
+_Spoken_--For, as I told you before,--
+
+        _Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    Soon my slender wyste he ventured on embrycing,
+      While I only heaved a gentle little soy;
+    Though a scream I would have liked to rise my vice in,
+      It's so difficult to scream when you are shoy!
+
+_Spoken_--People have such different ways of listening to proposals. As
+for me,--
+
+        _Chorus_--When they talk of love, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    So very soon to Church we shall be gowing,
+      While the bells ring out a merry peal of jy.
+    If obedience you do not hear me vowing,
+      It will only be because I am so shy.
+
+     [_We have brought the rhyme off legitimately at last, it will
+     be observed._
+
+_Spoken_--Yes, and when I'm passing down the oil, on Chorley's arm, with
+everybody looking at me,--
+
+  _Chorus_--I am certain I shall wriggle,
+            And go off into a giggle,
+          And as red as any peony I'll blush.
+            Going through the marriage service
+            Will be sure to mike me nervous,
+                        [_Note the freedom of the rhyme._
+          And to put me in a flutter and a flush!
+
+
+
+
+V.--THE AMATORY EPISODIC.
+
+
+The history of a singer's latest love--whether fortunate or
+otherwise--will always command the interest and attention of a
+Music-hall audience. Our example, which is founded upon the very best
+precedents, derives an additional piquancy from the social position of
+the beloved object. Cultivated readers are requested not to shudder at
+the rhymes. _Mr. Punch's_ Poet does them deliberately and in cold blood,
+being convinced that without these somewhat daring concords, no ditty
+would have the slightest chance of satisfying the great ear of the
+Music-hall public.
+
+The title of the song is:--
+
+
+MASHED BY A MARCHIONESS.
+
+     _The singer should come on correctly and tastefully attired in
+     a suit of loud dittoes, a startling tie, and a white hat_--_the
+     orthodox costume (on the Music-hall stage) of a middle-class
+     swain suffering from love-sickness. The air should be of the
+     conventional jog-trot and jingle order, chastened by a
+     sentimental melancholy._
+
+    I've lately gone and lost my 'art--and where you'll never guess--
+    I'm regularly mashed upon a lovely Marchioness!
+    'Twas at a Fancy Fair we met, inside the Albert 'All;
+    So affable she smiled at me as I came near her stall!
+
+  _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia is stiff in behaviour!
+              She'd an Uncle an Earl, and a Dook for her Pa--
+              Still there was no starchiness in that fair Marchioness,
+              As she stood at her stall in the Fancy Bazaar!
+
+    At titles and distinctions once I'd ignorantly scoff,
+    As if no bond could be betwixt the tradesman and the toff!
+    I held with those who'd do away with difference in ranks--
+    But that was all before I met the Marchioness of Manx!
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    A home was being started by some kind aristo-cr�ts,
+    For orphan kittens, born of poor, but well-connected cats;
+    And of the swells who planned a _F�te_ this object to assist,
+    The Marchioness of Manx's name stood foremost on the list.
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    I never saw a smarter hand at serving in a shop,
+    For every likely customer she caught upon the 'op!
+    And from the form her ladyship displayed at that Bazaar,
+    (_With enthusiasm_)--You might have took your oath she'd
+        been brought up behind a bar!
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    In vain I tried to kid her that my purse had been forgot,
+    She spotted me in 'alf a jiff, and chaffed me precious hot!
+    A sov. for one regaliar she gammoned me to spend.
+    "You really can't refuse," she said, "I've bitten off the end!"
+
+[Illustration: THE AMATORY EPISODIC.]
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    "Do buy my crewel-work," she urged, "it goes across a chair,
+    You'll find it come in useful, as I see you 'ile your 'air!"
+    So I 'anded over thirty bob, though not a coiny bloke.
+    I couldn't tell a Marchioness how nearly I was broke!
+
+_Spoken_--Though I _did_ take the liberty of saying: "Make it fifteen
+bob, my lady!" But she said, with such a fascinating look--I can see it
+yet!--"Oh, I'm sure _you_'re not a 'aggling kind of a man," she says,
+"you haven't the face for it. And think of all them pore fatherless
+kittings," she says; "think what thirty bob means to _them_!" says she,
+glancing up so pitiful and tender under her long eyelashes at me. Ah,
+the Radicals may talk as they _like_, but----
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    A raffle was the next concern I put my rhino in:
+    The prize a talking parrot, which I didn't want to win.
+    Then her sister, Lady Tabby, shewed a painted milking stool,
+    And I bought it--though it's not a thing I sit on as a rule.
+
+_Spoken_--Not but what it was a handsome article in its way, too,--had a
+snow-scene with a sunset done in oil on it. "It will look lovely in your
+chambers," says the Marchioness; "it was ever so much admired at
+Catterwall Castle!" It didn't look so bad in my three-pair back, I must
+say, though unfortunately the sunset came off on me the very first time
+I happened to set down on it. Still think of the condescension of
+painting such a thing at all!
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    The Marquis kept a-fidgeting and frowning at his wife,
+    For she talked to me as free as if she'd known me all my life!
+    I felt that I was in the swim, so wasn't over-awed,
+    But 'ung about and spent my cash as lavish as a lord!
+
+_Spoken_--It was worth all the money, I can tell you, to be chatting
+there across the counter with a real live Marchioness for as long as
+ever my funds would 'old out. They'd have held out much longer, only the
+Marchioness made it a rule never to give change--she couldn't break it,
+she said, not even for _me_. I wish I could give you an idea of how she
+smiled as she made that remark; for the fact is, when an aristocrat
+_does_ unbend--well,----
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    Next time I meet the Marchioness a-riding in the Row,
+    I'll ketch her eye and raise my 'at, and up to her I'll go,
+    (_With sentiment_)--And tell her next my 'art I keep the stump
+        of that cigar
+    She sold me on the 'appy day we 'ad at her Bazaar!
+
+_Spoken_--And she'll be pleased to see me again, _I_ know! She's not one
+of your stuck-up sort; don't you make no mistake about it, the
+aristocracy ain't 'alf as bloated as people imagine who don't _know_
+'em. Whenever I hear parties running 'em down, I always say:
+
+         _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia is stiff in behaviour, &c.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE CHIVALROUS.]
+
+VI.--THE CHIVALROUS.
+
+
+     _The singer (who should be a large man, in evening dress, with
+     a crumpled shirt-front) will come on the stage with a bearing
+     intended to convey at first sight that he is a devoted admirer
+     of the fair sex. After removing his crush-hat in an easy
+     manner, and winking airily at the orchestra, he will begin_:--
+
+
+WHY SHOULDN'T THE DARLINGS?
+
+    There's enthusiasm brimming in the breasts of all the women,
+      And they're calling for enfranchisement with clamour eloquent:
+    When some parties in a huff rage at the plea for Female Suffrage,
+      I invariably floor them with a simple argu-ment.
+
+_Chorus_ (_to be rendered with a winning persuasiveness_).
+
+        Why _shouldn't_ the darlings have votes? de-ar things!
+        On politics each of 'em dotes, de-ar things!
+        (_Pathetically._) Oh it _does_ seem so hard
+              They should all be debarred,
+        'Cause they happen to wear petticoats, de-ar things!
+
+    Nature all the hens to crow meant, I could prove it in a moment,
+      Though they've selfishly been silenced by the cockadoodle-doos.
+    But no man of sense afraid is of enfranchising the Ladies.
+      (_Magnanimously._) Let 'em put their pretty fingers into any
+           pie they choose!
+      _Spoken_--For----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    They would cease to care for dresses, if we made them elec-tresses,
+      No more time they'd spend on needlework, nor at pianos strum;
+    Every dainty little Dorcas would be sitting on a Caucus,
+      Busy wire-pulling to produce the New Millenni-um!
+      _Spoken_--Oh!----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    In the House we'll see them sitting soon, it will be only fitting
+      They should have an opportunity their country's laws to frame.
+    And the Ladies' legislation will be sure to cause sensation,
+      For they'll do away with everything that seems to them a shame!
+      _Spoken_--Then----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    They will promptly clap a stopper on whate'er they deem improper,
+      Put an end to vaccination, landed property, and pubs;
+    And they'll fine Tom, Dick, and Harry, if they don't look
+           sharp and marry,
+      And for Kindergartens confiscate those nasty horrid Clubs!
+      _Spoken_--Ah!----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    They'll declare it's quite immoral to engage in foreign quarrel,
+      And that Britons never never will be warriors any more!
+    When our forces are abolished, and defences all demolished,
+      They will turn upon the Jingo tack, and want to go to war!
+      _Spoken_--So----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    (_With a grieved air._) Yet there's some who'd close such
+                 vistars to their poor down-trodden sistars,
+      And persuade 'em, if they're offered votes, politely to refuse!
+    Say they do not care about 'em, and would rather be without 'em--
+      Oh, I haven't common patience with such narrer-minded views!
+      _Spoken_--No!----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    And it's females--that's the puzzle!--who petition for the muzzle,
+      Which I call it poor and paltry, and I think you'll say so too.
+    They are not in any danger. Let 'em drop the dog-in-manger!
+      If they don't require the vote themselves, there's other Ladies do!
+      _Spoken_--And----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+     [_Here the singer will gradually retreat backwards to the rear
+     of the stage, open his crush-hat, and extend it in an attitude
+     of triumph as the curtain descends._
+
+
+
+
+VII.--THE FRANKLY CANAILLE.
+
+
+Any ditty which accurately reflects the habits and amusements of the
+people is a valuable human document--a fact that probably accounts for
+the welcome which songs in the following style invariably receive from
+Music-hall audiences generally. If--_Mr. Punch_ presumes--they conceived
+such pictures of their manner of spending a holiday to be unjustly or
+incorrectly drawn in any way, they would protest strongly against being
+so grossly misrepresented. As they do nothing of the sort, no apology
+can be needed for the following effusion, which several ladies now
+adorning the Music-hall stage could be trusted to render with immense
+effect. The singer should be young and charming, and attired as simply
+as possible. Simplicity of attire imparts additional piquancy to the
+words:--
+
+
+THE POOR OLD 'ORSE.
+
+    We 'ad a little outing larst Sunday arternoon;
+    And sech a jolly lark it was, I shan't forget it soon!
+    We borrered an excursion van to take us down to Kew,
+    And--oh, we did enjoy ourselves! I don't mind telling _you._
+
+     [_This to the Chef d'Orchestre, who will assume a polite
+     interest._
+
+     [_Here a little spoken interlude is customary._ Mr. P. _does not
+     venture to do more than indicate this by a synopsis, the
+     details can be filled in according to the taste and fancy of_
+     _the fair artiste:--"Yes, we did 'ave a time, I can assure
+     yer." The party: "Me and_ Jimmy 'Opkins;" _old_ "Pa Plapper."
+     _Asked because he lent the van. The meanness of his subsequent
+     conduct._ "Aunt Snapper;" _her imposing appearance in her
+     "cawfy-coloured front."_ Bill Blazer; _his "girl," and his
+     accordion._ Mrs. Addick _(of the fried-fish emporium round the
+     corner); her gentility--"Never seen out of her mittens, and
+     always the lady, no matter how much she may have taken." From
+     this work round by an easy transition to--_
+
+  _The Chorus_--For we _'ad_ to stop o' course,
+                Jest to bait the bloomin' 'orse,
+                So we'd pots of ale and porter
+                (Or a drop o' something shorter),
+                While he drunk his pail o' water,
+                He was sech a whale on water!
+                That more water than he oughter,
+                More water than he oughter,
+                            'Ad the poor old 'orse!
+
+_Second Stanza._
+
+    That 'orse he was a rum 'un--a queer old quadru-p�d,
+    At every public-'ouse he passed he'd cock his artful 'ed!
+    Sez I: "If he goes on like this, we shan't see Kew to-night!"
+    Jim 'Opkins winks his eye, and sez--"We'll git along all right!"
+
+        _Chorus_--Though we 'ave to stop of course,--&c., &c.
+                            [_With slight textual modifications._
+
+_Third Stanza._
+
+    At Kinsington we 'alted, 'Ammersmith, and Turnham Green,
+    The 'orse 'ad sech a thust on him, its like was never seen!
+    With every 'arf a mile or so, that animal got blown:
+    And we was far too well brought-up to let 'im drink alone!
+
+        _Chorus_--As we 'ad to stop, o' course, &c.
+
+_Fourth Stanza._
+
+    We stopped again at Chiswick, till at last we got to Kew,
+    But when we reached the Gardings--well, there was a fine to-do!
+    The Keeper, in his gold-laced tile, was shutting-to the gate,
+    Sez he: "There's no admittance now--you're just arrived too late!"
+
+     [_Synopsis of spoken Interlude: Spirited passage-at-arms
+     between_ Mr. Wm. Blazer _and the_ Keeper; _singular action of_ Pa
+     Plapper; _"I want to see yer Pagoder--bring out yer old Pagoder
+     as you're so proud on!"_ Mrs. Addick's _disappointment at not
+     being able to see the "Intemperate Plants," and the "Pitcher
+     Shrub," once more. Her subsidence in tears, on the floor of the
+     van._ Keeper _concludes the dialogue by inquiring why the party
+     did not arrive sooner. An' we sez_, "Well, it was like this,
+     ole cock robin--d'yer see?"
+
+        _Chorus_--We've 'ad to stop, o' course, &c.
+
+_Fifth Stanza._
+
+    "Don't fret," I sez, "about it, for they ain't got much to see
+    Inside their precious Gardings--so let's go and 'ave some tea!
+    A cup I seem to fancy now--I feel that faint and limp--
+    With a slice of bread-and-butter, and some creases, and a s'rimp!"
+
+     [_Description of the tea_:--"_And the s'rimps--well, I don't_
+     _want to say anything against the s'rimps--but it did strike me
+     they were feelin' the 'eat a little--s'rimps are liable to it,
+     and you can't prevent 'em." After tea. The only tune_ Mr. Blazer
+     _could play on his accordion. Tragic end of that instrument. How
+     the party had a "little more lush." Scandalous behaviour of_
+     "Bill Blazer's _girl." The company consume what will be
+     elegantly referred to as "a bit o' booze."_ Aunt Snapper _"gets
+     the 'ump." The outrage to her front. The proposal to
+     start--whereupon,_ "Mrs. Addick, _who was a'-settin' on the
+     geraniums in the winder, smilin' at her boots, which she'd just
+     took off because she said they stopped her breathing,"
+     protested that there was no hurry, considering that_--
+
+        _Chorus, as before_--We've got to stop, o' course, &c.
+
+_Sixth Stanza._
+
+    But when the van was ordered, we found--what _do_ yer think?
+
+     [_To the_ Chef d'Orchestre, _who will affect complete ignorance._
+
+    That miserable 'orse 'ad been an' took too much to drink!
+    He kep' a reeling round us, like a circus worked by steam,
+    And, 'stead o' keeping singular, he'd turned into a team!
+
+     [_Disgust of the party:_ Pa Plapper _proposes to go back to the
+     inn for more refreshment, urging--_
+
+  _Chorus_--We must wait awhile o' course,
+            Till they've sobered down the 'orse.
+            Just another pot o' porter
+            Or a drop o' something shorter,
+            While our good landlady's daughter
+            Takes him out some soda-warter.
+            For he's 'ad more than he oughter,
+            He's 'ad more than he oughter,
+                          'As the poor old 'orse!
+
+_Seventh Stanza._
+
+    So, when they brought the 'orse round, we started on our way:
+    'Twas 'orful 'ow the animal from side to side would sway!
+    Young 'Opkins took the reins, but soon in slumber he was sunk--
+    (_Indignantly._) When a interfering Copper ran us in for being drunk!
+
+     [_Attitude of various members of the party. Unwarrantable
+     proceeding on the part of the_ Constable. _Remonstrance by_ Pa
+     Plapper _and the company generally in_--
+
+  _Chorus_--Why, can't yer shee? o' coursh
+            Tishn't us--it ish the 'orsh!
+            He's a whale at swilling water,
+            We've 'ad only ale and porter,
+            Or a drop o' something shorter.
+            You le'mme go, you shnorter!
+            Don' you tush me till you oughter!
+            Jus' look 'ere--to cut it shorter--
+                          Take the poor old 'orsh!
+
+     [_General adjournment to the Police-station. Interview with the_
+     Magistrate _on the following morning._ Mr. Hopkins _called upon to
+     state his defence, replies in_--
+
+  _Chorus_--Why, your wushup sees, o' course,
+            It was all the bloomin' 'orse!
+            He _would_ 'ave a pail o' water
+            Every 'arf a mile (or quarter),
+            Which is what he didn't oughter!
+            He shall stick to ale or porter,
+            With a drop o' something shorter,
+            I'm my family's supporter--
+                          Fine the poor old 'orse!
+
+     [_The_ Magistrate's _view of the case. Concluding remark that,
+     notwithstanding the success of the excursion, as a whole--it
+     will be some time before the singer consents to go upon any
+     excursion with a horse of such bibulous tendencies as those of
+     the quadruped they drove to Kew._
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE DRAMATIC SCENA.]
+
+VIII.--THE DRAMATIC SCENA.
+
+
+This is always a popular form of entertainment, demanding, as it does,
+even more dramatic than vocal ability on the part of the artist. A song
+of this kind is nothing if not severely moral, an frequently depicts the
+downward career of an incipient drunkard with all the lurid logic of a
+Temperance Tract. _Mr. Punch_, however, is inclined to think that the
+lesson would be even more appreciated and taken to heart by the
+audience, if a slightly different line were adopted such as he has
+endeavoured to indicate in the following example:--
+
+
+THE DANGER OF MIXED DRINKS.
+
+     _The singer should have a great command of facial expression,
+     which he will find greatly facilitated by employing (as indeed
+     is the usual custom) coloured limelight at the wings._
+
+_First Verse (to be sung under pure white light)._
+
+    He (_these awful examples are usually, and quite properly,
+       anonymous_) was once as nice a fellow as you could desire
+       to meet,
+    Partial to a pint of porter, always took his spirits neat;
+    Long ago a careful mother's cautions trained her son to shrink
+    From the meretricious sparkle of an a�rated drink.
+
+
+_Refrain (showing the virtuous youth resisting temptation. N.B. The
+refrain is intended to be spoken through music._ NOT _sung_.)
+
+        Here's a pub that's handy.
+          Liquor up with you?
+        Thimbleful of brandy?
+          Don't mind if I do.
+        Soda-water? No, Sir.
+          Never touch the stuff.
+        Promised mother--so, Sir.
+                         (_With an upward glance._)
+          'Tisn't good enough!
+
+_Second Verse._ (_Primrose light for this._)
+
+    Ah, how little we suspected, as we saw him in his bloom,
+    What a demon dogged his footsteps, luring to an awful doom!
+    Vain his mother's fond monitions; soon a friend, with fiendish laugh,
+    Tempts him to a quiet tea-garden, plies him there with shandy-gaff!
+
+_Refrain_ (_illustrating the first false step_).
+
+        Why, it's just the mixture
+          I so long have sought!
+        Here I'll be a fixture
+          Till I've drunk the quart!
+        Just the stuff to suit yer.
+          Waiter, do you hear?
+        Make it, for the future,
+          _Three_ parts ginger-beer!
+
+_Third Verse_ (_requiring violet-tinted slide_).
+
+    By-and-by, the ale discarding, ginger-beer he craves alone.
+    Undiluted he procures it, buys it bottled up in stone.
+
+(_The earthenware bottles are said by connoisseurs to contain liquor of
+superior strength and quality._)
+
+    From his lips the foam he brushes--crimson overspreads his brow.
+    To his brain the ginger's mounting! Could his mother see him now!
+
+_Refrain_ (_depicting the horrors of a solitary debauch poisoned by
+remorse_).
+
+        Shall I have another?
+          Only ginger-pop!
+        (_Wildly._) Ah! I promised mother
+          Not to touch a drop!
+        Far too much I'm tempted.
+          (_Recklessly._) Let me drink my fill!
+        That's the fifth I've emptied--
+          Oh, I feel so ill!
+
+        [_Here the singer will stagger about the boards._
+
+_Fourth Verse._ (_Turn on lurid crimson ray for this._)
+
+    Next with drinks they style "teetotal" he his manhood must degrade;
+    Swilling effervescent syrups--"ice-cream-soda," "raspberry-ade,"
+    Koumiss tempts his jaded palate--payment he's obliged to bilk--
+    Then, reduced to destitution, finds forgetfulness in--milk!
+
+_Refrain_ (_indicating rapid moral deterioration_).
+
+        What's that on the railings?
+                        [_Point dramatically at imaginary area._
+          Milk--and in a can!
+        Though I have my failings,
+          I'm an honest man.
+                            [_Spark of expiring rectitude here._
+        I can _not_ resist it.      [_Pantomime of opening can._
+          That celestial blue!
+        Has the milkman missed it?          [_Melodramatically._
+          _I_'ll be missing too!
+
+_Fifth Verse_ (_in pale blue light_).
+
+    Milk begets a taste for water, so comparatively cheap,
+    Every casual pump supplies him, gratis, with potations deep;
+    He at every drinking-fountain pounces on the pewter cup,
+    Conscious of becoming bloated, powerless to give it up!
+
+_Refrain_ (_illustrative of utter loss of self-respect_).
+
+        "Find one straight before me?"
+          Bobby, you're a trump!
+        Faintness stealing o'er me--
+          Ha--at last--a pump!
+        If that little maid 'll
+          Just make room for one,
+        I could grab the ladle
+          After she has done.
+
+     _The last verse is the culminating point of this moral
+     drama:--The miserable wretch has reached the last stage. He
+     shuts himself up in his cheerless abode, and there, in shameful
+     secrecy, consumes the element for which he is powerless to
+     pay--the inevitable Nemesis following._
+
+_Sixth Verse_ (_All lights down in front. Ghastly green light at
+wings_).
+
+    Up his sordid stairs in secret to the cistern now he steals,
+    Where, amidst organic matter, gambol microscopic eels;
+    Tremblingly he turns the tap on--not a trickle greets the trough!
+    For the stony-hearted turncock's gone and cut his water off!
+
+_Refrain_ (_in which the profligate is supposed to demand an explanation
+from the turncock, with a terrible d�no�ment_).
+
+        "Rate a quarter owing,
+          Comp'ny stopped supply."
+        "Set the stream a-flowing,
+          Demon--or you die!"
+        "Mercy!--ah! you've choked me!"
+                       [_In hoarse, strangled voice as the turncock._
+        "_Will_ you turn the plug?"          [_Savagely as the hero._
+          "No!"                              [_Faintly, as turncock._
+
+     [_Business of flinging a corpse on stage, and regarding it
+     terror-stricken. A long pause; then, in a whisper,_--
+
+                                "The fool provoked me!
+    (_With a maniac laugh._) Horror! I'm a Thug!"
+
+     [_Here the artist will die, mad, in frightful agony, and rise
+     to bow his acknowledgments._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE DUETTISTS.]
+
+IX.--THE DUETTISTS.
+
+
+The "Duet and Dance" form so important a feature in Music-hall
+entertainments, that they could hardly, with any propriety, be neglected
+in a model compilation such as _Mr. Punch's_, and it is possible that he
+may offer more than one example of this blameless diversion. For some
+reason or other, the habit of singing in pairs would seem to induce a
+pessimistic tone of mind in most Music-hall _artistes_, and--why, _Mr.
+Punch_ does not pretend to say--this cynicism is always more marked when
+the performers are of the softer sex. Our present study is intended to
+fulfil the requirements of the most confirmed female sceptic, and,
+though the Message of the Music Halls may have been given worthier and
+fuller expression by pens more practised in such compositions, _Mr.
+Punch_ is still modestly confident that this ditty, with all its
+shortcomings, can be sung in any Music Hall in the Metropolis without
+exciting any sentiment other than entire approval of the teaching it
+conveys. One drawback, indeed, it has, but that concerns the performers
+alone. For the sake of affording contrast and relief, it was thought
+expedient that one of the fair duettists should profess an optimism
+which may--perhaps must--tend to impair her popularity. A conscientious
+_artiste_ may legitimately object, for the sake of her professional
+reputation, to present herself in so humiliating a character as that of
+an _ing�nue_, and a female "Juggins"; and it does seem as if the
+Cynical Sister must inevitably monopolise the sympathies of an
+enlightened audience. However, this difficulty is less formidable than
+it appears; it should be easy for the Unsophisticated Sister to convey a
+subtle suggestion here and there, possibly in the incidental dance
+between the verses, that she is not really inferior to her partner in
+smartness and knowledge of the world. But perhaps it would be the
+fairest arrangement if the Sisters could agree to alternate so
+ungrateful a _r�le._
+
+
+RHINO!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+  _First Sister_ (_placing three of the fingers of her left hand
+on her heart, and extending her right arm in timid appeal_).
+
+    Dear sister, of late I'm beginning to doubt
+      If the world is as black as they paint it.
+    It mayn't be as bad as some try to make out----
+
+  _Second Sister_ (_with an elaborate mock curtsy._)
+    That _is_ a discovery! _Mayn't_ it?
+
+  _First S._ (_abashed_).
+    I'm sure there are sev'ral who aren't a bad lot,
+    And some sort of principle seem to have got,
+    For they act on the square----
+
+  _Second S._                    Don't you talk tommy-rot!
+    It's done for advertisement, _ain't_ it?
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _Second S._ Why, there's nobody at bottom any better than the rest!
+
+  _First S._    Are you sure of it?
+
+  _Second S._                    I'm telling you, and _I_ know,
+              The principle they act upon's whatever pays 'em best.
+                And the only real religion now is--Rhino!
+
+     [_The last word must be rendered with full metallic effect. A
+     step-dance, expressive of conviction on one part and incipient
+     wavering on the other, should be performed between the verses._
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+  _First S._ (_returning, shaken, to the charge_).
+             Some _un_married men lead respectable lives.
+
+  _Second S._ (_decisively_). Well, I've never happened to meet them!
+
+  _First S._ There are husbands who're always polite to their wives.
+
+  _Second S._ Of course--if their better halves beat them!
+
+  _First S._ Some tradesmen have consciences, so I've heard said;
+             Their provisions are never adulterat�d,
+             But they treat all their customers fairly instead.
+
+  _Second S._ 'Cause they don't find it answer to cheat them!
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _First S._  {What?
+              {
+  _Second S._ {No,--They're none of 'em at bottom any better
+          than the rest.
+
+  _Second S._         I'm speaking from experience, and _I_ know.
+             If you could put a window-pane in everybody's breast
+                   You'd see on all the hearts was written--"Rhino!"
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+  _First S._ There are girls you can't tempt with a title or gold.
+
+  _Second S._ There may be--but I've never seen one.
+
+  _First S._ Some much prefer love in a cottage, I'm told.
+
+  _Second S._ (_putting her arms a-kimbo_).
+              If you swallow _that_, you're a green one!
+              They'll stick to their lover so long as he's cash,
+              When it's gone, they look out for a wealthier mash.
+              A girl on the gush talks unpractical trash--
+                When it comes to the point, she's a keen one!
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _First S._ Then, are none of us at bottom any better than the rest!
+
+  _Second S._ (_cheerfully_). Not a bit; I am a girl myself and _I_ know.
+
+  _First S._ You'd surely never give your hand to someone you detest?
+
+  _Second S._ Why _rather_--if he's rolling in the Rhino!
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+  _First S._ Philanthropists give up their lives to the poor.
+
+  _Second S._ It's chiefly with tracts they present them.
+
+  _First S._ Still, some self-denial I'm sure they endure?
+
+  _Second S._ It's their hobby, and seems to content them.
+
+  _First S._ But don't they go into those horrible slums?
+
+  _Second S._ Sometimes--with a flourish of trumpets and drums.
+
+  _First S._ I've heard they've collected magnificent sums.
+
+  _Second S._ And nobody knows how they've spent them!
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _Second S._ Oh, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest!
+                They are only bigger hypocrites, as _I_ know;
+              They've famous opportunities for feathering their nest,
+                When so many fools are ready with the Rhino!
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+  _First S._ Our Statesmen are prompted by duty alone.
+
+  _Second S._ (_compassionately_). Whoever's been gammoning _you_ so?
+
+  _First S._ They wouldn't seek office for ends of their own?
+
+  _Second S._ What else would induce 'em to do so?
+
+  _First S._ But Time, Health, and Money they all sacrifice.
+
+  _Second S._ I'd do it myself at a quarter the price.
+              There's pickings for all, and they needn't ask twice,
+                For they're able to put on the screw so!
+
+_Refrain_ (_together_).
+
+    No, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest!
+      They may kid to their constituents--but _I_ know;
+    Whatever lofty sentiments their speeches may suggest,
+      They regulate their actions by the Rhino!
+
+     [_Here the pair will perform a final step-dance, indicative of
+     enlightened scepticism, and skip off in an effusion of sisterly
+     sympathy, amidst enthusiastic applause._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: DISINTERESTED PASSION.]
+
+X.--DISINTERESTED PASSION.
+
+
+When a Music-hall singer does not treat of the tender passion in a
+rakish and knowing spirit, he is apt to exhibit an unworldliness truly
+ideal in its noble indifference to all social distinctions. So amiable a
+tendency deserves encouragement, and _Mr. Punch_ has much pleasure in
+offering the following little idyl to the notice of any Mammoth Comique
+who may happen to be in a sentimental mood. It is supposed to be sung by
+a scion of the nobility, and the _artiste_ will accordingly present
+himself in a brown "billy-cock" hat, a long grey frock-coat,
+fawn-coloured trousers, white "spats," and primrose, or green,
+gloves--the recognised attire of a Music-hall aristocrat. A
+powerful,--though not necessarily tuneful,--voice is desirable for the
+adequate rendering of this ditty; any words it is inconvenient to sing,
+can always be spoken.
+
+
+ONLY A LITTLE PLEBEIAN!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    When first I met my Mary Ann, she stood behind a barrow--
+      A bower of enchantment spread with many a dainty snack!
+    And, as I gazed, I felt my heart transfixed with Cupid's arrow,
+      For she opened all her oysters with so fairylike a knack.
+
+_Refrain_ (_throaty, but tender_).
+
+        She's only a little Plebeian!
+          And I'm a Patrician swell!
+        But she's as sweet as Aurora, and how I adore her,
+          No eloquence ever can tell!
+        Only a fried-fish vend-ar!
+          Selling her saucers of whilks,
+                       [_Almost defiant stress on the word "whilks."_
+        But, for me, she's as slend-ar--far more true and tend-ar,
+          Than if she wore satins and silks!
+
+     [_The grammar of the last two lines is shaky, but the
+     Lion-Comique must try to put up with that, and, after all, does
+     sincere emotion ever stop to think about grammar? If it does,
+     Music-hall audiences don't--which is the main point._
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    I longed before her little feet to grovel in the gutter:
+      I vowed, unless I won her as a wife, 'twould drive me mad!
+    Until at last a shy consent I coaxed her lips to utter,
+      For she dallied with her Anglo-Dutch, and whispered, "Speak to Dad!"
+
+        _Refrain_--For she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+    I called upon her sire, and found him lowly born, but brawny,
+      A noble type, when sober, of the British artisan;
+    I grasped his honest hand, and didn't mind its being horny:
+      "Behold!" I cried, "a suitor for your daughter, Mary Ann!"
+
+        _Refrain_--Though she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+    "You ask me, gov'nor, to resign," said he, "my only treasure,
+      And so a toff her fickle heart away from me has won!"
+    He turned to mask his manly woe behind a pewter measure--
+      Then, breathing blessings through the beer, he said; "All
+              right, my son!
+
+        _Refrain_--If she's only a little Plebeian,
+                     And you're a Patrician swell,"--&c.
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+     (_The author flatters himself that, in quiet sentiment and
+     homely pathos he has seldom done anything finer than the two
+     succeeding stanzas._)
+
+    Next I sought my noble father in his old ancestral castle,
+      And at his gouty foot my love's fond offering I laid--
+    A simple gift of shellfish, in a neat brown-paper parcel!
+      "Ah, Sir!" I cried, "if you could know, you'd love my little maid!"
+
+        _Refrain_--True, she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Sixth Verse._
+
+    Beneath his shaggy eyebrows soon I saw a tear-drop twinkle;
+      That artless present overcame his stubborn Norman pride!
+    And when I made him taste a whilk, and try a periwinkle,
+      His last objections vanished--so she's soon to be my bride!
+
+        _Refrain_--Ah! she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Seventh Verse._
+
+    Now heraldry's a science that I haven't studied much in,
+      But I mean to ask the College--if it's not against their rules--
+    That three periwinkles proper may be quartered on our 'scutcheon,
+      With a whilk regardant, rampant, on an oyster-knife, all gules!
+
+        _Refrain_--As she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+This little ditty, which has the true, unmistakable ring about it, and
+will, _Mr. Punch_ believes, touch the hearts of any Music-hall audience,
+is entirely at the service of any talented _artiste_ who will undertake
+to fit it with an appropriate melody, and sing it in a spirit of
+becoming seriousness.
+
+
+
+
+XI.--THE PANEGYRIC PATTER.
+
+
+This ditty is designed to give some expression to the passionate
+enthusiasm for nature which is occasionally observable in the Music-hall
+songstress. The young lady who sings these verses will of course appear
+in appropriate costume; viz., a large white hat and feathers, a crimson
+sunshade, a pink frock, high-heeled sand-shoes, and a liberal extent of
+black silk stockings. A phonetic spelling has been adopted where
+necessary to bring out the rhyme, for the convenience of the reader
+only, as the singer will instinctively give the vowel-sounds the
+pronunciation intended by the author.
+
+
+THE JOYS OF THE SEA-SIDE.
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    Oh, I love to sit a-gyzing on the boundless blue horizing,
+      When the scorching sun is blyzing down on sands, and ships, and sea!
+    And to watch the busy figgers of the happy little diggers,
+      Or to listen to the niggers, when they choose to come to me!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the singer should sway in waltz-time_).
+
+        For I'm offully fond of the _Sea_!-side!
+        If I'd only my w'y I would _de_-cide
+            To dwell evermore,
+            By the murmuring shore,
+        With the billows a-blustering _be_-side!
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    Then how pleasant of a morning, to be up before the dorning!
+      And to sally forth a-prorning--e'en if nothing back you bring!
+    Some young men who like fatigue 'll go and try to pot a sea-gull,
+      What's the odds if it's illegal, or the bird they only wing?
+
+        _Chorus_--For it's one of the sports of the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+    Then what j'y to go a bything--though you'll swim, if you're
+           a sly thing,
+      Like a mermaid nimbly writhing, with a foot upon the sand!
+    When you're tired of old Poseidon, there's the pier to promenide on,
+      Strauss, and Sullivan, and Haydn form the programme of the band.
+
+        _Chorus_--For there's always a band at the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+    And, with boatmen so beguiling, sev'ral parties go out siling!
+      Sitting all together smiling, handing sandwiches about,
+    To the sound of concertiner,--till they're gradually greener,
+      And they wish the ham was leaner, as they sip their bottled stout.
+
+[Illustration: THE PANEGYRIC PATTER.]
+
+        _Chorus_--And they cry, "Put us back on the _Sea_-side!" &c.
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+    There is pleasure unalloyed in hiring hacks and going roiding!
+      (If you stick on tight, avoiding any cropper or mishap,)
+    Or about the rocks you ramble; over boulders slip and scramble;
+      Or sit down and do a gamble, playing "Loo" or "Penny Nap."
+
+        _Chorus_--"Penny Nap" is the gyme for the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Sixth Verse._
+
+    Then it's lovely to be spewning, all the glamour of the mewn in,
+      With your love his banjo tewning, ere flirtation can begin!
+    As along the sands you're strowling, till the hour of ten is towling,
+      And your Ma, severely scowling, asks "Wherever you have bin!"
+
+        _Chorus_--Then you answer "I've been by the _Sea_-side!" &c.
+
+_Seventh Verse._
+
+    Should the sky be dark and frowning, and the restless winds be mowning,
+      With the breakers' thunder drowning all the laughter and the glee;
+    And the day should prove a drencher, out of doors you will
+              not ventcher,
+      But you'll read the volumes lent yer by the Local Libraree!
+
+        _Chorus_--For there's sure to be one at the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Eighth Verse._
+
+    If the weather gets no calmer, you can patronise the dramer,
+      Where the leading lady charmer is a chit of forty-four;
+    And a duty none would skirk is to attend the strolling circus,
+      For they'd all be in the workhouse, should their antics cease
+               to dror!
+
+        _Chorus_--And they're part of the joys of the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Encore Verse_ (_to be used only in case of emergency_).
+
+    Well, I reelly must be gowing--I've just time to make my bow in--
+      But I thank you for allowing me to patter on so long.
+    And if, like me, you're pining for the breezes there's some brine in,
+      Why, I'll trouble you to jine in with the chorus to my song!
+
+        _Chorus_ (_all together_)--Oh, we're offully fond of the
+                    _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC.]
+
+XII.--THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC.
+
+
+A Music-hall audience will always be exceedingly susceptible to
+pathos--so long as they clearly understand that the song is not intended
+to be of a comic nature. However, there is very little danger of any
+misapprehension in the case of our present example, which is as natural
+and affecting a little song as any that have been moving the Music Halls
+of late. The ultra-fastidious may possibly be repelled by what they
+would term the vulgarity of the title,--"The Night-light Ever Burning by
+the Bed"--but, although it is true that this humble luminary is now more
+generally called a "Fairy Lamp," persons of true taste and refinement
+will prefer the homely simplicity of its earlier name. The song only
+contains three verses, which is the regulation allowance for Music-hall
+pathos, the authors probably feeling that the audience could not stand
+any more. It should be explained that the "tum-tum" at the end of
+certain lines is not intended to be sung--it is merely an indication to
+the orchestra to pinch their violins in a _pizzicato_ manner. The singer
+should either come on as a serious black man--for burnt cork is a
+marvellous provocative of pathos--or as his ordinary self. In either
+case he should wear evening dress, with a large brilliant on each hand.
+
+
+THE NIGHT-LIGHT EVER BURNING BY THE BED.
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    I've been thinking of the home where my early years were spent,
+      'Neath the care of a kind maiden aunt, (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    And to go there once again has been often my intent,
+      But the railway fare's expensive, so I can't! (_Tum_-tum!)
+    Still I never can forget that night when last we met:
+      "Oh, promise me--whate'er you do!" she said, (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    "Wear flannel next your chest, and, when you go to rest,
+      Keep a night-light always burning by your bed!" (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Refrain_ (_pianissimo._)
+
+                And my eyes are dim and wet;
+                For I seem to hear them yet--
+    Those solemn words at parting that she said: (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+                "Now, mind you burn a night-light,
+                --'Twill last until it's quite light--
+      In a saucerful of water by your bed!" (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    I promised as she wished, and her tears I gently dried,
+      As she gave me all the halfpence that she had: (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    And through the world e'er since I have wandered far and wide,
+      And been gradually going to the bad! (_Tum_-tum!)
+    Many a folly, many a crime I've committed in my time,
+      For a lawless and a chequered life I've led! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_.)
+    Still I've kept the promise sworn--flannel next my skin I've worn,
+      And I've always burnt a night-light by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Refrain._
+
+                All unhallowed my pursuits,
+                (Oft to bed I've been in boots!)
+    Still o'er my uneasy slumber has been shed (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+                The moderately bright light
+                Afforded by a night-light,
+          In a saucerful of water by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Third Verse._ (_To be sung with increasing solemnity._)
+
+    A little while ago, in a dream my aunt I saw;
+      In her frill-surrounded night-cap there she stood! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    And I sought to hide my head 'neath the counterpane in awe,
+      And I trembled--for my conscience isn't good! (_Tum_-tum!)
+    But her countenance was mild--so indulgently she smiled
+      That I knew there was no further need for dread! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    She had seen the flannel vest enveloping my chest,
+      And the night-light in its saucer by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Refrain_ (_more pianissimo still._)
+
+                But ere a word she spoke,
+                I unhappily awoke!
+    And away, alas! the beauteous vision fled! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    (_In mournful recitation_)--There was nothing but the slight light
+                Of the melancholy night-light
+        That was burning in a saucer by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR.]
+
+XIII.--THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR.
+
+
+To be a successful Military Impersonator, the principal requisite is a
+uniform, which may be purchased for a moderate sum, second-hand, in the
+neighbourhood of almost any barracks. Some slight acquaintance with the
+sword exercise and elementary drill is useful, though not absolutely
+essential. Furnished with these, together with a few commanding
+attitudes, and a song possessing a spirited, martial refrain, the
+Military Impersonator may be certain of an instant and striking success
+upon the Music-hall stage,--especially if he will condescend to avail
+himself of the ballad provided by _Mr. Punch_, as a vehicle for his
+peculiar talent. And--though we say it ourselves--it is a very nice
+ballad, to which Mr. McDougall himself would find it difficult to take
+exception. It is in three verses, too--the limit understood to be
+formally approved by the London County Council for such productions. It
+may be, indeed, that (save so far as the last verse illustrates the
+heroism of our troops in action--a heroism too real and too splendid to
+be rendered ridiculous, even by Military Impersonators), the song does
+_not_ convey a particularly accurate notion of the manner and pursuits
+of an officer in the Guards. But then no Music-hall ditty can ever be
+accepted as a quite infallible authority upon any social type it may
+undertake to depict--with the single exception, perhaps, of the Common
+(or Howling) Cad. So that any lack of actuality here will be rather a
+merit than a blemish in the eyes of an indulgent audience. Having said
+so much, we will proceed to our ballad, which is called,--
+
+
+IN THE GUARDS!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    I'm a Guardsman, and my manner is perhaps a bit "haw-haw;"
+    But when you're in the Guards you've got to show _esprit de corps_.
+                                       [_Pronounce "a spreedy core."_
+    We look such heavy swells, you see, we're all aristo-cr�ts,
+    When on parade we stand arrayed in our 'eavy bearskin 'ats.
+
+_Chorus_ (_during which the Martial Star will march round the stage in
+military order._)
+
+        We're all "'Ughies," "Berties," "Archies,"
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        Twisting silky long moustarches,
+                                 [_Suit the action to the word here._
+                            Bein' Guards! Doncher know?
+        While our band is playing Marches,
+                            For the Guards! Doncher know?
+        And the ladies stop to gaze upon the Guards,
+                                                  Bing-_Bang_!
+
+     [_Here a member of the orchestra will oblige with the cymbals,
+     while the Vocalist performs a military salute, as he passes to_--
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    With duchesses I'm 'and in glove, with countesses I'm thick;
+    From all the nobs I get invites--they say I am "so _chic_!"
+                                                [_Pronounce "chick."_
+    It often makes me laugh to read, whene'er I go off guard,
+    "Dear Bertie, come to my At Home!" on a coronetted card!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+        For we're "Berties," "'Ughies," "Archies,"
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        With our silky long moustarches,
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        Where's a regiment that marches
+                            Like the Guards? Doncher know?
+        All the darlings--bless 'em!--dote upon the Guards,
+                                                  Bing-_Bang_!
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+     [_Here comes the Singer's great chance, and by merely taking a
+     little pains, he may make a tremendously effective thing out of
+     it. If he can manage to slip away between the verses, and
+     change his bearskin and scarlet coat for a solar topee and
+     kharkee tunic at the wings, it will produce an enormous amount
+     of enthusiasm, only he must not take_ more _than five minutes
+     over this alteration, or the audience--so curiously are British
+     audiences constituted--may grow impatient for his return._
+
+But hark! the trumpet sounds!... (_Here a member of the orchestra will
+oblige upon the trumpet._) What's this? ... (_The Singer will take a
+folded paper from his breast and peruse it with attention._) We're
+ordered to the front!
+     [_This should be shouted._
+
+    We'll show the foe how "Carpet-Knights" can face the battle's brunt!
+    They laugh at us as "Brummels"--but we'll prove ourselves "Bay-yards!"
+
+     [_Now the Martial Star will draw his sword and unfasten his
+     revolver-case, taking up the exact pose in which he is
+     represented upon the posters outside._
+
+As you were!... Form Square!... Mark Time!... Slope Arms!...
+now--'Tention!... (_These military evolutions should all be gone through
+by the Artist._) Forward, Guards!
+     [_To be yelled through music._
+
+_Chorus._
+
+        Onward every 'ero marches,
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        All the "'Ughies," "Berties," "Archies,"
+                            Of the Guards! Doncher know?
+        They may twist their long moustarches,
+                            For they're Guards! Doncher know?
+        Dandies? yes,--but dandy _lions_ are the Guards!
+                                                        Bing-_Bang_!
+
+     [_Red fire and smoke at wings, as curtain falls upon the
+     Military Impersonator in the act of changing to a new
+     attitude._
+
+
+
+
+    MODEL MUSIC HALL.
+
+    DRAMAS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER.]
+
+I.--THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER.
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON�.
+
+    _The Little Crossing-Sweeper_
+     By the unrivalled Variety Artist        Miss JENNY JINKS.
+
+    _The Duke of Dillwater_                  Mr. HENRY IRVING.
+      [_Specially engaged; Mr. Punch is sure that he will cheerfully
+          make some slight sacrifice for so good a cause, and he can
+          easily slip out and get back again between the Acts of "Henry
+          the 8th."_
+
+    _A Policeman_                            Mr. RUTLAND BARRINGTON.
+      [_Engaged, at enormous expense, during the entire run of this
+          piece._
+
+    _A Butler_ (_his original part_)         Mr. ARTHUR CECIL.
+
+    _Foot-passengers_, _Flunkeys_, _Burglars_.--By the celebrated
+                    Knockabout Quick-change Troupe.
+
+
+     SCENE I.--_Exterior of the_ Duke's _Mansion in Euston Square by
+     night. On the right, a realistic Moon (by kind permission of_
+     Professor HERKOMER) _is rising slowly behind a lamp-post. On
+     left centre, a practicable pillar-box, and crossing, with real
+     mud. Slow Music, as_ Miss JENNY JINKS _enters, in rags, with
+     broom. Various Characters cross the street, post letters, &c._;
+     Miss JINKS _follows them, begging piteously for a copper, which
+     is invariably refused, whereupon she assails them with choice
+     specimens of street sarcasm--which the Lady may be safely
+     trusted to improvise for herself_.
+
+  _Miss Jenny Jinks_ (_leaning despondently against pillar-box, on which a
+ray of limelight falls in the opposite direction to the Moon_).
+
+    Ah, this cruel London, so marble-'arted and vast,
+    Where all who try to act honest are condemned to fast!
+
+_Enter two_ Burglars, _cautiously_.
+
+  _First B._ (_to_ Miss J. J.)
+    We can put you up to a fake as will be worth your while,
+    For you seem a sharp, 'andy lad, and just our style!
+
+     [_They proceed to unfold a scheme to break into the Ducal
+     abode, and offer_ Miss J. _a share of the spoil, if she will
+     allow herself to be put through the pantry window_.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_proudly_). I tell yer I won't 'ave nothink to do
+        with it, fur I ain't been used
+    To sneak into the house of a Dook to whom I 'aven't been introdooced!
+
+  _Second Burglar_ (_coarsely_). Stow that snivel, yer young
+        himp, we don't want none of that bosh!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_with spirit_). You hold _your_ jaw--for, when you
+        opens yer mouth, there ain't much o' yer face left to wash!
+
+     [_The_ Burglars _retire, baffled, and muttering_. Miss J.
+     _leans against pillar-box again--but more irresolutely_.
+
+    I've arf a mind to run after 'em, I 'ave, and tell 'em I'm game
+        to stand in!...
+    But, ah,--didn't my poor mother say as Burglary was a _Sin_!
+
+     [Duke _crosses stage in a hurry; as he pulls out his latchkey,
+     a threepenny-bit falls unregarded, except by the little_
+     Sweeper, _who pounces eagerly upon it_.
+
+    What's this? A bit o' good luck at last for a starvin' orfin boy!
+    What shall I buy? _I_ know--I'll have a cup of cawfy, and a
+        prime saveloy!
+    Ah,--_but it ain't mine_--and 'ark ... that music up in the air!
+
+          [_A harp is heard in the flies._
+
+    Can it be mother a-playin' on the 'arp to warn her boy to beware?
+    (_Awestruck._) There's a angel voice that is sayin' plain
+        (_solemnly_) "Him as prigs what isn't his'n,
+    Is sure to be copped some day--and then--his time he will
+        do in prison!"
+
+     [_Goes resolutely to the door, and knocks--The_ Duke _throws
+     open the portals_.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ If yer please, Sir, was you aware as you've
+        dropped a thruppenny-bit?
+
+  _The Duke_ (_after examining the coin._) 'Tis the very piece I
+        have searched for everywhere! You rascal, you've _stolen it_!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_bitterly_). And _that's_ 'ow a Dook rewards honesty
+        in _this_ world!
+
+        [_This line is sure of a round of applause._
+
+  _The Duke_ (_calling off_). Policeman, I give this lad in
+        charge for a shameless attempt to rob,
+
+_Enter_ Policeman.
+
+    Unless he confesses instantly who put him up to the job!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_earnestly_). I've told yer the bloomin' truth,
+        I 'ave--or send I may die!
+    I'm on'y a Crossing-sweeper, Sir, but I'd scorn to tell yer a lie!
+    Give me a quarter of a hour--no more--just time to kneel down and pray,
+    As I used to at mother's knee long ago--then the Copper kin
+        lead me away.
+
+     [_Kneels in lime-light. The_ Policeman _turns away, and uses
+     his handkerchief violently; the_ Duke _rubs his eyes_.
+
+  _The Duke._ No, blow me if I can do it, for I feel my eyes are
+        all twitching!
+    (_With conviction._) If he's good enough to kneel by his
+        mother's side, he's good enough to be in my kitching!
+
+     [Duke _dismisses_ Constable, _and, after disappearing into the
+     Mansion for a moment, returns with a neat Page's livery, which
+     he presents to the little_ Crossing-sweeper.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_na�vely_). 'Ow much shall I ask for on this,
+        Sir? What! Yer don't mean to say they're for _me_!
+    Am I really to be a Page to one of England's proud aristocra-cee?
+
+        [_Does some steps._
+
+
+    _Mechanical change to_ SCENE II.--_State Apartment at the_
+    Duke's. _Magnificent furniture, gilding, chandeliers. Suits of
+    genuine old armour. Statuary (lent by British and Kensington
+    Museums)._
+
+_Enter_ Miss J., _with her face washed, and looking particularly plump
+in her Page's livery. She wanders about stage_, _making any humorous
+comments that may occur to her on the armour and statuary. She might
+also play tricks on the Butler, and kiss the maids--all of which will
+serve to relieve the piece by delicate touches of comedy, and delight a
+discriminating audience._
+
+_Enter the_ Duke.
+
+    I hope, my lad, that we are making you comfortable here?    [_Kindly._
+
+  _Miss J. J._ Never was in such slap-up quarters in my life,
+        Sir, _I'll_ stick to yer, no fear!
+
+     [_In the course of conversation the_ Duke _learns with
+     aristocratic surprise, that the_ Page's _Mother was a Singer at
+     the Music Halls_.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ What, don't know what a Music-'all's like? and you a Dook!
+Well, you _are_ a jolly old juggins! 'Ere, you sit down on this gilded
+cheer--that's the ticket--I'll bring you your champagne and your
+cigars--want a light? (_Strikes match on her pantaloons._) Now you're
+all comfortable.
+
+_The_ Duke _sits down, smiling indulgently, out of her way, while she
+introduces her popular Vocal Character Sketch, of which space only
+permits us to give a few specimen verses_.
+
+        First the Champion Comic
+          Steps upon the stage;
+        With his latest "Grand Success."
+          Sure to be the rage!
+        Sixty pounds a week he
+          Easily can earn;
+        Round the Music Halls he goes,
+          And does at each a "turn."
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    Undah the stors in a sweet shady dairl,
+    I strolled with me awm round a deah little gairl,
+    And whethaw I kissed har yaw'd like me to tairl--
+                    Well, I'd rawthah you didn't inquiah!
+
+              All golden her hair is,
+            She's Queen of the Fairies,
+    And known by the name of the lovely Mariah,
+              She's a regular Venus,
+            But what passed between us,
+    I'd very much rawthah you didn't inquiah!
+
+        Next the Lady Serio,
+          Mincing as she walks;
+        If a note's too high for her,
+          She doesn't sing--she talks,
+        What she thinks about the men
+          You're pretty sure to learn,
+        She always has a hit at them,
+          Before she's done her "turn!"
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    You notty young men, ow! you notty young men!
+    You tell us you're toffs, and the real Upper Ten,
+    But behind all your ears is the mark of a pen!
+    So don't you deceive us, you notty young men!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_concluding_).
+             And such, Sir, are these entertainments grand,
+             In which Mirth and Refinement go 'and-in-'and!
+
+     [_As the_ Duke _is expressing his appreciation of the elevating
+     effect of such performances, the_ Butler _rushes in, followed
+     by two flurried_ Footmen.
+
+  _Butler._ Pardon this interruption, my Lord, but I come to
+        announce the fact
+          That by armed house-breakers the pantry has just been attacked!
+
+  _Duke._ Then we'll repel them--each to his weapons look!
+        I know how to defend my property, although I _am_ a Dook!
+
+  _Miss J._ (_snatching sword from one of the men-in-armour_).
+          With such a weapon I their hash will settle!
+          _You'll_ lend it, won't yer, old Britannia Metal?
+
+     [_Shouts and firing without; the_ Footmen _hide under sofa_.
+
+    Let flunkeys flee--though danger may encircle us,
+    A British Buttons ain't afeard of Burgulars!
+
+     [_Tremendous firing, during which the_ Burglars _are supposed
+     to be repulsed with heavy loss by the_ Duke, Butler, _and_
+     Page.
+
+  _Miss J._ 'Ere--I say, Dook, I saved yer life, didn't yer _know_?
+
+(_A parting shot, upon which she staggers back with a ringing scream_.)
+
+          The Brutes! they've been and shot me!... Mother!... Oh!
+
+     [_Dies in lime-light and great agony; the_ Footmen _come out
+     from under sofa and regard with sorrowing admiration the
+     lifeless form of the_ Little Crossing-sweeper, _which the_
+     Duke, _as curtain falls, covers reverently with the best
+     table-cloth_.
+
+
+
+
+II.--JOE, THE JAM-EATER.
+
+_A MUSICAL SPECTACULAR AND SENSATIONAL INTERLUDE._
+
+(_Dedicated respectfully to Mr. McDougall and the L. C. C._)
+
+[Illustration: Joe!]
+
+
+The Music-hall Dramatist, like Shakspeare and Moli�re, has a right to
+take his material from any source that may seem good to him. _Mr.
+Punch_, therefore, makes no secret of the fact, that he has based the
+following piece upon the well-known poem of "The Purloiner," by the
+Sisters Jane and Ann Taylor, who were _not_, as might be too hastily
+concluded, "Song and Dance Duettists," but two estimable ladies, who
+composed "cautionary" verses for the young, and whose works are a
+perfect mine of wealth for Moral Dramatists. In this dramatic version
+the Author has tried to infuse something of the old Greek sense of an
+overruling destiny, without detriment to prevailing ideas of moral
+responsibility. Those who have the misfortune to be born with a
+propensity for illicit jam, may learn from our Drama the terrible
+results of failing to overcome it early in life.
+
+
+JOE, THE JAM-EATER.
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON�.
+
+    _Jam-Loving Joe._ By that renowned Melodramatic Serio-Comic,
+    Miss CONNIE CURDLER.
+
+    _Joe's Mother_ (_the very part for Mrs. BANCROFT if she can
+    only be induced to make her reappearance_).
+
+    _John, a Gardener._ By the great Pink-eyed Unmusical Zulu.
+
+    _Jim-Jam, the Fermentation Fiend._ By Mr. BEERBOHM TREE (_who
+    has kindly consented to undertake the part_).
+
+    _Chorus of Plum and Pear Gatherers, from the Savoy_ (_by kind
+    permission of_ Mr. D'OYLY CARTE).
+
+
+    SCENE--_The Store-room at sunset with view of exterior of Jam
+    Cupboard, and orchard in distance._
+
+_Enter_ JOE.
+
+     "As Joe was at play, Near the cupboard one day, When he thought
+     no one saw but himself."--_Vide Poem._
+
+  _Joe_ (_dreamily_.) 'Tis passing strange that I so partial am
+                  To playing in the neighbourhood of Jam!
+
+     [_HERE_ Miss CURDLER _will introduce her great humorous
+     Satirical Medley illustrative of the Sports of Childhood, and
+     entitled,_ "Some little Gymes we all of us 'ave Plied;" _after
+     which, Enter_ JOE'S _Mother, followed by JOHN and the Chorus,
+     with baskets, ladders, &c., for gathering fruit_.
+
+     "His Mother and John, To the garden had gone, To gather ripe
+     pears and ripe plums."--_Poem._
+
+  _Joe's Mother_ (_with forced cheerfulness_)--
+
+    Let's hope, my friends, to find our pears and plums,
+    Unharmed by wopses, and untouched by wums.
+
+     [_Chorus signify assent in the usual manner by holding up the
+     right hand._
+
+  _Solo_--JOHN.
+
+    Fruit, when gathered ripe, is wholesome--
+      Otherwise if eaten green.
+    Once I know a boy who stole some--
+
+     [_With a glance at JOE, who turns aside to conceal his
+     confusion._
+
+      His internal pangs were keen!
+
+  _Chorus_ (_virtuously_). 'Tis the doom of all who're mean,
+    Their internal pangs are keen!
+
+  _Joe's Mother_ (_aside_). By what misgivings is a mother tortured!
+    I'll keep my eye on Joseph in the orchard.
+
+        [_She invites him with a gesture to follow._
+
+  _Joe_ (_earnestly_). Nay, Mother, here I'll stay till you have done.
+    Temptation it is ever best to shun!
+
+  _Joe's M_. So laudable his wish, I would not cross it--
+    (_Mysteriously._) He knows not there are jam-pots in yon closet!
+
+  _Chorus._ Away we go tripping,
+            From boughs to be stripping
+            Each pear, plum, and pippin
+                Pomona supplies!
+            When homeward we've brought 'em,
+            Those products of Autumn,
+            We'll carefully sort 'em
+                  (_One of our old Music-hall rhymes_),
+                According to size!    [_Repeat as they caper out._
+
+     [JOE'S Mother, _after one fond, lingering look behind, follows:
+     the voices are heard more and more faintly in the distance.
+     Stage darkens: the last ray of sunset illumines key of
+     jam-cupboard door._
+
+  _Joe._ At last I am alone! Suppose I tried
+         That cupboard--just to see what's kept inside?
+
+             [_Seems drawn towards it by some fatal fascination._
+
+       There _might_ be Guava jelly, and a plummy cake,
+       For such a prize I'd laugh to scorn a stomach-ache!
+
+             [_Laughs a stomach-ache to scorn._
+
+       And yet (_hesitating_) who knows?--a pill ... perchance--a powder!
+       (_Desperately._) What then? To scorn I'll laugh them--even louder!
+
+     [_Fetches chair and unlocks cupboard. Doors fall open with loud
+     clang, revealing Interior of Jam Closet (painted by_ HAWES
+     CRAVEN). JOE _mounts chair to explore shelves._
+
+     "How sorry I am, He ate raspberry jam, And currants that stood
+     on the shelf!"--_Vide Poem._
+
+  _Joe_ (_speaking with mouth full and back to audience_).
+    'Tis raspberry--of all the jams my favourite;
+    I'll clear the pot, whate'er I have to pay for it!
+    And finish up with currants from this shelf ...
+    Who'll ever see me?
+
+  _The_ Demon _of the Jam Closet (rising slowly from an immense
+  pot of preserves_).    No one--but Myself!
+
+     [_The cupboard is lit up by an infernal glare (courteously lent
+     by the Lyceum Management from "Faust" properties); weird
+     music_; JOE _turns slowly and confronts the_ Demon _with
+     awestruck eyes._ N.B.--_Great opportunity for powerful acting
+     here._
+
+  _The Demon (with a bland sneer_). Pray don't mind _me_--I
+        will await your leisure.
+
+  _Joe_ (_automatically_). Of your acquaintance, Sir, I've not
+        the pleasure.
+      Who are you? Wherefore have you intervened?
+
+  _The Demon_ (_quietly_). My name is "Jim-Jam;" occupation--fiend.
+
+  _Joe,_ (_cowering limply on his chair_). O Mr. Fiend, I
+          _know_ it's very wrong of me!
+
+  _Demon_ (_politely_). Don't mention it--but please to come "along of" me?
+
+  _Joe_ (_imploringly_). Do let me off this once,--ha! you're relenting,
+        You smile----
+
+  _Demon_ (_grimly_). 'Tis nothing but my jam fermenting!
+
+          [_Catches_ JOE's _ankle, and assists him to descend._
+
+  _Joe_. You'll drive me mad!
+
+  _Demon_ (_carelessly_).    I _may_--before I've done with you!
+
+  _Joe_. What do you want?
+
+  _Demon_ (_darkly_).   To have a little fun with you!
+      Of fiendish humour now I'll give a specimen.
+
+     [_Chases him round and round stage, and proceeds to smear him
+     hideously with jam._
+
+  _Joe_ (_piteously_). Oh, don't! I feel _so_ sticky. _What_ a mess I'm in!
+
+  _Demon_ (_with affected sympathy_).    That _is_ the worst of
+          jam--it's apt to stain you.
+
+     [_To_ JOE, _as he frantically endeavours to remove the traces
+     of his crime._
+
+    I see you're busy--so I'll not detain you!
+
+     [_Vanishes down star-trap with a diabolical laugh.
+     Cupboard-doors close with a clang; all lights down._ JOE
+     _stands gazing blankly for some moments, and then drags himself
+     off stage. His Mother and_ JOHN, _with Pear-and-Plum-gatherers
+     bearing laden baskets, appear at doors at back of Scene, in
+     faint light of torches._
+
+[Illustration: The Demon!]
+
+_Re-enter_ JOE _bearing a candle and wringing his hands._
+
+  _Joe._ Out, jammed spot! What--will these hands _never_ be clean? Here's
+the smell of the raspberry jam still! All the powders of Gregory cannot
+unsweeten this little hand ... (_Moaning._) Oh, oh, oh!
+
+     [_This passage has been accused of bearing too close a
+     resemblance to one in a popular Stage Play; if so, the
+     coincidence is purely accidental, as the Dramatist is not in
+     the habit of reading such profane literature._
+
+  _Joe's Mother._ Ah! what an icy dread my heart benumbs!
+      See--stains on all his fingers, and his thumbs!
+
+     "What Joe was about, His mother found out, When she look'd at
+     his fingers and thumbs."--_Poem again._
+
+Nay, Joseph--'tis your mother ... speak to her!
+
+  _Joe_ (_tonelessly, as before_). Lady, I know you not (_touches lower
+part of waistcoat_); but, prithee, undo this button. I think I have jam
+in all my veins, and I would fain sleep. When I am gone, lay me in a
+plain white jelly-pot, with a parchment cover, and on the label
+write--but come nearer, I have a secret for your ear alone ... there are
+strange things in _some_ cupboards! Demons should keep in the dust-bin.
+(_With a ghastly smile._) I know not what ails me, but I am not feeling
+at all well.
+
+     [JOE'S Mother _stands a few steps from him, with her hands
+     twisted in her hair, and stares at him in speechless terror._
+
+  _Joe_ (_to the Chorus_). I would shake hands with you all, were not my
+fingers so sticky. We eat marmalade, but we know not what it is made of.
+Hush! if Jim-Jam comes again, tell him that I am not at home.
+Loo-loo-loo!
+
+  _All_ (_with conviction_). Some shock has turned his brine!
+
+  _Joe_ (_sitting down on floor, and weaving straws in his hair._) My
+curse upon him that invented jam. Let us all play Tibbits.
+
+     [_Laughs vacantly; all gather round him, shaking their heads,
+     his_ Mother _falls fainting at his feet as curtain falls upon a
+     strong and moral, though undeniably gloomy d�no�ment._
+
+
+
+
+III.--THE MAN-TRAP.
+
+
+This Drama, which, like our last, has been suggested by a poem of the
+Misses Taylor, will be found most striking and impressive in
+representation upon the Music-hall stage. The dramatist has ventured to
+depart somewhat from the letter, though not the spirit, of the original
+text, in his desire to enforce the moral to the fullest possible extent.
+Our present piece is intended to teach the great lesson that an
+inevitable Nemesis attends apple-stealing in this world, and that Doom
+cannot be disarmed by the intercession of the evil-doer's friends,
+however well-meaning.
+
+
+THE MAN-TRAP!
+
+_A THRILLING MORAL MUSICAL SENSATION SKETCH IN ONE SCENE._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON�.
+
+    _William_ (_a Good Boy_)                       Mr. HARRY NICHOLLS.
+    _Thomas_ (_a Bad Boy_)                         Mr. HERBERT CAMPBELL.
+             (_Who have kindly offered their services._)
+    _Benjamin_ (_neither one thing nor the other_) Mr. SAMUEL SUPER.
+    _The Monster Man-Trap_                         Mr. GEORGE CONQUEST.
+
+
+     SCENE.--_An elaborate set, representing, on extreme left, a
+     portion of the high road, and wall dividing it from an orchard;
+     realistic apple- and pear-trees laden with fruit. Time, about
+     four o'clock on a hot afternoon. Enter_ WILLIAM _and_ THOMAS,
+     _hand-in-hand, along road; they ignore the dividing wall, and
+     advance to front of stage._
+
+_Duet._--WILLIAM _and_ THOMAS.
+
+  _Wm._ I'm a reg'lar model boy, I am; so please make no mistake.
+          It's Thomas who's the bad 'un--_I'm_ the good!
+
+  _Thos._ Yes, I delight in naughtiness for naughtiness's sake,
+            And I wouldn't be like William if I could!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+  _Wm._ Ever since I could toddle, my conduct's been model,
+          There's, oh, such a difference between me and him!
+
+  _Thos._ While still in the cradle, I orders obeyed ill,
+            And now I've grown into a awful young limb!
+
+                       { he's }
+  _Together._ Yes, now { I've } grown into a awful young limb.
+           I've made up my mind not to imitate _him_!
+
+        [_Here they dance._
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ If someone hits him in the eye, he always hits them back!
+          When _I_ am struck, my Ma I merely tell!
+        On passing fat pigs in a lane, he'll give 'em each a whack!
+
+  _Thos._ (_impenitently_). And jolly fun it is to hear 'em yell!
+
+        [_Chorus._
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ He's always cribbing coppers--which he spends on lollipops.
+
+  _Thos._   (A share of which _you_'ve never yet refused!)
+
+  _Wm._ A stone he'll shy at frogs and toads, and anything that hops!
+
+  _Thos._   (While you look on, and seem to be amused!)
+
+        [_Chorus._
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ As soon as school is over, Thomas goes a hunting squirr'ls,
+          Or butterflies he'll capture in his hat!
+
+  _Thos._ _You_ play at Kissing in the Ring with all the little girls!
+
+  _Wm._ (_demurely_). Well, Thomas, I can see no harm in _that_!
+
+        [_Chorus._
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ Ah, Thomas, if you don't reform, you'll come to some bad end!
+
+  _Thos._   Oh, William, put your head inside a bag!
+
+  _Wm._ No, Thomas, that I cannot--till you promise to amend!
+
+  _Thos._   Why, William, what a chap you are to nag!
+
+     [_Chorus and dance._ THOMAS _returns to road, and regards the
+     apple-trees longingly over top of wall._
+
+  _Thos._ Hi, William, look ... what apples! there--don't _you_ see?
+          And pears--my eye! just _ain't_ they looking juicy!
+
+  _Wm._   Nay, Thomas, since you're bent upon a sin,
+          _I_ will walk on, and visit Benjamin!
+
+     [_Exit_ WILLIAM (L. 2 E.), _while THOMAS proceeds to scale the
+     wall and climb the boughs of the nearest pear-tree.
+     Melodramatic Music._ The Monster Man-trap _stealthily emerges
+     from long grass below, and fixes a baleful eye on the
+     unconscious_ THOMAS.
+
+  _Thos._ I'll fill my pockets, and on pears I'll feast!
+
+            [_Sees_ Man-trap, _and staggers._
+
+          Oh, lor--whatever is that hugly beast!
+          Hi, help, here! call him off!...
+
+  _The Monster._         'Tis vain to holler--
+          My horders are--all trespassers to swoller!
+          You just come down--I'm waiting 'ere to ketch you.
+      (_Indignantly._) You _don't_ expect I'm coming up to fetch you!
+
+  _Thos._ (_politely._) Oh, not if it would inconvenience _you_, Sir!
+      (_In agonised aside._) I feel my grip grow every moment looser!
+
+     [_The_ Monster, _in a slow, uncouth manner, proceeds to
+     scramble up the tree._
+
+          Oh, here's a go! The horrid thing can _climb_!
+          Too late I do repent me of my crime!
+
+     [_Terrific sensation chase!_ The Monster Man-trap _leaps from
+     bough to bough with horrible agility, and eventually secures
+     his prey, and leaps with it to the ground._
+
+  _Thos._ (_in the_ Monster's _jaws_). I'm sure you seem a kind,
+          good-natured creature--
+      You will not harm me?
+
+  _Monster._          No--I'll only eat yer!
+
+     [THOMAS _slowly vanishes down its cavernous jaws; faint yells
+     are heard at intervals--then nothing but a dull champing sound;
+     after which, dead silence. The_ Monster _smiles, with an air of
+     repletion._
+
+_Re-enter_ WILLIAM, _from_ R., _with_ BENJAMIN.
+
+  _Benjamin._ I'm very glad you came--but where is Thomas?
+
+  _Wm._ (_severely_). Tom is a wicked boy, and better from us,
+      For on the road he stopped to scale a wall!...
+
+         [_Sees_ Man-trap, _and starts._
+
+      What's _that_?
+
+  _Benj._       It will not hurt _good_ boys at all--
+        It's only Father's Man-trap--why so pale?
+
+  _Wm._ The self-same tree! ... the wall that Tom _would_ scale!
+          Where's Thomas _now_? Ah, Tom, the wilful pride of you.
+
+        [_The_ Man-trap _affects an elaborate unconsciousness._
+
+[Illustration: Up a Tree!]
+
+  _Benj._ (_with sudden enlightenment_). Man-trap, I do believe
+          poor Tom's inside of you!
+        That sort of smile's exceedingly suspicious.
+
+        [_The_ Man-trap _endeavours to hide in the grass._
+
+  _Wm._ Ah, Monster, give him back--'tis true he's vicious,
+        And had no business to go making free with you!
+        But think, so bad a boy will disagree with you!
+
+     [WILLIAM _and_ BENJAMIN _kneel in attitudes of entreaty on
+     either side of the_ Man-trap, _which shows signs of increasing
+     emotion as the song proceeds._
+
+  _Benjamin_ (_sings_).
+
+      Man-trap, bitter our distress is
+        That you have unkindly penned
+      In your innermost recesses
+        One who used to be our friend!
+
+  _William_ (_sings_).
+
+      In his downward course arrest him!
+        (He may take a virtuous tack);
+      Pause awhile, ere you digest him,
+        Make an effort--bring him back!
+
+     [_The_ Man-trap _is convulsed by a violent heave_; WILLIAM and
+     BENJAMIN _bend forward in an agony of expectation, until a
+     small shoe and the leg of_ THOMAS'S _pantaloons are finally
+     emitted from the_ Monster's _jaws._
+
+  _Benj._ (_exultantly_). See, William, now he's coming ... here's
+          his shoe for you!
+
+  _The Man-trap_ (_with an accent of genuine regret). I'm sorry--but
+          that's all that I can do for you!_
+
+  _Wm._ (_raising the shoe and the leg of pantaloons, and holding
+      them sorrowfully at arm's length_).
+      He's met the fate which moralists all promise is
+      The end of such depraved careers as Thomas's!
+      Oh, Benjamin, take warning by it _be_-time!
+      (_More brightly_). But now to wash our hands--'tis nearly tea-time!
+
+     [_Exeunt_ WILLIAM and BENJAMIN, _to wash their hands, as
+     Curtain falls. N.B. This finale is more truly artistic, and in
+     accordance with modern dramatic ideas, than the conventional
+     "picture."_
+
+
+
+
+IV.--THE FATAL PIN.
+
+
+Our present example is pure tragedy of the most ambitious kind, and is,
+perhaps, a little in advance of the taste of a Music-hall audience of
+the present day. When the fusion between the Theatres and the Music
+Halls is complete--when Miss Bessie Bellwood sings "_What Cheer, 'Ria?_"
+at the Lyceum, and Mr. Henry Irving gives his compressed version of
+_Hamlet_ at the Trocadero; when there is a general levelling-up of
+culture, and removal of prejudice--then, and not till then, will this
+powerful little play meet with the appreciation which is its due. The
+main idea is suggested by the Misses Taylor's well-known poem, _The
+Pin_, though the dramatist has gone further than the poetess in working
+out the notion of Nemesis.
+
+
+THE FATAL PIN.
+
+_A TRAGEDY._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON�.
+
+    _Emily Heedless._ By either Miss VESTA TILLEY or Mrs. BERNARD BEERE.
+
+    _Peter Paragon._ Mr. FORBES ROBERTSON or Mr. ARTHUR ROBERTS
+        (only he mustn't sing "_The Good Young Man who Died_").
+
+    _First and Second Bridesmaids._ Miss MAUDE MILLETT and Miss
+    ANNIE HUGHES.
+
+
+     SCENE.--EMILY'S _Boudoir, sumptuously furnished with a screen
+     and sofa,_ C. _Door_, R., _leading to_ EMILY'S _Bed-chamber.
+     Door,_ L. EMILY _discovered in loose wrapper, and reclining in
+     uncomfortable position on sofa._
+
+  _Emily_ (_dreamily_). This day do I become the envied bride
+    Of Peter, justly surnamed Paragon;
+    And much I wonder what in me he found
+    (He, who Perfection so personifies)
+    That he could condescend an eye to cast
+    On faulty feather-headed Emily!
+    How solemn is the stillness all around me!
+
+        [_A loud bang is heard behind screen._
+
+    Methought I heard the dropping of a pin!--
+    Perhaps I should arise and search for it....
+    Yet why, on second thoughts, disturb myself,
+    Since I am, by my settlements, to have
+    A handsome sum allowed for pin-money?
+    Nay, since thou claim'st thy freedom, little pin,
+    I lack the heart to keep thee prisoner.
+    Go, then, and join the great majority
+    Of fallen, vagrant, unregarded pinhood--
+    My bliss is too supreme at such an hour
+    To heed such infidelities as thine.
+
+        [_Falls into a happy reverie._
+
+_Enter_ First and Second Bridesmaids.
+
+  _First and Second Bridesmaids._ What, how now, Emily--not yet attired?
+    Nay, haste, for Peter will be here anon!
+
+     [_They hurry her off by_ R. _door, just as_ PETER PARAGON
+     _enters_ L. _in bridal array. N.B.--The exigencies of the Drama
+     are responsible for his making his appearance here, instead of
+     waiting, as is more usual, at the church._
+
+  _Peter_ (_meditatively_). The golden sands of my celibacy
+    Are running low--soon falls the final grain!
+    Yet, even now, the glass I would not turn.
+    My Emily is not without her faults
+    "_Was_ not without them," I should rather say,
+    For during ten idyllic years of courtship,
+
+[Illustration: "It is a Pin!"]
+
+    By precept and example I have striven
+    To mould her to a helpmate fit for me.
+    Now, thank the Gods, my labours are complete.
+    She stands redeemed from all her giddiness!
+
+        [_Here he steps upon the pin, and utters an exclamation._
+
+    Ha! What is this? I'm wounded ... agony!
+    With what a darting pain my foot's transfixed!
+    I'll summon help (_with calm courage_)--yet, stay, I would not dim
+    This nuptial day by any sombre cloud.
+    I'll bear this stroke alone--and now to probe
+    The full extent of my calamity.
+
+     [_Seats himself on sofa in such a position as to be concealed
+     by the screen from all but the audience, and proceeds to remove
+     his boot._
+
+    Ye powers of Perfidy, it is a pin!
+    I must know more of this--for it is meet
+    Such criminal neglect should be exposed.
+    Severe shall be that house-maid's punishment
+    Who's proved to be responsible for this!--
+    But soft, I hear a step.
+
+     [_Enter_ First _and_ Second Bridesmaids, _who hunt diligently
+     upon the carpet without observing_ Peter's _presence._
+
+  _Emily's Voice_ (_within_). Oh, search, I pray you.
+    It _must_ be there--my own ears heard it fall!
+
+        [PETER _betrays growing uneasiness._
+
+  _The Bridesmaids._ Indeed, we fail to see it anywhere!
+
+  _Emily_ (_entering distractedly in bridal costume, with a large rent in
+her train_).
+
+    You have no eyes, I tell you, let me help.
+    It must be found, or I am all undone!
+    In vain my cushion I have cut in two
+    'Twas void of all but stuffing ... Gracious Heavens,
+    To think that all my future bliss depends
+    On the evasive malice of a pin!
+
+        [PETER _behind screen, starts violently._
+
+  _Peter_ (_aside_). A pin! what dire misgivings wring my heart!
+
+     [Hops forward with a cold dignity, holding one foot in his
+     hand.
+
+    You seem in some excitement, Emily?
+
+  _Emily_ (_wildly_). _You_, Peter!... tell me--have you found a pin?
+
+  _Peter_ (_with deadly calm_). Unhappy girl--I _have_!
+          (_To_ Bridesmaids.) Withdraw awhile,
+      And should we need you, we will summon you.
+
+     [_Exeunt_ Bridesmaids; EMILY _and_ PETER _stand facing each
+     other for some moments in dead silence._
+
+    The pin is found--for I have trodden on it,
+    And may, for aught I know, be lamed for life.
+    Speak, Emily, what is that maid's desert
+    Whose carelessness has led to this mishap?
+
+  _Emily_ (_in the desperate hope of shielding herself_).
+    Why, should the fault he traced to any maid,
+    Instant dismissal shall be her reward,
+    With a month's wages paid in lieu of notice!
+
+  _Peter_ (_with a passionless severity_).
+    From your own lips I judge you, Emily.
+    Did they not own just now that you had heard
+    The falling of a pin--yet heeded not?
+    Behold the outcome of your negligence!
+
+        [_Extends his injured foot._
+
+  _Emily_.   Oh, let me kiss the place and make it well!
+
+  _Peter_ (_coldly withdrawing foot_).   Keep your caresses till
+        I ask for them.
+    My wound goes deeper than you wot of yet,
+    And by that disregarded pin is pricked
+    The iridescent bubble of Illusion!
+
+  _Emily_ (_slowly_). Indeed, I do not wholly comprehend.
+
+  _Peter._ Have patience and I will be plainer yet.
+    Mine is a complex nature, Emily;
+    Magnanimous, but still methodical.
+    An injury I freely can forgive,
+    Forget it (_striking his chest_), never! She who leaves about
+    Pins on the floor to pierce a lover's foot,
+    Will surely plant a thorn within the side
+    Of him whose fate it is to be her husband!
+
+  _Emily_ (_dragging herself towards him on her knees_).
+    Have pity on me, Peter; I was mad!
+
+  _Peter_ (_with emotion_). How can I choose but pity thee, poor soul,
+    Who, for the sake of temporary ease,
+    Hast forfeited the bliss that had been thine!
+    You could not stoop to pick a pin up. Why?
+    Because, forsooth, 'twas but a paltry pin!
+    Yet, duly husbanded, that self-same pin
+    Had served you to secure your gaping train,
+    Your self-respect--and Me.
+
+  _Emily_ (_wailing_). What have I done?
+
+  _Peter_. I will not now reproach you, Emily,
+    Nor would I dwell upon my wounded sole,
+    The pain of which increases momently.
+    I part from you in friendship, and in proof,
+    That fated instrument I leave with you
+
+     [_Presenting her with the pin, which she accepts mechanically._
+
+    Which the frail link between us twain has severed.
+    I can dispense with it, for in my cuff
+
+     [_Shows her his coat-cuff, in which a row of pins'-heads is
+     perceptible._
+
+    I carry others 'gainst a time of need.
+    My poor success in life I trace to this
+    That never yet I passed a pin unheeded.
+
+  _Emily._ And is that all you have to say to me?
+
+  _Peter._ I think so--save that I shall wish you well,
+    And pray that henceforth you may bear in mind
+    What vast importance lies in seeming trifles.
+
+  _Emily_ (_with a pale smile_). Peter, your lesson is already learned,
+    For precious has this pin become for me,
+    Since by its aid I gain oblivion--thus!    [_Stabs herself._
+
+  _Peter_ (_coldly._) Nay, these are histrionics, Emily.
+
+        [_Assists her to sofa._
+
+  _Emily._ I'd skill enough to find a vital spot.
+    Do not withdraw it yet--my time is short,
+    And I have much to say before I die.
+    (_Faintly._) Be gentle with my rabbits when I'm gone;
+    Give my canary chickweed now and then.
+    ... I think there is no more--ah, one last word--
+    (_Earnestly_)--Warn them they must not cut our wedding-cake,
+    And then the pastrycook may take it back!
+
+  _Peter_ (_deeply moved_). Would you had shown this
+        thoughtfulness before!    [_Kneels by the sofa._
+
+  _Emily._ 'Tis now too late, and clearly do I see
+    That I was never worthy of you, Peter.
+
+  _Peter_ (_gently_). 'Tis not for me to contradict you now.
+    You did your best to be so, Emily!
+
+  _Emily._ A blessing on you for those generous words!
+    Now tell me, Peter, how is your poor foot?
+
+  _Peter._ The agony decidedly abates,
+    And I can almost bear a boot again.
+
+  _Emily._ Then I die happy!... Kiss me, Peter ... ah!
+
+        [_Dies_.
+
+  _Peter._ In peace she passed away. I'm glad of that,
+    Although that peace was purchased by a lie.
+    I shall not bear a boot for many days!
+    Thus ends our wedding morn, and she, poor child,
+    Has paid the penalty of heedlessness!
+
+     [_Curtain falls, whereupon, unless Mr. Punch is greatly
+     mistaken, there will not be a dry eye in the house._
+
+
+
+
+V.--BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE.
+
+_A MELODRAMATIC DIDACTIC VAUDEVILLE._
+
+_Suggested by "The Wooden Doll and the Wax Doll," by the Misses Jane and
+Ann Taylor._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON�.
+
+    _Blanchidine,_ } By the celebrated Sisters STILTON, the Champion
+    _Brunette._    }      Duettists and Clog-Dancers.
+
+    _Fanny Furbelow._ By Miss SYLVIA SEALSKIN (_by kind permission of
+                             the Gaiety Management_).
+
+    _Frank Manly._ By Mr. HENRY NEVILLE.
+
+
+    SCENE--_A sunny Glade in Kensington Gardens, between the
+    Serpentine and Round Pond._
+
+_Enter_ BLANCHIDINE _and_ BRUNETTE, _with their arms thrown
+affectionately around one another._ BLANCHIDINE _is carrying a large and
+expressionless wooden doll._
+
+_Duet and Step-dance._
+
+  _Bl._ Oh, I do adore BRUNETTE! (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity,
+    tappity-tippity, tippity-tappity, tip-tap!
+
+  _Br._ BLANCHIDINE'S the sweetest pet! (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.
+
+  _Together._        When the sun is high,
+                     We come out to ply,
+                     Nobody is nigh,
+                     All is mirth and j'y!
+                     With a pairosol,
+                     We'll protect our doll,
+                     Make a mossy bed
+                     For her wooden head!
+
+     [_Combination step-dance during which both watch their feet
+     with an air of detached and slightly amused interest, as if
+     they belonged to some other persons._
+
+    Clickity-clack, clickity-clack, clickity, clickity, clickity-clack;
+    clackity-clickity, clickity-clackity, clackity-clickity-_clack_!
+
+        [_Repeat ad. lib._
+
+  _Bl._ (_apologetically to Audience_). Her taste in dress is rather plain!
+        (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.
+
+  _Br._ (_in pitying aside_). It _is_ a pity she's so vain!
+        (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.
+
+  _Bl._              'Tis a shime to smoile,
+                     But she's shocking stoyle,
+                     It is quite a troyal,
+                     Still--she mikes a foil!
+
+  _Br._              Often I've a job
+                     To suppress a sob,
+                     She is such a snob,
+                     When she meets a nob!
+
+        [_Step-dance as before._
+
+     [N.B.--_In consideration of the well-known difficulty that most
+     popular Variety-Artists experience in the metrical delivery of
+     decasyllabic couplets, the lines which follow have been written
+     as they will most probably be spoken._
+
+  _Bl._ (_looking off with alarm_). Why, here comes Fanny
+        Furbelow, a new frock from Paris in!
+    She'll find me with Brunette--it's _too_ embarrassing!
+
+        [_Aside._
+
+    (_To Brunette._) Brunette, my love, I know _such_ a pretty
+        game we'll play at--
+    Poor Timburina's ill, and the seaside she ought to stay at.
+    (The Serpentine's the seaside, let's pretend.)
+    And _you_ shall take her there--(_hypocritically_)--you're
+        such a friend!
+
+  _Br._ (_with simplicity_). Oh, yes, that _will_ be splendid, Blanchidine,
+    And then we can go and have a dip in a bathing-machine!
+
+     [BLAN. _resigns the wooden doll to_ BRUN., _who skips off with
+     it_, L., _as_ FANNY FURBELOW _enters_ R., _carrying a
+     magnificent wax doll_.
+
+  _Fanny_ (_languidly_). Ah, howdy do--_isn't_ this heat too
+    frightful? And so you're quite alone?
+
+  _Bl._ (_nervously._) Oh, _quite_--oh yes, I always am alone,
+    when there's nobody with me.
+
+     [_This is a little specimen of the Lady's humorous "gag," at
+     which she is justly considered a proficient._
+
+  _Fanny_ (_drawling_).      Delightful!
+    When I was wondering, only a little while ago,
+    If I should meet a creature that I know;
+    Allow me--my new doll, the Lady Minnie!
+
+        [_Introducing doll._
+
+  _Bl._ (_rapturously_). Oh, what a perfect love!
+
+  _Fanny._                  She ought to be--for a guinea!
+    Here, you may nurse her for a little while.
+    Be careful, for her frock's the latest style.
+
+        [_Gives_ BLAN. _the wax doll_.
+
+    She's the best wax, and has three changes of clothing--
+    For those cheap wooden dolls I've quite a loathing.
+
+  _Bl._ (_hastily_). Oh, so have _I_--they're not to be endured!
+
+_Re-enter_ BRUNETTE _with the wooden doll, which she tries to press
+upon_ BLANCHIDINE, _much to the latter's confusion_.
+
+  _Br._ I've brought poor Timburina back, completely cured!
+    Why, aren't you pleased? Your face is looking _so_ cloudy!
+
+  _F._ (_haughtily_). Is she a friend of _yours_--this little
+        dowdy?    [_Slow music._
+
+  _Bl._ (_after an internal struggle_). Oh, no, what an idea!
+    Why, I don't even know her by name!
+    Some vulgar child ...
+
+        [_Lets the wax doll fall unregarded on the gravel._
+
+  _Br._ (_indignantly_). Oh, what a horrid shame!
+    I see _now_ why you sent us to the Serpentine!
+
+  _Bl._ (_heartlessly_). There's no occasion to flare up like turpentine.
+
+  _Br._ (_ungrammatically_). I'm _not_! Disown your doll, and
+        thrust me, too, aside!
+    The one thing left for both of us is--suicide!
+    Yes, Timburina, us no more she cherishes--
+    (_Bitterly._) Well, the Round Pond a handy place to perish is!
+
+        [_Rushes off stage with wooden doll._
+
+  _Bl._ (_making a feeble attempt to follow_). Come back,
+    Brunette; don't leave me thus, in charity!
+
+  _F._ (_with contempt_). Well, I'll be off--since you seem to
+        prefer vulgarity.
+
+  _Bl._ No, stay--but--ah, she said--what if she _meant_ it?
+
+  _F._ Not she! And, if she did, _we_ can't prevent it.
+
+  _Bl._ (_relieved_). That's true--we'll play, and think no more about her.
+
+  _F._ (_sarcastically_). We may _just_ manage to get on without her!
+    So come----(_Perceives doll lying face upwards on path._)
+    You odious girl, what have you done?
+    Left Lady Minnie lying in the blazing sun!
+    'Twas done on purpose--oh, you _thing_ perfidious!    [_Stamps._
+    You _knew_ she'd melt, and get completely hideous!
+    Don't answer _me_, Miss--I wish we'd never met.
+    You're only fit for persons like Brunette!
+
+        [_Picks up doll, and exit in passion._
+
+_Grand Sensation Descriptive Soliloquy, by_ BLANCHIDINE, _to
+Melodramatic Music_.
+
+  _Bl._ Gone! Ah, I am rightly punished! What would I not give now to have
+homely little Brunette, and dear old wooden-headed Timburina back again!
+_She_ wouldn't melt in the sun.... Where are they now? Great Heavens!
+that threat--that rash resolve ... I remember all! 'Twas in the
+direction of the Pond they vanished. (_Peeping anxiously between
+trees._) Are they still in sight? ... Yes, I see them? Brunette has
+reached the water's edge ... What is she purposing! Now she kneels on
+the rough gravel; she is making Timburina kneel too! How calm and
+resolute they both appear! (_Shuddering._) I dare not look further--but
+ah, I must--_I must_!... Horror! I saw her boots flash for an instant in
+the bright sunlight: and now the ripples have closed, smiling, over her
+little black stockings!... Help!--save her, somebody!--help!... Joy! a
+gentleman has appeared on the scene--how handsome, how brave he looks!
+He has taken in the situation at a glance! With quiet composure he
+removes his coat--oh, _don't_ trouble about folding it up!--and why,
+_why_ remove your gloves, when there is not a moment to be lost? Now,
+with many injunctions, he entrusts his watch to a bystander, who
+retires, overcome by emotion. And now--oh, gallant, heroic soul!--now he
+is sending his toy-terrier into the seething water! (_Straining_
+_eagerly forward._) Ah, the dog paddles bravely out--he has reached the
+spot ... oh, he has passed it!--he is trying to catch a duck! Dog, dog,
+_is_ this a time for pursuing ducks? At last he understands--he dives
+... he brings up--agony! a small tin cup! Again ... _this_ time,
+surely--what, only an old pot-hat!... Oh, this dog is a fool! And still
+the Round Pond holds its dread secret! Once more ... yes--no, yes, it
+_is_ Timburina! Thank Heaven, she yet breathes! But Brunette?
+Can she have stuck in the mud at the bottom? Ha, she, too, is
+rescued--saved--ha-ha-ha!--saved, saved, saved!
+
+        [_Swoons hysterically amid deafening applause._
+
+[Illustration: "Saved--ha-ha-ha!"]
+
+  _Enter_ FRANK MANLY _supporting_ BRUNETTE, _who carries_ TIMBURINA.
+
+  _Bl._ (_wildly_). What, do I see you safe, beloved Brunette?
+
+  _Br._ Yes, thanks to his courage, I'm not even _wet_!
+
+  _Frank_ (_modestly_). Nay, spare your compliments. To rescue Beauty,
+    When in distress, is every hero's duty!
+
+  _Bl._ Brunette, forgive--I'm cured of all my folly!
+
+  _Br._ (_heartily_). Of course I will, my dear, and so will dolly!
+
+     [_Grand Trio and Step-dance, with "tippity-tappity," and
+     "clickity-clack" refrain as finale._
+
+
+
+
+VI.--COMING OF AGE.
+
+
+Our present Drama represents an attempt to illustrate upon the
+Music-hall stage the eternal truth that race _will_ tell in the long
+run, despite--but, on second thoughts, it does not _quite_ prove that,
+though it certainly shows the unerring accuracy of parental--at least,
+that is not exactly its tendency, either; and the fact is that _Mr.
+Punch_ is more than a little mixed himself as to the precise theory
+which it is designed to enforce. He hopes, however, that, as a realistic
+study of Patrician life and manners, it will possess charms for a
+democratic audience.
+
+
+COMING OF AGE.
+
+_A GRAND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGICAL COMEDY-DRAMA IN ONE ACT._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON�.
+
+    _The Earl of Burntalmond._
+
+    _The Countess of Burntalmond (his wife)._
+
+    _Robert Henry Viscount Bullsaye (their son and heir)._
+
+    _The Lady Rose Caramel (niece to the Earl)._
+
+    _Horehound_            } Travelling as "The Celebrated Combination
+    _Mrs. Horehound_       }   Korffdropp Troupe," in their refined and
+    _Coltsfoot Horehound_  }   elegant Drawing-room Entertainment.
+
+    _Tenantry._
+
+
+     SCENE--_The Great Quadrangle of Hardbake Castle; banners,
+     mottoes, decorations, &c. On the steps_, R., _the Earl,_
+     supported by his wife, son, and niece, is discovered in the act
+     of concluding a speech to six tenantry, who display all the
+     enthusiasm that is reasonably to be expected at nine-pence a
+     night.
+
+  _The Earl_ (_patting_ Lord BULLSAYE'S _shoulder_). I might say more,
+Gentlemen, in praise of my dear son, Lord Bullsaye, here--I might dwell
+on his extreme sweetness, his strongly marked character, the variety of
+his tastes, and the singular attraction he has for children of all
+ages--but I forbear. I will merely announce that on this day--the day he
+has selected for attaining his majority--he has gratified us all by
+plighting troth to his cousin, the Lady Rose Caramel, with whose dulcet
+and clinging disposition he has always possessed the greatest natural
+affinity.
+     [_Cheers._
+
+  _Lord Bullsaye_ (_aside to_ Lady R.). Ah, Rose, would such happiness
+could last! But my heart misgives me strangely--why, I know not.
+
+  _Lady R._ Say not so, dear Bullsaye--have you not just rendered me the
+happiest little Patrician in the whole peerage?
+
+  _Lord B._ 'Tis true--and yet, and yet--pooh, let me snatch the present
+hour!
+     [_Snatches it._
+
+  _The Earl._ And now, let the Revels commence.
+
+_Enter the_ Korffdropp Troupe, _who give their marvellous Entertainment,
+entitled, "The Three Surprise Packets;" after which_--
+
+  _Horehound._ This will conclude the first portion of our Entertainment,
+Lords, Ladies, _and_ Gentlemen; and, while my wife and pardner retires
+to change her costoom for the Second Part, I should be glad of the
+hoppertoonity of a short pussonal hexplanation with the noble Herl on my
+right.
+
+        [_Exit_ Mrs. HOREHOUND.
+
+  _The Earl_ (_graciously_). I will hear you, fellow! (_Aside._) Strange
+how familiar his features seem to me!
+
+  _Horeh._ The fact is, your Lordship's celebrating the coming of hage of
+the _wrong heir_. (_Sensation--i.e., the six tenantry shift from one leg
+to the other, and murmur feebly._) Oh, I can prove it. Twenty-one years
+ago--(_slow music_)--I was in your Lordship's service as gamekeeper,
+'ead whip, and hextry waiter. My son and yours was born the selfsame
+day, and my hold dutch was selected to hact as foster-mother to the
+youthful lord. Well--(_tells a long, and not entirely original, story;
+marvellous resemblance between infants, only distinguishable by green
+and magenta bows, &c., &c._) Soon after, your Lordship discharged me at
+a moment's notice----
+
+  _The Earl_ (_haughtily_). I did, upon discovering that you were in the
+habit of surreptitiously carrying off kitchen-stuff, concealed within
+your umbrella. But proceed with your narration.
+
+  _Horeh._ I swore to be avenged, and so--(_common form again; the shifted
+bows_)--consequently, as a moment's reflection will convince you, the
+young man on the steps, in the button-'ole and tall 'at, is my lawful
+son, while the real Viscount is--(_presenting_ COLTSFOOT, _who advances
+modestly on his hands_)--'ere!
+
+        [_Renewed sensation._
+
+  _The Earl._ This is indeed a startling piece of intelligence. (_To_ Lord
+B.) And so, Sir, it appears that your whole life has been one consistent
+imposition--a gilded _lie_?
+
+  _Lord B._ Let my youth and inexperience at the time, Sir, plead as my
+best excuse!
+
+  _The E._ Nothing can excuse the fact that you--you, a low-born son of
+the people, have monopolised the training, the tenderness and education,
+which were the due of your Patrician foster-brother. (_To_ COLTSFOOT.)
+Approach, my injured, long-lost boy, and tell me how I may atone for
+these years of injustice and neglect!
+
+  _Colts._ Well, Guv'nor, if you could send out for a pot o' four arf, it
+'ud be a _beginning_, like.
+
+  _The E._ You shall have every luxury that befits your rank, but first
+remove that incongruous garb.
+
+  _Colts._ (_to_ Lord B.). These 'ere togs belong to _you_ now, young
+feller, and I reckon exchange ain't no robbery.
+
+  _Lord B._ (_with emotion, to_ Countess). Mother, can you endure to
+behold your son in tights and spangles on the very day of his majority?
+
+  _Countess_ (_coldly_). On the contrary, it is my wish to see him attired
+as soon as possible, in a more appropriate costume.
+
+  _Lord B._ (_to_ Lady R.). Rose, _you_, at least, have not changed? Tell
+me you will love me still even on the precarious summit of an acrobat's
+pole!
+
+  _Lady Rose_ (_scornfully_). Really the presumptuous familiarity of the
+lower orders is perfectly appalling!
+
+  _The Earl_ (_to_ Countess, _as_ Lord B. _and_ COLTSFOOT _retire to
+exchange costumes_). At last, Pauline, I understand why I could never
+feel towards Bullsaye the affection of a parent. Often have I reproached
+myself for a coldness I could not overcome.
+
+  _Countess._ And I too! Nature was too strong for us. But, oh, the joy of
+recovering our son--of finding him so strong, so supple, so agile. Never
+yet has our line boasted an heir who can feed himself from a fork
+strapped on to his dexter heel!
+
+  _The E._ (_with emotion_). Our beloved, boneless boy!
+
+     [_Re-enter_ COLTSFOOT _in modern dress, and_ Lord B. _in
+     tights_.
+
+  _Colts._ Don't I look slap-up--O.K. and no mistake? Oh, I _am_ 'aving a
+beano!
+
+  _All._ What easy gaiety, and unforced animation!
+
+  _The E._ My dear boy, let me present you to your _fianc�e_. Rose, my
+love, this is your _legitimate_ lover.
+
+  _Colts._ Oh, all right, _I've_ no objections--on'y there'll be ructions
+with the young woman in the tight-rope line as I've been keepin' comp'ny
+with--that's all!
+
+  _The E._ Your foster-brother will act as your substitute there.
+(_Proudly._) _My_ son must make no _m�salliance_!
+
+  _Rose_ (_timidly_). And, if it would give you any pleasure, I'm sure I
+could soon learn the tight-rope!
+
+  _Colts._ Not at _your_ time o' life, Miss, and besides, 'ang it, now I'm
+a lord, I can't have my wife doin' nothing low!
+
+  _The E._ Spoken like a true Burntalmond! And now let the revels
+re-commence.
+
+[Illustration: Lord B. in tights.]
+
+        [_Re-enter_ Mrs. Horehound.
+
+  _Horeh._ (_to_ Lord B.). Now then, stoopid, tumble, can't you--what are
+you 'ere _for_?
+
+  _Lord B._ (_to the_ Earl). Since it is your command, I obey, though it
+is ill tumbling with a heavy heart!
+
+        [_Turns head over heels laboriously._
+
+  _Colts._ Call _that_ a somersault? 'Ere, 'old my 'at (_giving tall hat
+to_ Lady R.) _I'll_ show yer 'ow to do a turn.
+
+        [_Throws a triple somersault._
+
+  _All._ What condescension! How his aristocratic superiority is betrayed,
+even in competition with those to the manner born!
+
+  _Mrs. Horeh._ (_still in ignorance of the transformation_). Halt! I have
+kept silence till now--even from my husband, but the time has come when
+I _must_ speak. Think you that if he were indeed a lord, he could turn
+such somersaults as those? No--no. I will reveal all. (_Tells same old
+story--except that she herself from ambitious motives transposed the
+infants' bows._) Now, do with me what you will!
+
+  _Horeh._ Confusion, so my ill-judged action did but redress the wrong I
+designed to effect!
+
+  _The E._ (_annoyed_). This is a serious matter, reflecting as it does
+upon the legitimacy of my lately recovered son. What proof have you,
+woman, of your preposterous allegation?
+
+  _Mrs. H._ None, my lord,--but these--
+
+        [_Exhibits two faded bunches of ribbon._
+
+  _The E._ I cannot resist such overwhelming evidence, fight against it as
+I may.
+
+  _Lord B._ (_triumphantly_). And so--oh, Father, Mother, Rose--dear, dear
+Rose--I am no acrobat, after all!
+
+  _The E._ (_sternly_). Would you were anything half so serviceable to the
+community, Sir! I have no superstitious reverence for rank, and am, I
+trust, sufficiently enlightened to discern worth and merit--even beneath
+the spangled vest of the humblest acrobat. Your foster-brother, brief as
+our acquaintance has been, has already endeared himself to all hearts,
+while you have borne a trifling reverse of fortune with sullen
+discontent and conspicuous incapacity. He has perfected himself in a
+lofty and distinguished profession during years spent by _you_, Sir, in
+idly cumbering the earth of Eton and Oxford. Shall I allow him to suffer
+by a purely accidental coincidence? Never! I owe him reparation, and it
+shall be paid to the uttermost penny. From this day, I adopt him as my
+eldest son, and the heir to my earldom, and all other real and personal
+effects. See, Robert Henry, that you treat your foster-brother as your
+senior in future!
+
+  _Colts._ (_to_ Lord B.). Way-oh, ole matey, I don't bear no malice, _I_
+don't! Give us your dooks.
+     [_Offering hand._
+
+  _The C._ Ah, Bullsaye, try to be worthy of such generosity!
+
+        [Lord B. _grasps_ COLTSFOOT'S _hand in silence_.
+
+  _Lady Rose._ And pray, understand that, whether Mr. Coltsfoot be
+viscount or acrobat, it can make no difference whatever to the
+disinterested affection with which I have lately learnt to regard him.
+
+        [_Gives her hand to_ COLTSFOOT, _who squeezes it with ardour_.
+
+  _Colts._ (_pleasantly_). Well, Father, Mother, your noble Herlship and
+Lady, foster-brother Bullsaye, and my pretty little sweetart 'ere, what
+do you all say to goin' inside and shunting a little garbage, and
+shifting a drop or so of lotion, eh?
+
+  _The E._ A most sensible suggestion, my boy. Let us make these ancient
+walls the scene of the blithest--ahem!--_beano_ they have ever yet
+beheld!
+
+     [_Cheers from Tenantry, as the_ Earl _leads the way into the
+     Castle with_ Mrs. HOREHOUND, _followed by_ HOREHOUND _with the_
+     Countess _and_ COLTSFOOT _with_ Lady ROSE, Lord BULLSAYE,
+     _discomfited and abashed, entering last as Curtain falls_.
+
+
+
+
+VII.--RECLAIMED!
+
+OR, HOW LITTLE ELFIE TAUGHT HER GRANDMOTHER.
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Lady Belledame_ (_a Dowager of the deepest dye_).
+
+    _Monkshood_ (_her Steward, and confidential Minion_).
+
+    _Little Elfie_ (_an Angel Child_). This part has been specially
+        constructed for that celebrated Infant Actress, Banjoist, and
+        Variety Com�dienne, Miss BIRDIE CALLOWCHICK.
+
+
+    SCENE--_The Panelled Room at Nightshade Hall._
+
+  _Lady Belledame_ (_discovered preparing parcels_). Old and unloved!--yes
+the longer I live, the more plainly do I perceive that I am _not_ a
+popular old woman. Have I not acquired the reputation in the County of
+being a witch? My neighbour, Sir Vevey Long, asked me publicly only the
+other day "when I would like my broom ordered," and that minx, Lady
+Violet Powdray, has pointedly mentioned old cats in my hearing!
+Pergament, my family lawyer, has declined to act for me any longer,
+merely because Monkshood rack-rented some of the tenants a little too
+energetically in the Torture Chamber--as if in these hard times one was
+not justified in putting the screw on! Then the villagers scowl when I
+pass; the very children shrink from me--[_A childish Voice outside
+window,_ "Yah, 'oo sold 'erself to Old Bogie for a pound o' tea an' a
+set o' noo teeth?"]--that is, when they do not insult me by suggestions
+of bargains that are not even businesslike! No matter--I will be avenged
+upon them all--ay, all! 'Tis Christmas-time--the season at which
+sentimental fools exchange gifts and good wishes. For once I, too, will
+distribute a few seasonable presents.... (_Inspecting parcels._) Are my
+arrangements complete? The bundle of choice cigars, in each of which a
+charge of nitro-glycerine has been dexterously inserted? The lip-salve,
+made up from my own prescription with corrosive sublimate by a venal
+chemist in the vicinity? The art flower-pot, containing a fine specimen
+of the Upas plant, swathed in impermeable sacking? The sweets compounded
+with sugar of lead? The packet of best ratsbane? Yes, nothing has been
+omitted. Now to summon my faithful Monkshood.... Ha! he is already at
+hand.
+
+        [_Chord as_ MONKSHOOD _enters_.
+
+  _Monkshood._ Your Ladyship, a child, whose sole luggage is a small
+bandbox and a large banjo, is without, and requests the favour of a
+personal interview.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_reproachfully_). And you, who have been with me all these
+years, and know my ways, omitted to let loose the bloodhounds? You grow
+careless, Monkshood!
+
+  _Monks._ (_wounded_). Your Ladyship is unjust--I _did_ unloose the
+bloodhounds; but the ferocious animals merely sat up and begged. The
+child had took the precaution to provide herself with a bun!
+
+  _Lady B._ No matter, she must be removed--I care not how.
+
+  _Monks._ There may be room for one more--a little one--in the old well.
+The child mentioned that she was your Ladyship's granddaughter, but I
+presume that will make no difference?
+
+  _Lady B._ (_disquieted_). What!--then she must be the child of my only
+son Poldoodle, whom, for refusing to cut off the entail, I had falsely
+accused of adulterating milk, and transported beyond the seas! She
+comes hither to denounce and reproach me! Monkshood, she must not leave
+this place alive--you hear?
+
+  _Monks._ I require no second bidding--ha, the child ... she comes!
+
+     [_Chord. Little_ ELFIE _trips in with touching
+     self-confidence._
+
+  _Elfie_ (_in a charming little Cockney accent_). Yes, Grandma, it's
+me--little Elfie, come all the way from Australia to see you, because I
+thought you must be sow lownly all by yourself! My Papa often told me
+what a long score he owed you, and how he hoped to pay you off if he
+lived. But he went out to business one day--Pa was a bushranger, you
+know, and worked--oh, _so_ hard; and never came back to his little
+Elfie, so poor little Elfie has come to live with you!
+
+  _Monks._ Will you have the child removed now, my Lady?
+
+  _Lady B._ (_undecidedly_). Not now--not yet; I have other work for you.
+These Christmas gifts, to be distributed amongst my good friends and
+neighbours (_handing parcels_). First, this bundle of cigars to Sir
+Vevey Long with my best wishes that such a connoisseur in tobacco may
+find them sufficiently strong. The salve for Lady Violet Powdray, with
+my love, and it should be rubbed on the last thing at night. The plant
+you will take to the little Pergaments--'twill serve them for a
+Christmas tree. This packet to be diluted in a barrel of beer, which you
+will see broached upon the village green; these sweetmeats for
+distribution among the most deserving of the school-children.
+
+  _Elfie_ (_throwing her arms around Lady B.'s neck_). I _do_ like you,
+Grandma, you have such a kind face! And oh, what pains you must have
+taken to find something that will do for everybody!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_disengaging herself peevishly_). Yes, yes, child. I trust
+that what I have chosen will indeed do for everybody,--but I do not
+like to be messed about. Monkshood, you know what you have to do.
+
+  _Elfie._ Oh, I am sure he does, Grandma! See how benevolently he smiles.
+You're such a good old man, you will take care that all the poor people
+are fed, _won't_ you?
+
+[Illustration: Little Elfie.]
+
+  _Monks._ (_with a sinister smile_). Ah! Missie, I've 'elped to settle a
+many people's 'ash in my time!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_innocently_). What, do they all get hash? How nice! I like
+hash,--but what else do you give them?
+
+  _Monks._ (_grimly_). Gruel, Missie. (_Aside._) I must get out of this,
+or this innocent child's prattle will unman me!
+
+        [_Exit with parcels._
+
+  _Elfie._ You seem so sad and troubled, Grandma. Let me sing you one of
+the songs with which I drew a smile from poor dear Pa in happier days.
+
+  _Lady B._ No, no, some other time. (_Aside._) Pshaw! why should I dread
+the effect of her simple melodies? (_Aloud._) Sing, child, if you will.
+
+  _Elfie._ How glad I am that I brought my banjo!    [_Sings._
+
+    _Dar is a lubly yaller gal dat tickles me to deff;
+    She'll dance de room ob darkies down, and take away deir breff.
+    When she sits down to supper, ebery coloured gemple-man,
+    As she gets her upper lip o'er a plate o' "possom dip," cries,
+        "Woa, Lucindy Ann!"_ (Chorus, dear Granny!)
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    _Woa, Lucindy!   Woa, Lucindy!   Woa, Lucindy Ann!
+    At de rate dat you are stuffin, you will nebber leave us nuffin;
+         so woa, Miss Sindy Ann!_
+
+  _To Lady B._ (_who, after joining in chorus with deep emotion, has burst
+into tears_). Why, you are _weeping_, dear Grandmother!
+
+  _Lady B._ Nay, 'tis nothing, child--but have you no songs which are less
+sad?
+
+  _Elfie._ Oh, yes, I know plenty of plantation ditties more cheerful than
+that. (_Sings._)
+
+    _Oh, I hear a gentle whisper from de days ob long ago,
+      When I used to be a happy darkie slave.
+                                            [Trump-a-trump!
+    But now I'se got to labour wif the shovel an' de hoe--
+      For ole Massa lies a sleepin' in his grave!
+                                            [Trump-trump!_
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    _Poor ole Massa!   Poor ole Massa!_   (Pianissimo.)   _Poor ole
+    Massa, that I nebber more shall see!
+    He was let off by de Jury, Way down in old Missouri--But
+    dey lynched him on a persimmon tree._
+
+  _Elfie._ You smile at last, dear Grandma! I would sing to you again, but
+I am so very, very sleepy!
+
+  _Lady B._ Poor child, you have had a long journey. Rest awhile on this
+couch, and I will arrange this screen so as to protect your slumbers.
+     [_Leads little_ ELFIE _to couch_.
+
+  _Elfie_ (_sleepily_). Thanks, dear Grandma, thanks.... Now I shall go to
+sleep, and dream of you, and the dogs, and angels. I so often dream
+about angels--but that is generally after supper, and to-night I have
+had no supper.... But never mind.... Good night, Grannie, good night ...
+goo'ni' ... goo ... goo!
+     [_She sinks softly to sleep._
+
+  _Lady B._ And I was about to set the bloodhounds upon this little
+sunbeam! 'Tis long since these grim walls have echoed strains so sweet
+as hers. (_Croons._) "Woa, Lucindy" &c. "Dey tried him by a Jury, way
+down in ole Missouri, an' dey hung him to a possumdip tree!" (_Goes to
+couch, and gazes on the little sleeper._) How peacefully she slumbers!
+What a change has come over me in one short hour!--my withered heart is
+sending up green shoots of tenderness, of love, and hope! Let me try
+henceforth to be worthy of this dear child's affection and respect.
+(_Turns, and sees_ MONKSHOOD.) Ha, Monkshood! Then there is time yet!
+Those parcels ... quick, quick!--the parcels!----
+
+  _Monks_ (_impassively_). Have been left as you instructed, my Lady.
+
+     [_Chord._ Lady B. _staggers back, gasping, into chair. Little_
+     ELFIE _awakes behind screen, and rubs her eyes_.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_in a hoarse whisper_). You--you have left the parcels ...
+all--_all?_ Tell me--how were they received? Speak low--I would not
+that yonder child should awake and hear!
+
+  _Little Elfie_ (_behind the screen, very wide awake indeed_). Dear, good
+old Grannie--she would conceal her generosity--even from _me_!
+(_Loudly._) She little thinks that I am overhearing all!
+
+  _Monks._ I could have sworn I heard whispering.
+
+  _Lady B._ Nay, you are mistaken--'twas but the wind in the old wainscot.
+(_Aside._) He is quite capable of destroying that innocent child; but
+old and attached servant as he is, there are liberties I still know how
+to forbid. (_To_ M.) Your story--quick!
+
+  _Monks._ First, I delivered the cigars to Sir Vevey Long, whom I found
+under his verandah. He seemed surprised and gratified by the gift,
+selected a weed, and was proceeding to light it, whilst he showed a
+desire to converse familiarly with me. 'Astily excusing myself, I drove
+away, when----
+
+  _Lady B._ When _what_? Do not torture a wretched old woman!
+
+  _Monks._ When I heard a loud report behind me, and, in the portion of a
+brace, two waistcoat-buttons, and half a slipper, which hurtled past my
+ears, I recognised all that was mortal of the late Sir Vevey. You mixed
+them cigars uncommon strong, m'Lady.
+
+  _Elfie_ (_aside_). Can it be? But no, no. I will _not_ believe it. I am
+sure that dear Granny meant no harm!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_with a grim pride she cannot wholly repress_). I have
+devoted some study to the subject of explosives. 'Tis another triumph to
+the Anti-tobacconists. And what of Lady Violet Powdray--did she apply
+the salve?
+
+  _Monks._ Judging from the 'eartrending 'owls which proceeded from
+Carmine Cottage, the salve was producing the desired result. Her
+Ladyship, 'owever, terminated her sufferings somewhat prematoor by
+jumping out of a top winder just as I was taking my departure----
+
+  _Lady B._ She should have died hereafter--but no matter ... and the
+Upas-tree?----
+
+  _Monks._----was presented to the Pergaments, who unpacked it, and loaded
+its branches with toys and tapers; after which Mr. Pergament, Mrs. P.,
+and all the little Pergaments joined 'ands, and danced round it in
+light'arted glee. (_In a sombre tone._) They little knoo as how it was
+their dance of death!
+
+  _Lady B._ That knowledge will come! And the beer, Monkshood--you saw it
+broached?
+
+  _Monks._ Upon the village green; the mortality is still spreading, it
+being found impossible to undo the knots in which the victims have tied
+themselves. The sweetmeats were likewise distributed, and the floor of
+the hinfant-school now resembles one vast fly-paper.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_with a touch of remorse_). The children too! Was not my
+little Elfie once an infant? Ah me, ah me!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_aside_). Once--but that was long, long ago. And, oh, _how_
+disappointed I am in poor dear Grandmama!
+
+  _Lady B._ Monkshood, you should not have done these things--you should
+have saved me from myself. You _must_ have known how greatly all this
+would increase my unpopularity in the neighbourhood.
+
+  _Monks._ (_sulkily_). And this is my reward for obeying orders! Take
+care, my Lady. It suits you now to throw me aside like a--(_casting
+about for an original simile_)--like a old glove, because this innocent
+grandchild of yours has touched your flinty 'art. But where will _you_
+be when she learns----?
+
+  _Lady B._ (_in agony_). Ah, no, Monkshood, good, faithful Monkshood,
+she must never know that! Think, Monkshood, you would not tell her that
+the Grandmother to whom she looks up with such touching, childlike love,
+was a--_homicide_--you would not do that?
+
+  _Monks._ Some would say even 'omicide was not too black a name for all
+you've done. (Lady BELLEDAME _shudders_.) I might tell Miss Elfie how
+you've blowed up a live Baronet, corrosive sublimated a gentle Lady,
+honly for 'aving, in a moment of candour, called you a hold cat, and
+distributed pison in a variety of forms about this smiling village; and,
+if that don't inspire her with distrust, I don't know the nature of
+children, that's all! I might tell her, I say, and, if I'm to keep my
+mouth shut, I shall expect it to be considered in my wages.
+
+  _Lady B._ I knew you had a good heart! I will pay you
+anything--anything, provided you shield my guilt from her ... wait, you
+shall have gold, gold, Monkshood, gold!
+
+     [_Chord. Little_ ELFIE _suddenly comes from behind screen;
+     limelight on her. The other two shrink back._
+
+  _Elfie._ Do not give that bad old man money, Grandmother, for it will
+only be wasted.
+
+  _Lady B._ Speak, child!--how much do you know?
+
+  _Elfie._ All!    [_Chord._ Lady B. _collapses on chair_.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_with an effort_). And now, Elfie, that you know, you scorn
+and hate your poor old Grandmother--is it not so?
+
+  _Elfie._ It is wrong to hate one's Grandmother, whatever she does. At
+first when I heard, I was very, very sorry. I _did_ think it was most
+unkind of you. But now, oh, I _can't_ believe that you had not some
+good, wise motive, in acting as you did!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_in conscience-stricken aside_). Even _this_ cannot shatter
+her artless faith ... Oh, wretch, wretch!
+
+        [_Covers her face._
+
+  _Monks._ Motive--I believe you there, Missie. Why, she went and insured
+all their lives aforehand, _she_ did.
+
+  _Lady B._ Monkshood, in pity hold your peace!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_her face beaming_). I knew it--I was sure of it! Oh, Granny,
+my dear, kind old Granny, you insured their lives first, so that no real
+harm could possibly happen to them--oh, I am so happy!
+
+[Illustration: "Good-bye, Good-bye!"]
+
+  _Lady B._ (_aside_). What shall I say? Merciful Powers, what _shall_ I
+say to her?
+     [_Disturbed sounds without._
+
+  _Monks._ I don't know what you'd better _say_, but I can tell you what
+your Ladyship had better _do_--and that is, take your 'ook while you
+can. Even now the outraged populace approaches, to wreak a hawful
+vengeance upon your guilty 'ed!
+     [_Melodramatic music._
+
+  _Lady B._ (_distractedly_). A mob! I cannot face them--they will tear me
+limb from limb. At my age I could not survive such an indignity as that!
+Hide me, Monkshood--help me to escape!
+
+  _Monks._ There is a secret underground passage, known only to myself,
+communicating with the nearest railway station. I will point it out, and
+personally conduct your Ladyship--for a consideration--one thousand
+pounds down.
+
+        [_The noise increases._
+
+  _Elfie._ No, Granny, don't trust him! Be calm and brave. Await the mob
+here. Leave it all to me. I will explain everything to them--how you
+meant no ill,--how, at the very time they thought you were meditating an
+injury, you were actually spending money in insuring all their lives.
+When I tell them _that_----
+
+  _Monks._ Ah, you tell 'em that, and see. It's too late now--they are
+here!
+
+     [_Shouts without._ Lady B. _crouches on floor. Little_ ELFIE
+     _goes to the window, throws open the shutters, and stands on
+     balcony in her fluttering white robe, and the limelight_.
+
+  _Elfie._ Yes, they are here. Why, they are carrying torches!--(Lady B.
+_groans_)--and banners, too! I think they have a band.... Who is that
+tall, stout gentleman, in the white hat, on horseback, and the lady in a
+pony-trap, with, oh, such a beautiful complexion! There is an
+inscription on one of the flags--I can read it quite plainly. "_Thanks
+to the generous Donor!_" (That must be _you_, Grandmother!) And there
+are children who dance, and scatter flowers. They are asking for a
+speech. (_Speaking off._) "If you please, Ladies and Gentlemen, my
+Grandmama is not at all well, but she wishes me to say she wishes you a
+Merry Christmas, and is very glad you all like your presents so much.
+Good-bye, _good_-bye!" (_Returning down Stage._) Now they have gone
+away, Granny.... They did look so grateful!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_bewildered_). What is this! Sir Vevey, Lady Violet,--alive,
+well? This deputation of gratitude? Am I mad, dreaming--or what does it
+all mean?
+
+  _Monks._ (_doggedly_). It means that the sight of this 'ere angel child
+recalled me to a sense of what I might be exposin' myself to by carrying
+out your Ladyship's commands; and so I took the liberty of substitootin
+gifts more calculated to inspire gratitude in their recipients--that's
+what it means.
+
+  _Lady B._ Wretch!--then you have disobeyed me? You leave this day month!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_pleading_). Nay, Grandmother, bear with him, for has not his
+disobedience spared you from acts that you might some day have
+regretted?... There, Mr. Butler, Granny forgives you--see, she holds out
+her hand, and here's mine; and now----
+
+  _Lady B._ (_smiling tenderly_). Now you shall sing us "_Woa, Lucinda!_"
+
+     [_Little_ ELFIE _fetches her banjo, and sings, "Woa, Lucinda!"
+     her Grandmother and the aged Steward joining in the dance and
+     chorus, and embracing the child, to form picture as Curtain
+     falls_.
+
+
+
+
+VIII.--JACK PARKER;
+
+OR, THE BULL WHO KNEW HIS BUSINESS.
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Jack Parker_ ("_was a cruel boy, For mischief was his sole
+                  employ._"--_Vide_) Miss JANE TAYLOR.
+
+    _Miss Lydia Banks_ ("_though very young, Will never do what's
+                       rude or wrong._"--_Ditto._)
+
+    _Farmer Banks_        }  By the Brothers GRIFFITHS.
+    _Farmer Banks's Bull_ }
+
+    _Chorus of Farm Hands._
+
+
+     SCENE.--_A Farmyard._ R. _a stall from which the head of the
+     Bull is visible above the half-door. Enter_ Farmer BANKS _with
+     a cudgel_.
+
+  _Farmer B._ (_moodily_). When roots are quiet, and cereals are dull,
+    I vent my irritation on the Bull.
+
+        [_We have_ Miss TAYLOR'S _own authority for this rhyme_.
+
+    Come hup, you beast!
+
+     [_Opens stall and flourishes cudgel--the Bull comes forward
+     with an air of deliberate defiance._
+
+    Oh, turning narsty, is he?
+
+        [_Apologetically to Bull._
+
+    Another time will do! I see you're busy!
+
+     [_The Bull, after some consideration, decides to accept this
+     retractation, and retreats with dignity to his stall, the door
+     of which he carefully fastens after him. Exit_ Farmer BANKS,
+     L., _as_ LYDIA BANKS _enters_ R. _accompanied by Chorus. The
+     Bull exhibits the liveliest interest in her proceedings, as he
+     looks on, with his forelegs folded easily upon the top of the
+     door._
+
+_Song_--LYDIA BANKS (_in Polka time_).
+
+    I'm the child by Miss Jane Taylor sung;
+    Unnaturally good for one so young--
+    A pattern for the people that I go among,
+    With my moral little tags on the tip of my tongue.
+    And I often feel afraid that I shan't live long,
+    For I never do a thing that's rude or wrong!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the Bull beats time_).
+      As a general rule, one _doesn't_ live long,
+      If you never do a thing that's rude or wrong!
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    My words are all with wisdom fraught,
+    To make polite replies I've sought;
+    And learned by independent thought,
+    That a pinafore, inked, is good for nought.
+    So wonderfully well have I been taught,
+    That I turn my toes as children ought!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the Bull dances_).
+      This moral lesson she's been taught--
+      She turns her toes as children ought!
+
+  _Lydia_ (_sweetly_). Yes, I'm the Farmer's daughter--Lydia Banks;
+    No person ever caught me playing pranks!
+    I'm loved by all the live-stock on the farm,
+
+        [_Ironical applause from the Bull._
+
+    Pigeons I've plucked will perch upon my arm,
+    And pigs at my approach sit up and beg.
+
+        [_Business by Bull._
+
+    For me the partial peacock saves his egg,
+    No sheep e'er snaps if _I_ attempt to touch her,
+    Lambs _like_ it when I lead them to the butcher!
+    Each morn I milk my rams beneath the shed,
+    While rabbits flutter twittering round my head,
+    And, as befits a dairy-farmer's daughter,
+    What milk I get I supplement with water,
+
+     [_A huge Shadow is thrown on the road outside_; LYDIA _starts_.
+
+    Whose shadow is it makes the highway darker?
+    That bullet head! those ears! it is----Jack Parker!
+
+     [_Chord. The Chorus flee in dismay, as_ JACK _enters with a
+     reckless swagger_.
+
+_Song_--JACK PARKER.
+
+    I'm loafing about, and I very much doubt
+    If my excellent Ma is aware that I'm out;
+    My time I employ in attempts to annoy,
+    And I'm not what you'd call an agreeable boy!
+        I shoe the cats with walnut-shells;
+          Tin cans to curs I tie;
+        Ring furious knells at front-door bells--
+          Then round the corner fly!
+    'Neath donkeys' tails I fasten furze,
+      Or timid horsemen scare;
+    If chance occurs, I stock with burrs
+      My little Sister's hair!
+
+        [_The Bull shakes his head reprovingly._
+
+    Such tricks give me joy without any alloy,
+    But they do not denote an agreeable boy!
+
+     [_As_ JACK PARKER _concludes, the Bull ducks cautiously below
+     the half-door, while_ LYDIA _conceals herself behind the pump_,
+     L.C.
+
+  _Jack_ (_wandering about stage discontentedly_). I thought at least
+        there'd be _some_ beasts to badger here!
+    Call this a farm--there ain't a blooming spadger here!
+
+        [_Approaches stall--Bull raises head suddenly._
+
+    A bull! This is a lark I've long awaited!
+    He's in a stable, so he should be baited.
+
+     [_The Bull shows symptoms of acute depression at this jeu de
+     mots_; LYDIA _comes forward indignantly_.
+
+  _Lydia._ I _can't_ stand by and see that poor bull suffer!
+    Excitement's sure to make his beef taste tougher!
+
+        [_The Bull emphatically corroborates this statement._
+
+    Be warned by Miss Jane Taylor; fractured skulls
+    Invariably come from teasing bulls!
+    So let that door alone, nor lift the latchet;
+    For if the bull gets out--why, then you'll catch it.
+
+  _Jack._ A fractured skull? Yah, don't believe a word of it!
+
+     [_Raises latchet: chord; Bull comes slowly out, and crouches
+     ominously_; JACK _retreats, and takes refuge on top of pump:
+     the Bull, after scratching his back with his off foreleg, makes
+     a sudden rush at_ LYDIA.
+
+  _Lydia_ (_as she evades it_). Here, help!--it's chasing me!--it's
+        too absurd of it!
+    Go away, Bull--with _me_ you have no quarrel!
+
+     [_The Bull intimates that he is acting from a deep sense of
+     duty._
+
+  _Lydia_ (_impatiently_). You stupid thing, you're _ruining_ the moral!
+
+        [_The Bull persists obstinately in his pursuit._
+
+  _Jack_ (_from top of pump_). Well dodged, Miss Banks! although
+        the Bull I'll back!
+
+        [_Enter_ Farm-hands.
+
+  _Lydia._ Come quick--this Bull's mistaking me for Jack!
+
+  _Jack._ He knows his business best, I shouldn't wonder.
+
+  _Farm-hands_ (_philosophically_). He ain't the sort of Bull
+        to make a blunder.
+
+        [_They look on._
+
+  _Lydia_ (_panting._) Such violent exercise will soon exhaust me!
+
+        [_The Bull comes behind her._
+
+    Oh, Bull, it _is_ unkind of you ... you've _tossed_ me!
+
+     [_Falls on ground, while the Bull stands over her, in readiness
+     to give the coup de grace_; LYDIA _calls for help_.
+
+  _A Farm-hand_ (_encouragingly_). Nay, Miss, he seems moor
+        sensible nor surly--
+    He knows as how good children perish early!
+
+     [_The Bull nods in acknowledgment that he is at last
+     understood, and slaps his chest with his forelegs._
+
+  _Lydia._ Bull, I'll turn naughty, if you'll but be lenient!
+    Goodness, I see, is sometimes inconvenient.
+    I promise you henceforth I'll _try_, at any rate,
+    To act like children who are unregenerate!
+
+[Illustration: On top of the Pump.]
+
+     [_The Bull, after turning this over, decides to accept a
+     compromise._
+
+  _Jack._ And, Lydia, when you ready for a lark are,
+    Just give a chyhike to your friend--Jack Parker!
+
+        [_They shake hands warmly._
+
+
+FINALE.
+
+  _Lydia._ I thought to slowly fade away so calm and beautiful.
+      (Though I didn't mean to go just yet);
+    But you get no chance for pathos when you're chivied by a bull!
+      (So I thought I wouldn't go just yet.)
+    For I did feel so upset, when I found that all you get
+    By the exercise of virtue, is that bulls will come and hurt you!
+      That I thought I wouldn't go just yet!
+
+  _Chorus._ We hear, with some regret,
+      That she doesn't mean to go just yet.
+      But a Bull with horns that hurt you
+      Is a poor return for virtue,
+      So she's wiser not to go just yet!
+
+     [_The Bull rises on his hindlegs, and gives a forehoof each to_
+     LYDIA _and_ JACK, _who dance wildly round and round as the
+     Curtain falls_.
+
+[N.B.--Music-hall Managers are warned that the morality of this
+particular Drama may possibly be called in question by some members of
+the L. C. C.]
+
+
+
+
+IX.--UNDER THE HARROW.
+
+_A CONVENTIONAL COMEDY-MELODRAMA, IN TWO ACTS._
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Sir Poshbury Puddock (a haughty and high-minded Baronet)._
+
+    _Verbena Puddock (his Daughter)._
+
+    _Lord Bleshugh (her Lover)._
+
+    _Spiker (a needy and unscrupulous Adventurer)._
+
+    _Blethers (an ancient and attached Domestic)._
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+    SCENE--_The Morning Room at Natterjack Hall, Toadley-le-Hole;
+    large window open at back, with heavy practicable sash._
+
+_Enter_ BLETHERS.
+
+  _Blethers._ Sir Poshbury's birthday to-day--his birthday!--and the
+gentry giving of him presents. Oh, Lor! if they only knew what _I_ could
+tell 'em!... Ah, and _must_ tell, too, before long--but not yet--not
+yet!
+     [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ LORD BLESHUGH _and_ VERBENA.
+
+  _Verb._ Yes, Papa is forty to-day; (_innocently_) fancy living to _that_
+age! The tenants have presented him with a handsome jar of mixed
+pickles, with an appropriate inscription. Papa is loved and respected by
+every one. And I--well, I have made him a little housewife, containing
+needles and thread ... See!
+     [_Shows it._
+
+  _Lord Blesh._ (_tenderly_). I say, I--I wish you would make _me_ a
+little housewife!
+
+        [_Comedy love-dialogue omitted owing to want of space._
+
+  _Verb._ Oh, do look!--there's Papa crossing the lawn with, oh, such a
+horrid man following him!
+
+  _Lord B._ Regular bounder. Shocking bad hat!
+
+  _Verb._ Not so bad as his boots, and _they_ are not so bad as his face!
+Why doesn't Papa order him to go away? Oh, he is actually inviting him
+in!
+
+_Enter_ Sir POSHBURY, _gloomy and constrained, with_ SPIKER, _who is
+jaunty, and somewhat over familiar._
+
+  _Spiker_ (_sitting on the piano, and dusting his boots with his
+handkerchief_). Cosy little shanty you've got here, Puddock--very tasty!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_with a gulp_). I am--ha--delighted that you approve of it!
+Ah, Verbena!
+     [_Kisses her on forehead._
+
+  _Spiker._ Your daughter, eh? Pooty gal. Introduce me.
+
+        [_Sir_ POSH. _introduces him--with an effort._
+
+  _Verbena_ (_coldly_). How do you do? Papa, did you know that the
+sashline of this window was broken? If it is not mended, it will fall on
+somebody's head, and perhaps kill him!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_absently_). Yes--yes, it shall be attended to; but leave us,
+my child, go. Bleshugh, this--er--gentleman and I have business of
+importance to discuss.
+
+  _Spiker._ Don't let us drive you away, Miss; your Pa and me are only
+talking over old times, that's all--eh, Posh?
+
+  _Sir P._ (_in a tortured aside_). Have a care, Sir, don't drive me too
+far! (_To_ VERB.) Leave us, I say. (Lord B. _and_ VERB. _go out, raising
+their eyebrows._) Now, Sir, what is this secret you profess to have
+discovered?
+
+  _Spiker._ Oh, a mere nothing. (_Takes out a cigar._) Got a light about
+you? Thanks. Perhaps you don't recollect twenty-seven years ago this
+very day, travelling from Edgware Road to Baker Street, by the
+Underground Railway?
+
+  _Sir P._ Perfectly; it was my thirteenth birthday, and I celebrated the
+event by a visit to Madame Tussaud's.
+
+[Illustration: Spiker Introduced.]
+
+  _Spiker._ Exactly; it was your thirteenth birthday, and you travelled
+second-class with a half-ticket--(_meaningly_)--on your thirteenth
+birthday.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_terribly agitated_). Fiend that you are, how came you to
+learn this?
+
+  _Spiker._ Very simple. I was at that time in the temporary position of
+ticket-collector at Baker Street. In the exuberance of boyhood, you
+cheeked me. I swore to be even with you some day.
+
+  _Sir P._ Even if--if your accusation were well-founded, how are you
+going to prove it?
+
+  _Sp._ Oh, that's easy! I preserved the half-ticket, on the chance that I
+should require it as evidence hereafter.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_aside_). And so the one error of an otherwise blameless
+boyhood has found me out--at last! (_To_ SPIKER.) I fear you not; my
+crime--if crime indeed it was--is surely condoned by twenty-seven long
+years of unimpeachable integrity!
+
+  _Sp._ Bye-laws are Bye-laws, old Buck! there's no Statute of Limitations
+in criminal offences that ever _I_ heard of! Nothing can alter the fact
+that you, being turned thirteen, obtained a half-ticket by a false
+representation that you were under age. A line from me, even now,
+denouncing you to the Traffic Superintendent, and I'm very much
+afraid----
+
+  _Sir P._ (_writhing_). Spiker, my--my dear friend, you won't do
+that--you won't expose me? Think of my age, my position, my daughter!
+
+  _Sp._ Ah, now you've touched the right chord! I _was_ thinking of your
+daughter--a nice lady-like gal--I don't mind telling you she fetched me,
+Sir, at the first glance. Give me her hand, and I burn the compromising
+half-ticket before your eyes on our return from church after the
+wedding. Come, that's a fair offer!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_indignantly_). My child, the ripening apple of my failing
+eye, to be sacrificed to a blackmailing blackguard like you! Never while
+I live!
+
+  _Sp._ Just as you please; and, if you will kindly oblige me with writing
+materials, I will just drop a line to the Traffic Superintendent----
+
+  _Sir P._ (_hoarsely_). No, no; not _that_.... Wait, listen; I--I will
+speak to my daughter. I promise nothing; but if her heart is still her
+own to give, she may, (mind, I do not say she _will_,) be induced to
+link her lot to yours, though I shall not attempt to influence her in
+any way--in _any_ way.
+
+  _Sp._ Well, you know your own business best, old Cockalorum. Here comes
+the young lady, so I'll leave you to manage this delicate affair alone.
+Ta-ta. I shan't be far off.
+
+        [_Swaggers insolently out as_ VERB. _enters._
+
+  _Sir P._ My child, I have just received an offer for your hand. I know
+not if you will consent?
+
+  _Verb._ I can guess who has made that offer, and why. I consent with all
+my heart, dear Papa.
+
+  _Sir P._ Can I trust my ears! You consent? Noble girl!
+
+        [_He embraces her._
+
+  _Verb._ I was quite sure dear Bleshugh meant to speak, and I _do_ love
+him very much.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_starting_). It is not Lord Bleshugh, my child, but Mr. Samuel
+Spiker, the gentleman (for he is at heart a gentleman) whom I introduced
+to you just now.
+
+  _Verb._ I have seen so little of him, Papa, I cannot love him--you must
+really excuse me!
+
+  _Sir P._ Ah, but you will, my darling, you _will_--I know your unselfish
+nature--you will, to save your poor old dad from a terrible disgrace ...
+yes, _disgrace_, listen! Twenty-seven years ago--(_he tells her all_).
+Verbena, at this very moment, there is a subscription on foot in the
+county to present me with my photograph, done by an itinerant
+photographer of the highest eminence, and framed and glazed ready for
+hanging. Is that photograph never to know the nail which even now awaits
+it? Can you not surrender a passing girlish fancy, to spare your fond
+old father's fame? Mr. Spiker is peculiar, perhaps, in many ways--not
+quite of our _monde_--but he loves you sincerely, my child, and that is
+in itself a recommendation. Ah, I see--my prayers are vain ... be
+happy, then. As for me, let the police come--I am ready!
+     [_Weeps._
+
+  _Verb._ Not so, Papa; I will marry this Mr. Spiker, since it is your
+wish.
+     [Sir POSH. _dries his eyes._
+
+  _Sir P._ Here, Spiker, my dear fellow, it is all right. Come in. She
+accepts you.
+
+_Enter_ SPIKER.
+
+  _Sp._ Thought she would. Sensible little gal! Well, Miss, you shan't
+regret it. Bless you, we'll be as chummy together as a couple of little
+dicky-birds.
+
+  _Verb._ Mr. Spiker, let us understand one another. I will do my best to
+be a good wife to you--but chumminess is not mine to give, nor can I
+promise ever to be your dicky-bird.
+
+_Enter_ LORD BLESHUGH.
+
+  _Lord B._ Sir Poshbury, may I have five minutes with you? Verbena, you
+need not go. (_Looking at_ SPIKER.) Perhaps this person will kindly
+relieve us of his presence.
+
+  _Sp._ Sorry to disoblige, old fellow, but I'm on duty where Miss Verbena
+is now, you see, as she's just promised to be my wife.
+
+  _Lord B._ _Your_ wife!
+
+  _Verb._ (_faintly_). Yes, Lord Bleshugh, his _wife_!
+
+  _Sir P._ Yes, my poor boy, _his_ wife!
+
+     [VERBENA _totters, and falls heavily in a dead faint,_ R.C.,
+     _upsetting a flower-stand;_ LORD BLESHUGH _staggers, and swoons
+     on sofa, C., overturning a table of knicknacks;_ SIR POSHBURY
+     _sinks into chair,_ L.C., _and covers his face with his hands._
+
+  _Sp._ (_looking down on them triumphantly_). Under the Harrow, by Gad!
+Under the Harrow!
+
+        [_Curtain, and end of Act I._
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+    SCENE--_Same as in Act I.; viz., the Morning-Room at Natterjack
+    Hall. Evening of same day. Enter_ BLETHERS.
+
+  _Blethers._ Another of Sir Poshbury's birthdays almost gone--and my
+secret still untold! (_Dodders._) I can't keep it up much longer.... Ha,
+here comes his Lordship--he does look mortal bad, that he do! Miss
+Verbena ain't treated him too well, from all I can hear, poor young
+feller!
+
+_Enter_ LORD BLESHUGH.
+
+  _Lord Bleshugh._ Blethers, by the memory of the innumerable half-crowns
+that have passed between us, be my friend now--I have no others left.
+Persuade your young Mistress to come hither--you need not tell her _I_
+am here, you understand. Be discreet, and this florin shall be yours!
+
+  _Blethers._ Leave it to me, my lord. I'd tell a lie for less than that,
+any day, old as I am!
+     [_Exit._
+
+  _Lord Bl._ I cannot rest till I have heard from her own lips that the
+past few hours have been nothing but a horrible dream.... She is coming!
+Now for the truth!
+
+_Enter_ VERBENA.
+
+  _Verbena._ Papa, did you want me? (_Recognises Lord B.--controls herself
+to a cold formality._) My lord, to what do I owe this--this unexpected
+intrusion?
+     [_Pants violently._
+
+  _Lord Bl._ Verbena, tell me, you cannot really prefer that seedy snob in
+the burst boots to me?
+
+  _Verb._ (_aside_). How can I tell him the truth without betraying dear
+Papa? No, I must lie, though it kills me. (_To Lord B._) Lord Bleshugh,
+I have been trifling with you. I--I never loved you.
+
+  _Lord B._ I see, and all the while your heart was given to a howling
+cad?
+
+  _Verb._ And if it was, who can account for the vagaries of a girlish
+fancy! We women are capricious beings, you know. (_With hysterical
+gaiety._) But you are unjust to Mr. Spiker--he has not _yet_ howled in
+_my_ presence--(_aside_)--though I very nearly did in _his_!
+
+  _Lord B._ And you really love him?
+
+  _Verb._ I--I love him. (_Aside._) My heart will break!
+
+  _Lord B._ Then I have no more to say. Farewell, Verbena! Be as happy as
+the knowledge that you have wrecked one of the brightest careers, and
+soured one of the sweetest natures in the county, will permit. (_Goes up
+stage, and returns._) A few days since you presented me with a cloth
+pen-wiper, in the shape of a dog of unknown breed. If you will kindly
+wait here for half-an-hour, I shall have much pleasure in returning a
+memento which I have no longer the right to retain, and there are
+several little things I gave you which I can take back with me at the
+same time, if you will have them put up in readiness.
+     [_Exit._
+
+  _Verbena._ Oh, he is cruel, cruel! but I shall keep the little bone
+yard-measure, and the diamond pig--they are all I have to remind me of
+him!
+
+_Enter_ SPIKER, _slightly intoxicated._
+
+  _Spiker._ (_throwing himself on sofa without seeing Verb._) I don' know
+how it is, but I feel precioush shleepy, somehow. P'raps I _did_ partake
+lil' too freely of Sir Poshbury's gen'rous Burgundy. Wunner why they
+call it "gen'rous"--it didn't give _me_ anything--'cept a bloomin'
+headache! However, I punished it, and old Poshbury had to look on and
+let me. He-he! (_Examining his hand._) Who'd think, to look at thish
+thumb, that there was a real live Baronet squirmin' under it. But there
+ish!
+     [_Snores._
+
+[Illustration: Spiker spiked.]
+
+  _Verb._ (_bitterly_). And _that_ thing is my affianced husband Ah, no I
+cannot go through with it, he is _too_ repulsive! If I could but find a
+way to free myself without compromising poor Papa. The sofa-cushion!
+_Dare_ I? It would be quite painless.... Surely the removal of such an
+odious wretch cannot be _Murder_.... I will! (_Slow music. She gets a
+cushion, and presses it tightly over_ SPIKER'S _head._) Oh, I _wish_ he
+wouldn't gurgle like that, and how he does kick! He cannot even die like
+a gentleman! (SPIKER'S _kicks become more and more feeble and eventually
+cease._) How still he lies! I almost wish ... Mr. Spiker, Mr.
+Spi-ker!... no answer--oh, I really _have_ suffocated him! (_Enter_ Sir
+POSH.) You, Papa?
+
+  _Sir Posh._ What, Verbena, sitting with, hem--Samuel in the gloaming?
+(_Sings with forced hilarity._) "In the gloaming, oh, my darling!"
+that's as it should be--quite as it should be!
+
+  _Verb._ (_in dull strained accents_). Don't sing, Papa, I cannot bear
+it--just yet. I have just suffocated Mr. Spiker with a sofa-cushion.
+See!
+     [_Shows the body._
+
+  _Sir Posh._ Then I am safe--he will tell no tales now! But, my child,
+are you aware of the very serious nature of your act? An act of which,
+as a Justice of the Peace, I am bound to take some official cognizance!
+
+  _Verb._ Do not scold me, Papa. Was it not done for _your_ sake?
+
+  _Sir P._ I cannot accept such an excuse as that. I fear your motives
+were less disinterested than you would have me believe. And now,
+Verbena, what will _you_ do? As your father, I would gladly screen
+you--but, as a Magistrate, I cannot promise to be more than passive.
+
+  _Verb._ Listen, Papa. I have thought of a plan--why should I not wheel
+this sofa to the head of the front-door steps, and tip it over? They
+will only think he fell down when intoxicated--for he _had_ taken far
+too much wine, Papa!
+
+  _Sir P._ Always the same quick-witted little fairy! Go, my child, but be
+careful that none of the servants see you. (VERB. _wheels the sofa and_
+SPIKER'S _body out,_ L.U.E.) My poor impulsive darling, I do hope she
+will not be seen--servants _do_ make such mischief! But there's an end
+of Spiker, at any rate. I should _not_ have liked him for a son-in-law,
+and with him, goes the only person who knows my unhappy secret!
+
+_Enter_ BLETHERS.
+
+  _Blethers._ Sir Poshbury, I have a secret to reveal which I can preserve
+no longer--it concerns something that happened many years ago--it is
+connected with your _birthday_, Sir Poshbury.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_quailing_). What, _another_! I must stop _his_ tongue at all
+hazards. Ah, the rotten sash-line! (_To_ BLETHERS.) I will hear you, but
+first close yonder window, the night-air is growing chill.
+
+     [BLETHERS _goes to window at back. Slow music. As he approaches
+     it,_ Lord BLESHUGH _enters_ (R 2 E), _and, with a smothered cry
+     of horror, drags him back by the coat-tails--just before the
+     window falls with a tremendous crash._
+
+  _Sir P._ Bleshugh! What have you done?
+
+  _Lord Blesh._ (_sternly_). Saved _him_ from an untimely end--and _you_
+from--crime!
+
+_Collapse of_ Sir P. _Enter_ VERBENA, _terrified._
+
+  _Verb._ Papa, Papa, hide me! The night-air and the cold stone steps have
+restored Mr. Spiker to life and consciousness! He is coming to denounce
+me--you--both of us! He is awfully annoyed!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_recklessly_). It is useless to appeal to me, child. I have
+enough to do to look after myself--now.
+
+        [_Enter_ SPIKER, _indignant._
+
+  _Spiker._ Pretty treatment for a gentleman, this! Look here, Poshbury,
+this young lady has choked me with a cushion, and then pitched me down
+the front steps--I might have broken my neck.
+
+  _Sir P._ It was an oversight which I lament, but for which I must
+decline to be answerable. You must settle your differences with her.
+
+  _Spiker._ And you too, old horse! _You_ had a hand in this, I know, and
+I'll pay you out for it now. My life ain't safe if I marry a girl like
+that, so I've made up my mind to split and be done with it!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_contemptuously_). If _you_ don't, Blethers _will_. So do your
+worst, you hound!
+
+  _Spiker._ Very well then; I will. (_To the rest._) I denounce this man
+for travelling with a half-ticket from Edgware Road to Baker Street on
+his thirteenth birthday, the 31st of March twenty-seven years ago this
+very day!
+     [_Sensation._
+
+  _Blethers._ Hear me! It was _not_ his thirteenth birthday; Sir
+Poshbury's birthday falls on the 1st of April--_to-morrow_! I was sent
+to register the birth, and, by a blunder, which I have repented bitterly
+ever since, unfortunately gave the wrong date. Till this moment I have
+never had the manliness or sincerity to confess my error, for fear of
+losing my situation.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_to_ SPIKER). Do you hear, you paltry knave? I was _not_
+thirteen. Consequently, I was under age, and the Bye-laws are still
+unbroken. Your hold over me is gone--gone for ever!
+
+  _Spiker._ H'm--Spiker spiked this time!
+
+        [_Retires up disconcerted._
+
+  _Lord Bl._ And you did not really love him, after all, Verbena?
+
+  _Verb._ (_with arch pride_). Have I not proved my indifference?
+
+  _Lord Bl._ But I forget--you admitted that you were but trifling with my
+affection--take back your pin-cushion!
+
+  _Verb._ Keep it. All that I did was done to spare my father!
+
+  _Sir Posh._ Who, as a matter of fact, was innocent--but I forgive you,
+child, for your unworthy suspicions. Bleshugh, my boy, you have saved me
+from unnecessarily depriving myself of the services of an old retainer.
+Blethers, I condone a dissimulation for which you have done much to
+atone. Spiker, you vile and miserable rascal, be off, and be thankful
+that I have sufficient magnanimity to refrain from giving you in charge.
+(SPIKER _sneaks off crushed._) And now, my children, and my faithful old
+servant, congratulate me that I am no longer----
+
+  _Verbena and Lord Bleshugh_ (_together_). Under the Harrow!
+
+        [_Affecting Family Tableau and quick Curtain._
+
+
+
+
+X.--TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE
+
+
+[Illustration: Tommy and Jane.]
+
+Once more we draw upon our favourite source of inspiration--the poems of
+the Misses Taylor. The dramatist is serenely confident that the new
+London County Council Censor of Plays, whenever that much-desired
+official is appointed, will highly approve of this little piece on
+account of the multiplicity of its morals. It is intended to teach,
+amongst other useful lessons, that--as the poem on which it is founded
+puts it--"Fruit in lanes is seldom good"; also, that it is not always
+prudent to take a hint: again, that constructive murder is distinctly
+reprehensible, and should never be indulged in by persons who cannot
+control their countenances afterwards. Lastly, that suicide may often be
+averted by the exercise of a little _savoir vivre_.
+
+
+TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE.
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Tommy and his Sister Jane (Taylorian Twins, and awful examples)._
+
+    _Their Wicked Uncle (plagiarised from a forgotten Nursery Story,
+        and slightly altered)._
+
+    _Old Farmer Copeer (skilled in the use of horse and cattle medicines)._
+
+
+     SCENE--_A shady lane; on the right, a gate, leading to the
+     farm; left, some bashes, covered with practicable scarlet
+     berries._
+
+_Enter the_ Wicked Uncle, _stealthily_.
+
+  _The W. U._ No peace of mind I e'er shall know again
+    Till I have cooked the geese of Tom and Jane!
+    But--though a naughty--I'm a nervous nunky,
+    For downright felonies I'm far too funky!
+    I'd hire assassins--but of late the villains
+    Have raised their usual fee to fifteen shillin's!
+    Nor, to reduce their rates, will they engage
+    (_Sympathetically_) For two poor orphans who are under age!
+    So (as I'd give no more than half a guinea)
+    I must myself get rid of Tom and Jenny.
+    Yet, like an old soft-hearted fool, I falter,
+    And can't make up my mind to risk a halter.
+    (_Looking off._) Ha, in the distance, Jane and little Tom I see!
+    These berries--(_meditatively_)--why, it only needs diplomacy.
+    Ho-ho, a most ingenious experiment!
+
+     [_Indulges in silent and sinister mirth, as_ Jane _and_ Tom
+     _trip in, and regard him with innocent wonder._
+
+  _Jane._ Uncle, what _is_ the joke? Why all this merriment?
+
+  _The W. U._ (_in guilty confusion_). Not merriment, my
+        loves--a trifling spasm--
+    Don't be alarmed--your Uncle often has 'em!
+    I'm feeling better than I did at first--
+    _You're_ looking flushed, though not, I hope, with thirst?
+
+        [_Insidiously._
+
+_Song, by the_ Wicked Uncle.
+
+    The sun is scorching overhead;
+      The roads are dry and dusty;
+    And here are berries, ripe and red,
+      Refreshing when you're _thusty_!
+    They're hanging just within your reach,
+      Inviting you to clutch them!
+    But--as your Uncle--I beseech
+      You won't attempt to touch them?
+
+  _Tommy and Jane_ (_dutifully_). We'll do whatever you beseech, and not
+attempt to touch them!
+
+        [_Annoyance of_ W. U.
+
+  _The W. U._ Temptation (so I've understood)
+      A child, in order kept, shuns;
+    And fruit in lanes is seldom good
+      (With several exceptions).
+    However freely you partake,
+      It can't--as you are young--kill,
+    But should it cause a stomach-ache--
+      Well, don't you blame your Uncle!
+
+  _Tommy and Jane._ No, should it cause a stomach-ache, we will not blame
+our Uncle!
+
+  _The W. U._ (_aside_). They'll need no further personal assistance,
+    But take the bait when I am at a distance.
+    I could not, were I paid a thousand ducats,
+    (_With sentiment_) Stand by, and see them kick their little buckets,
+    Or look on while their sticks this pretty pair cut!
+
+        [_Stealing off._
+
+  _Tommy._ What, Uncle, going?
+
+  _The W. U._ (_with assumed jauntiness_). Just to get my hair
+        cut!    [_Goes._
+
+  _Tommy_ (_looking wistfully at the berries_). I say, they _do_ look
+        nice, Jane, such a lot too!
+
+  _Jane_ (_demurely_). Well, Tommy, Uncle never told us _not_ to.
+
+     [_Slow music; they gradually approach the berries, which they
+     pick and eat with increasing relish, culminating in a dance of
+     delight._
+
+_Duet_--TOMMY _and_ JANE (_with step-dance_).
+
+  _Tommy_ (_dancing, with his mouth full_). These berries ain't so
+        bad--although they've far too much acidity.
+
+  _Jane_ (_ditto_). To me, their only drawback is a dash of insipidity.
+
+  _Tommy_ (_rudely_). But, all the same, you're wolfing 'em
+        with wonderful avidity!
+
+  _Jane_ (_indignantly_). No, _that_ I'm not, so _there_ now!
+
+  _Tommy_ (_calmly_).                          But you _are_!
+
+  _Jane._                                                 And so are _you_!
+
+     [_They retire up, dancing, and eat more berries--after which
+     they gaze thoughtfully at each other._
+
+  _Jane._ This fruit is most refreshing--but it's curious how
+        it cloys on you!
+
+  _Tommy_ (_with anxiety_). I wonder why all appetite for
+        dinner it destroys in you!
+
+  _Jane._ Oh, Tommy, aren't you half afraid you've ate
+        enough to poison you?
+
+  _Tommy._ No, _that_ I'm not--so there now! &c., &c.
+
+        [_They dance as before._
+
+  _Tommy._ Jane, _is_ your palate parching up in horrible aridity?
+
+  _Jane._ It is, and in my throat's a lump of singular solidity.
+
+  _Tommy._ Then that is why you're dancing with such pokerlike rigidity.
+
+     [_Refrain as before; they dance with decreasing spirit, and
+     finally stop, and fan one another with their hats._
+
+  _Jane._ I'm better now that on my brow there is a little breeziness.
+
+  _Tommy._ My passing qualm is growing calm, and tightness
+        turns to easiness.
+
+  _Jane._ You seem to me tormented by a tendency to queasiness?
+
+     [_Refrain; they attempt to continue the dance--but suddenly sit
+     down side by side._
+
+  _Jane_ (_with a gasp_). I don't know what it is--but, oh, I
+        _do_ feel so peculiar!
+
+  _Tommy_ (_with a gulp_). I've tumults taking place within
+        that I may say unruly are.
+
+  _Jane._ Why, Tommy, you are turning green--you really
+        and you _truly_ are!
+
+  _Tommy._ No, _that_ I'm not, so _there_ now!
+
+  _Jane._                              But you _are_!
+
+  _Tommy._                                 And so are _you_!
+
+     [_Melancholy music; to which_ TOMMY _and_ _Jane_, _after a few
+     convulsive movements, gradually become inanimate. Enter old_
+     Farmer COPEER _from gate, carrying a large bottle labelled
+     "Cattle Medicine."_
+
+  _Farmer C._ It's time I gave the old bay mare her drench.
+
+        [_Stumbles over the children._
+
+    What's here? A lifeless lad!--and little wench!
+    Been eating berries--where did they get _them_ idees?
+    For cows, when took so, I've the reg'lar remedies.
+    I'll try 'em here--and if their state the worse is,
+    Why, they shall have them balls I give my 'erses!
+
+        [_Carries the bodies off just before the_ W. U. _re-enters_.
+
+  _W. U._ The children--gone? yon bush of berries less full!
+    Hooray, my little stratagem's successful!
+
+        [_Dances a triumphant pas seul. Re-enter Farmer C._
+
+  _Farmer C._ Been looking for your little niece and nephew?
+
+  _The W. U._ Yes, searching for them everywhere--
+
+  _Farmer C._ (_ironically_).             Oh, _hev'_ you?
+    Then let me tell you, from all pain they're free, Sir.
+
+  _The W. U._ (_falling on his knees_). _I_ didn't poison them--it
+        wasn't _me_, Sir!
+
+  _Farmer C._ I thought as much--a constable I'll run for.
+
+        [_Exit._
+
+  _The W. U._ My wretched nerves again! _This_ time I'm done for!
+    Well, though I'm trapped, and useless all disguise is,
+    My case shall ne'er come on at the Assizes!
+
+     [_Rushes desperately to tree and crams himself with the
+     remaining berries, which produce an almost instantaneous
+     effect. Re-enter_ TOM _and_ JANE _from gate, looking pale and
+     limp. Terror of the_ Wicked Uncle _as he turns and recognises
+     them_.
+
+  _The W. U._ (_with tremulous politeness_). The shades of
+        Jane and Tommy, I presume?
+
+        [_Re-enter Farmer C._
+
+  _Jane and Tommy_ (_pointing to Farmer C._) His Cattle
+        Mixtures snatched us from the tomb!
+
+  _The W. U._ (_with a flicker of hope_). Why, then the self-same
+        drugs will ease _my_ torments!
+
+  _Farmer C._ (_chuckling_). Too late! they've drunk the lot,
+        the little vormints!
+
+  _The W. U._ (_bitterly_). So out of life I must inglorious wriggle,
+    Pursued by Tommy's grin, and Jenny's giggle!
+
+     [_Dies in great agony, while_ TOMMY, JANE, _and_ Farmer COPEER
+     _look on with mixed emotions as the Curtain falls_.
+
+
+
+
+XI.--THE RIVAL DOLLS.
+
+"Miss Jenny and Polly had each a new dolly."--_Vide Poem._
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Miss Jenny_  } By the Sisters LEAMAR.
+    _Miss Polly_  }
+
+    _The Soldier Doll_ } By the Two ARMSTRONGS.
+    _The Sailor Doll_  }
+
+
+     SCENE--_A Nursery. Enter_ Miss JENNY _and_ Miss POLLY, _who
+     perform a blameless step-dance with an improving chorus_.
+
+    Oh, isn't it jolly! we've each a new dolly,
+      And one is a Soldier, the other's a Tar;
+    We're fully contented with what's been presented,
+      Such good little children we both of us are!
+
+     [_They dance up to a cupboard, from which they bring out two
+     large Dolls, which they place on chairs._
+
+  _Miss J._ _Don't_ they look nice! Come, Polly, let us strive
+    To make ourselves believe that they're alive!
+
+  _Miss P._ (_addressing_ Sailor D.). I'm glad you're mine. I
+        dote on all that's nautical.
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_opening his eyes suddenly_). Excuse me, Miss, your
+        sister's more _my_ sort o' gal.
+
+     [_Kisses his hand to_ Miss J., _who shrinks back, shocked and
+     alarmed_.
+
+  _Miss J._ Oh, Polly, _did_ you hear? I feel so shy!
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_with mild self-assertion_). _I_ can say "Pa" and
+        "Ma"--and wink my eye.
+
+     [_Does so at_ Miss P., _who runs in terror to_ Miss J.'s
+     _side_.
+
+  _Miss J._ Why, both are showing signs of animation.
+
+  _Miss P._ Who'd think we had such strong imagination!
+
+  _The Soldier Doll_ (_aside to the Sailor D._). I say, old fellow,
+        we have caught their fancy--
+    In each of us they now a real man see!
+    Let's keep it up!
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_dubiously._) D'ye think as we can _do_ it?
+
+  _The Soldier D._ You stick by me, and I will see you through it.
+    Sit up, and turn your toes out,--don't you loll;
+    Put on the Man, and drop the bloomin' Doll!
+
+     [_The_ Sailor DOLL _pulls himself together, and rises from
+     chair importantly_.
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_in the manner of a Music-hall Chairman_)--
+
+    Ladies, with your kind leave, this gallant gent
+    Will now his military sketch present.
+
+     [Miss J. _and_ P. _applaud_: _the_ Soldier D., _after feebly
+     expostulating, is induced to sing_.
+
+_Song, by the_ Soldier Doll.
+
+    When I used to be displayed,
+    In the Burlington Arcade,
+    With artillery arrayed
+          Underneath.
+                Shoulder Hump
+
+    I imagine that I made
+    All the Lady Dolls afraid,
+    I should draw my battle-blade
+          From its sheath,
+                Shoulder Hump
+
+    For I'm Mars's gallant son,
+    And my back I've shown to none,
+    Nor was ever seen to run
+          From the strife!
+                Shoulder Hump!
+
+    Oh, the battles I'd have won,
+    And the dashing deeds have done,
+    If I'd ever fired a gun
+          In my life!
+                Shoulder Hump!
+
+_Refrain (to be sung marching round Stage)._
+
+    By your right flank, Wheel!
+    Let the front rank kneel!
+    With the bristle of the steel
+          To the foe.
+    Till their regiments reel,
+    At our rattling peal,
+    And the military zeal
+          We show!
+
+[Illustration: "Shoulder Hump!"]
+
+        [_Repeat, with the whole company marching round after him._
+
+  _The Soldier Doll._ My friend will next oblige--this jolly Jack Tar.
+    Will give his song and chorus in char�ck-tar!
+
+        [_Same business with_ Sailor D.
+
+_Song, by the_ Sailor Doll.
+
+    In costume I'm
+    So maritime,
+    You'd never suppose the fact is,
+    That with the Fleet
+    In Regent Street,
+    I'd precious little naval practice!
+    There was saucy craft,
+    Rigged fore an' aft,
+    Inside o' Mr. Cre-mer's.
+    From Noah's Arks to Clipper-built barques,
+    Like-wise mechanical stea-mers.
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    But to navigate the Serpentine,
+            Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy!
+    With clockwork, sails, or spirits of wine,
+            Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy!
+    I did respeckfully decline,
+    So I was left in port to pine,
+    Which wasn't azactually the line
+    Of a rollicking Sailor Boy, Yeo-ho!
+    Of a rollicking Sailor Bo-oy!
+
+        Yes, there was lots
+        Of boats and yachts,
+        Of timber and of tin, too;
+        But one and all
+        Was far too small
+        For a doll o' my size to get into
+        I was too big
+        On any brig
+        To ship without disas-ter,
+        And it wouldn't never do
+        When the cap'n and the crew
+        Were a set 'o little swabs all plaster!
+
+_Chorus_--So to navigate the Serpentine, &c.
+
+    An Ark is p'raps
+    The berth for chaps
+    As is fond o' Natural Hist'ry.
+    But I sez to Shem
+    And the rest o' them,
+    "How you get along at all's a myst'ry!
+    With a Wild Beast Show
+    Let loose below,
+    And four fe-males on deck too!
+    I never could agree
+    With your happy fami-lee,
+    And your lubberly ways I objeck to."
+
+     [_Chorus. Hornpipe by the company, after which the_ Soldier
+     Doll _advances condescendingly to_ Miss JENNY.
+
+  _The Sold. D._ Invincible I'm reckoned by the Ladies,
+    But yield to you--though conquering my trade is!
+
+  _Miss J._ (_repulsing him_). Oh, go away, you great conceited thing, you!
+
+        [_The_ Sold. D. _persists in offering her attentions._
+
+  _Miss P._ (_watching them bitterly_). To be deserted by one's
+        doll _does_ sting you!
+
+        [_The_ Sailor D. _approaches._
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_to_ Miss P.) Let _me_ console you, Miss, a Sailor Doll
+    As swears his 'art was ever true to Poll!
+
+(N.B.--_Good opportunity for Song here._)
+
+  _Miss P._ (_indignantly to_ Miss J.) Your Sailor's teasing me to
+        be his idol!
+    Do make him stop--(_spitefully_)--When you've _quite_ done
+        with _my_ doll!
+
+  _Miss J._ (_scornfully._) If you suppose _I_ want your wretched warrior,
+    I'm sorry _for_ you!
+
+  _Miss P._            I for you am sorrier.
+
+  _Miss J._ (_weeping_, R.). Polly preferred to me--what ignominy!
+
+  _Miss P._ (_weeping_, L.). My horrid Soldier jilting me for Jenny!
+
+        [_The two Dolls face one another_, C.
+
+  _Sailor D._ (_to_ Soldier D.). You've made her sluice her sky-lights
+        now, you swab!
+
+  _Soldier D._ (_to_ Sailor D.). As you have broke her heart, I'll
+    break your nob!    [_Hits him._
+
+  _Sailor D._ (_in a pale fury_). This insult must be blotted out in bran!
+
+  _Soldier D._ (_fiercely_). Come on, I'll shed your sawdust--if I can!
+
+        [Miss J. _and_ P. _throw themselves between the combatants_.
+
+  _Miss J._ For any mess you make _we_ shall be scolded,
+    So wait until a drugget we've unfolded!
+
+        [_They lay down drugget on Stage._
+
+  _The Soldier D._ (_politely_). No hurry, Miss, _we_ don't object
+        to waiting.
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_aside_). His valour--like my own--'s evaporating!
+    (_Defiantly to_ Soldier D.). On guard! You'll see how soon
+        I'll run you through!
+    (_Confidentially._) (If you will not prod _me_, I won't pink _you_.)
+
+  _The Soldier D._ Through your false kid my deadly blade I'll pass!
+    (_Confidentially._) (Look here, old fellow, don't you be a _hass_!)
+
+        [_They exchange passes at a considerable distance._
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_aside_). Don't lose your temper now!
+
+  _Sold. D._        Don't get excited.
+    Do keep a little farther off!
+
+  _Sail. D._                      Delighted!
+
+        [_Wounds_ Soldier D. _by misadventure._
+
+  _Sold. D._ (_annoyed_). There now, you've gone and made upon
+        my wax a dent!
+
+  _Sail. D._ Excuse me, it was really quite an accident.
+
+  _Sold. D._ (_savagely_). Such clumsiness would irritate a saint!
+
+        [_Stabs Sailor Doll._
+
+  _Miss J. and P._ (_imploringly_). Oh, stop! the sight of sawdust
+        turns us faint!
+
+        [_They drop into chairs, swooning._
+
+  _Sail. D._ I'll pay you out for that!
+
+        [_Stabs Soldier D._
+
+  _Sold. D._                            Right through you've poked me!
+
+  _Sailor D._ So you have _me_!
+
+  _Sold. D._                  You shouldn't have provoked me!
+
+        [_They fall transfixed._
+
+  _Sailor D._ (_faintly_). Alas, we have been led away by vanity.
+    Dolls shouldn't try to imitate humanity!    [_Dies._
+
+  _Soldier D._ For, if they do, they'll end like us, unpitied,
+    Each on the other's sword absurdly spitted!
+
+     [_Dies._ Miss J. _and_ P. _revive, and bend sadly over the
+     corpses_.
+
+  _Miss Jenny._ From their untimely end we draw this moral,
+    How wrong it is, even for dolls, to quarrel!
+
+  _Miss Polly._ Yes, Jenny, in the fate of these poor fellows see
+    What sad results may spring from female jealousy!
+
+        [_They embrace penitently as Curtain falls._
+
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+CONRAD; OR, THE THUMBSUCKER.
+
+(_Adapted freely from a well-known Poem in the "Struwwelpeter."_)
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Conrad (aged 6)._
+
+    _Conrad's Mother(47)._
+
+    _The Scissorman (age immaterial)._
+
+
+     SCENE--_An Apartment in the house of_ CONRAD'S _Mother, window
+     in centre at back, opening upon a quiet thoroughfare. It is
+     dusk, and the room is lighted only by the reflected gleam from
+     the street-lamps._ CONRAD _discovered half-hidden by left
+     window-curtain._
+
+  _Conrad_ (_watching street_). Still there! For full an hour
+        he has not budged
+    Beyond the circle of yon lamp-post's rays!
+    The gaslight falls upon his crimson hose,
+    And makes a steely glitter at his thigh,
+    While from the shadow peers a hatchet-face
+    And fixes sinister malignant eyes--
+    On whom? (_Shuddering._) I dare not trust myself to guess
+    And yet--ah, no--it cannot be myself!
+    I am so young--one is still young at six!--
+    What man can say that I have injured him?
+    Since, in my Mother's absence all the day
+    Engaged upon Municipal affairs,
+    I peacefully beguile the weary hours
+    By suction of consolatory thumbs.
+
+     [_Here he inserts his thumb in his mouth, but almost instantly
+     removes it with a start._
+
+    Again I meet those eyes! I'll look no more--
+    But draw the blind and shut my terror out.
+
+        [_Draws blind and lights candle; Stage lightens._
+
+    Heigho, I wish my Mother were at home!
+    (_Listening._) At last! I hear her latch-key in the door!
+
+     [_Enter_ CONRAD'S _Mother, a lady of strong-minded appearance,
+     rationally attired. She carries a large reticule full of
+     documents._
+
+  _Conrad's M._ Would, Conrad, that you were of riper years,
+    So you might share your Mother's joy to-day,
+    The day that crowns her long and arduous toil
+    As one of London's County Councillors!
+
+  _Conrad._ Nay, speak; for though my mind be immature,
+    One topic still can charm my infant ear,
+    That ever craves the oft-repeated tale.
+    I love to hear of that august assembly
+
+        [_His Mother lifts her bonnet solemnly._
+
+    In which my Mother's honoured voice is raised!
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_gratified_). Learn, Conrad, then, that, after many months
+    Of patient "lobbying" (you've heard the term?)
+    The measure by my foresight introduced
+    Has triumphed by a bare majority!
+
+  _Con._ My bosom thrills with dutiful delight--
+    Although I yet for information wait
+    As to the scope and purpose of the statute.
+
+  _C.'s M._ You show an interest so intelligent
+    That well deserves it should be satisfied,
+    Be seated, Conrad, at your Mother's knee,
+    And you shall hear the full particulars.
+    You know how zealously I advocate
+    The sacred cause of Nursery Reform?
+    How through my efforts every infant's toys
+    Are carefully inspected once a month----?
+
+  _Con._ (_wearily_). Nay, Mother, you forget--I _have_ no toys.
+
+  _C.'s M._ Which brings you under the exemption clause.
+    But--to resume; how Nursery Songs and Tales
+    Must now be duly licensed by our Censor,
+    And any deviation from the text
+    Forbidden under heavy penalties?
+    All that you know. Well; with concern of late,
+    I have remarked among our infancy
+    The rapid increase of a baneful habit
+    On which I scarce can bring my tongue to dwell.
+
+        [_The Stage darker; blind at back illuminated._
+
+    Oh, Conrad, there are children--think of it!--
+    So lost to every sense of decency
+    That, in mere wantonness or brainless sloth,
+    They obstinately suck forbidden thumbs!
+
+        [CONRAD _starts with irrepressible emotion._
+
+    Forgive me if I shock your innocence!
+    (_Sadly._) Such things exist--but soon shall cease to be,
+    Thanks to the measure we have passed to-day!
+
+  _Con._ (_with growing uneasiness_). But how can statutes
+        check such practices?
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_patting his head_). Right shrewdly questioned,
+        boy! I come to that.
+    Some timid sentimentalists advised
+    Compulsory restraint in woollen gloves,
+    Or the deterrent aid of bitter aloes.
+    _I_ saw the evil had too deep a seat
+    To yield to such half-hearted remedies.
+    No; we must cut, ere we could hope to cure!
+    Nay, interrupt me not; my Bill appoints
+    A new official, by the style and title
+    Of "London County Council Scissorman,"
+    For the detection of young "suck-a-thumbs."
+
+     [_Here the shadow of a huge hand brandishing a gigantic pair of
+     shears appears upon the blind._
+
+  _Con._ (_hiding his face in his Mother's lap._) Ah, Mother,
+    see!... the scissors!... On the blind!
+
+  _C.'s M._ Why, how you tremble! You've no cause to fear.
+    The shadow of his grim insignia
+    Should have no terror--save for thumb-suckers.
+
+  _Con._ And what for _them_?
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_complacently_). A doom devised by me--
+    The confiscation of the culprit thumbs.
+    Thus shall our statute cure while it corrects,
+    For those who have no thumbs can err no more.
+
+     [_The shadow slowly passes on the blind_, CONRAD _appearing
+     relieved at its departure. Loud knocking without. Both start to
+     their feet._
+
+  _C.'s M._ Who knocks so loud at such an hour as this?
+
+  _A Voice._ Open, I charge ye. In the Council's name!
+
+  _C.'s M._ 'Tis the Official Red-legged Scissorman,
+    Who doubtless calls to thank me for the post.
+
+  _Con._ (_with a gloomy determination_). More like his business,
+        Madam, is with--Me!
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_suddenly enlightened_). A Suck-a-thumb? ... you, CONRAD?
+
+  _C._ (_desperately_). Ay,--from birth!
+
+     [_Profound silence, as Mother and Son face one another. The
+     knocking is renewed._
+
+  _C.'s M._ Oh, this is horrible--it must not be!
+    I'll shoot the bolt and barricade the door.
+
+     [CONRAD _places himself before it, and addresses his Mother in
+     a tone of incisive irony_.
+
+  _Con._ Why, where is all the zeal you showed of late?
+    Is't thus that you the Roman Matron play?
+    Trick not a statute of your own devising.
+    Come, your official's waiting--let him in!
+
+        [C's M. _shrinks back appalled_.
+
+    So? you refuse!--(_throwing open door_)--then--enter, Scissorman!
+
+     [_Enter the_ Scissorman, _masked and in red tights, with his
+     hand upon the hilt of his shears._
+
+  _The S._ (_in a passionless tone_). Though sorry to create
+        unpleasantness,
+    I claim the thumbs of this young gentleman,
+    Which these own eyes have marked between his lips.
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_frantically_). Thou minion of a meddling tyranny,
+    Go exercise thy loathsome trade elsewhere!
+
+  _The S._ (_civilly_). I've duties here that must be first performed.
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_wildly_). Take my two thumbs for his!
+
+  _The S._                                        'Tis not the law--
+    Which is a model of lucidity.
+
+  _Con._ (_calmly_). Sir, you speak well. My thumbs are forfeited,
+    And they alone must pay the penalty.
+
+  _The S._ (_with approval_). Right! Step with me into the outer hall,
+    And have the business done without delay.
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_throwing herself between them._) Stay, I'm a
+        Councillor--this law was _mine_!
+    Hereby I do suspend the clause I drew.
+
+  _The S._ You should have drawn it milder.
+
+  _Con._                                    Must I teach
+    A parent laws were meant to be obeyed?
+      [_To Sc._] Lead on, Sir. (_To his Mother with cold courtesy._)
+        Madam,--may I trouble you?
+
+[Illustration: "My Conrad!"]
+
+     [_He thrusts her gently aside and passes out with the_ Sc.;
+     _the door is shut and fastened from without._ C.'s M. _rushes
+     to door which she attempts to force without success._
+
+  _C.'s M._ In vain I batter at a senseless door,
+    I'll to the keyhole train my tortured ear.
+    (_Listening._) Dead silence! ... is it over--or, to come?
+    Hark! was not that the click of meeting shears?...
+    Again! and followed by the sullen thud
+    Of thumbs that drop upon linoleum!...
+
+     [_The door is opened and_ CONRAD _appears, pale but erect._
+     _N.B. The whole of this scene has been compared to one in "La
+     Tosca"--which, however, it exceeds in horror and intensity._
+
+  _C.'s M._ They send him back to me, bereft of both!
+    My CONRAD! What?--repulse a Mother's Arms!
+
+  _Con._ (_with chilling composure_). Yes, Madam, for between us ever more,
+    A barrier invisible is raised,
+    And should I strive to reach those arms again,
+    Two spectral thumbs would press me coldly back--
+    The thumbs I sucked in blissful ignorance,
+    The thumbs that solaced me in solitude,
+    The thumbs your County Council took from me,
+    And your endearments scarcely will replace!
+    Where, Madam, lay the sin in sucking them?
+    The dog will lick his foot, the cat her claw,
+    His paws sustain the hibernating bear--
+    And you decree no law to punish _them_!
+    Yet, in your rage for infantine reform,
+    You rushed this most ridiculous enactment--
+    Its earliest victim--your neglected son!
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_falling at his feet_). Say, CONRAD, you will some day pardon
+me?
+
+  _Con._ (_bitterly, as he regards his maimed hands._) Aye--on the day
+these pollards send forth shoots!
+
+     [_His_ Mother _turns aside with a heartbroken wail_; CONRAD
+     _standing apart in gloomy estrangement as the Curtain
+     descends._
+
+
+
+
+BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Transcribers Notes:
+
+Some minor obvious punctuation and typographical errors have been
+corrected silently. Unclosed quotes have been left as they appear in the
+original.
+
+
+Changes made:
+
+    Pg 15 "With enthusiams [replaced with "enthusiasm"] We can make
+    a shift to do it"
+
+    Pg 66 "and the restless winds be mowning." [replaced full stop
+    with comma]
+
+    Pg 95 "The Monster Man-trap steathily" [replaced with
+    "stealthily"]
+
+    Pg 128 "Even _this_ cannot shatter her alrtess [replaced with
+    "artless"] faith"
+
+    Pg 131 "If you please, Ladies and Gentlemen, my Grandmamma"
+    [replaced with "Grandmama" (used previously)]
+
+    Pg 156 "a constable I'll run for, [replaced comma with full stop.]"
+
+
+Both versions of the following words were used in the text:
+
+    latchkey, latch-key
+    limelight, lime-light
+    sashline, sash-line
+    selfsame, self-same
+
+
+All uncertain hyphenation left hyphenated:
+
+    Pg 25  a-noma-lee
+    Pg 38  elec-tresses
+    Pg 99  Bed-chamber
+    Pg 115 low-born
+    Pg 120 Christmas-time
+    Pg 164 sky-lights
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and
+Dramas, by F. Anstey
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL ***
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diff --git a/old/39045-8.zip b/old/39045-8.zip
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@@ -0,0 +1,5971 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas, by
+F. Anstey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas
+       Collected, Improved and Re-arranged from Punch
+
+Author: F. Anstey
+
+Release Date: March 4, 2012 [EBook #39045]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Clarke, Fulvia Hughes and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
+                    }
+                    } denotes a large curly bracket.
+
+
+
+
+    MR. PUNCH'S
+
+    MODEL MUSIC-HALL
+
+    SONGS & DRAMAS.
+
+
+
+
+    By F. ANSTEY.
+
+    MR. PUNCH'S
+    YOUNG RECITER
+
+    Illustrated.
+
+    Price 3_s._ 6_d._
+
+
+
+
+    MR. PUNCH'S
+
+    MODEL MUSIC-HALL
+
+    SONGS & DRAMAS.
+
+    Collected, Improved, and Re-Arranged
+
+    FROM "PUNCH."
+
+    BY F. ANSTEY,
+    AUTHOR OF "VICE VERSA," "MR. PUNCH'S YOUNG RECITER," &C
+
+    With Illustrations.
+
+    LONDON:
+    BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., 9, BOUVERIE ST., E.C.
+    1892.
+
+
+
+
+    LONDON
+
+    BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                          PAGE
+
+    INTRODUCTION                             3
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+
+            SONGS.
+
+    I.--THE PATRIOTIC                       15
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    II.--THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL              18
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    III.--A DEMOCRATIC DITTY                23
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IV.--THE IDYLLIC                        27
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    V.--THE AMATORY EPISODIC                31
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VI.--THE CHIVALROUS                     37
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VII.--THE FRANKLY CANAILLE              40
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VIII.--THE DRAMATIC SCENA               47
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IX.--THE DUETTISTS                      53
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    X.--DISINTERESTED PASSION               59
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XI.--THE PANEGYRIC PATTER               63
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XII.--THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC          69
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XIII.--THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR        73
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+
+            DRAMAS.
+
+    I.--THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER         79
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    II.--JOE, THE JAM-EATER                 86
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    III.--THE MAN-TRAP                      93
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IV.--THE FATAL PIN                      99
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    V.--BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE           106
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VI.--COMING OF AGE                     113
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VII.--RECLAIMED!                       120
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    VIII.--JACK PARKER.                    132
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IX.--UNDER THE HARROW                  139
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    X.--TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE          151
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    XI.--THE RIVAL DOLLS                   158
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XII.--CONRAD; OR, THE THUMBSUCKER      166
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+[_The Illustrations are by Edward T. Reed; with others from "Punch."_]
+
+
+
+
+    MODEL MUSIC HALL.
+
+    INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: MUSIC HALL PROPRIETOR.]
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+The day is approaching, and may even now be within measurable distance,
+when the Music Halls of the Metropolis will find themselves under yet
+more stringent supervision than is already exercised by those active and
+intelligent guardians of middle-class morality, the London County
+Council. The moral microscope which detected latent indecency in the
+pursuit of a butterfly by a marionette is to be provided with larger
+powers, and a still more extended field. In other words, our far-sighted
+and vigilant County Councilmen, perceiving the futility of delaying the
+inspection of Variety Entertainments until such improprieties as are
+contained therein have been suffered to contaminate the public mind for
+a considerable period, are determined to nip these poison-flowers in the
+bud for the future; and, unless Mr. Punch is misinformed, will apply to
+Parliament at the earliest opportunity for clauses enabling them to
+require each item in every forthcoming performance to be previously
+submitted to a special committee for sanction and approval.
+
+The conscientious rigour with which they will discharge this new and
+congenial duty may perhaps be better understood after perusing the
+little prophetic sketch which follows; for Mr. Punch's Poet, when not
+employed in metrical composition, is a Seer of some pretensions in a
+small way, and several of his predictions have already been shamelessly
+plagiarised by the unscrupulous hand of Destiny. It is not improbable
+that this latest effort of his will receive a similar compliment,
+although this would be more gratifying if Destiny ever condescended to
+acknowledge such obligations. However, here is the forecast for what it
+is worth, a sum of incalculable amount:--
+
+
+POETIC LICENCES.
+
+A VISION OF THE NEAR FUTURE.
+
+     SCENE--_A Committee-room of the L. C. C.; Sub-Committee of
+     Censors, (appointed, under new regulations, to report on all
+     songs intended to be sung on the Music-hall Stage,) discovered
+     in session._
+
+  _Mr. Wheedler_ (_retained for the Ballad-writers_). The next licence I
+have to apply for is for--well, (_with some hesitation_)--a composition
+which certainly borders on the--er--amorous--but I think, Sir, you will
+allow that it is treated in a purely pastoral and Arcadian spirit.
+
+  _The Chairman_ (_gravely_). There _are_ arcades, Mr. Wheedler, I may
+remind you, which are by no means pastoral. I cannot too often repeat
+that we are here to fulfil the mission entrusted to us by the Democracy,
+which will no longer tolerate in its entertainments anything that is
+either vulgar, silly, or offensive in the slightest degree.
+    [_Applause._
+
+  _Mr. Wheedler._ Quite so. With your permission, Sir, I will read you the
+Ballad.
+    [_Reads._
+
+
+"MOLLY AND I.
+
+    "Oh! the day shall be marked in red letter----"
+
+  _The Chairman._ One moment, Mr. Wheedler, (_conferring with his
+colleagues_). "Marked with red letter"--isn't that a little--eh? liable
+to----You don't think they'll have read Hawthorne's book? Very well,
+then. Go on, Mr. Wheedler, please.
+
+  _Mr. W._ "'Twas warm, with a heaven so blue."
+
+  _First Censor._ Can't pass those two epithets--you must tone them down,
+Mr. Wheedler--_much_ too suggestive!
+
+  _Mr. W._ That shall be done.
+
+  _The Chairman._ And it ought to be "sky."
+
+  _Mr. W._ "When amid the lush meadows I met her,
+              My Molly, so modest and true!"
+
+  _Second Censor._ I object to the word "lush"--a direct incitement to
+intemperance!
+
+  _Mr. W._ I'll strike it out. (_Reads._)
+
+    "Around us the little kids rollicked,
+     Lighthearted were all the young lambs----"
+
+  _Second Censor._ Surely "kids" is _rather_ a vulgar expression, Mr.
+Wheedler? Make it "_children_," and I've no objection.
+
+  _Mr. W._ I have made it so. (_Reads._)
+
+    "They kicked up their legs as they frolicked"----
+
+  _Third Censor._ If that is intended to be done on the stage, I protest
+most strongly--a highly indecorous exhibition!
+     [_Murmurs of approval._
+
+  _Mr. W._ But they're only lambs!
+
+  _Third Censor._ Lambs, indeed! We are determined to put down _all_
+kicking in Music-hall songs, no matter _who_ does it! Strike that line
+out.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_reading_). "And frisked by the side of their dams."
+
+  _First Censor_ (_severely_). No profanity, Mr. Wheedler, _if_ you
+please!
+
+  _Mr. W._ Er--I'll read you the Refrain. (_Reads, limply._)
+
+    "Molly and I. With nobody nigh.
+      Hearts all a-throb with a rapturous bliss,
+    Molly was shy. And (at first) so was I,
+      Till I summoned up courage to ask for a kiss!"
+
+  _The Chairman._ "Nobody nigh," Mr. Wheedler? I don't quite like that.
+The Music Hall ought to set a good example to young persons. "Molly and
+I--_with her chaperon by_," is better.
+
+  _Second Censor._ And that last line--"asking for a kiss"--does the song
+state that they were formally engaged, Mr. Wheedler?
+
+  _Mr. W._ I--I believe it omits to mention the fact. But (_ingeniously_)
+it does not appear that the request was complied with.
+
+  _Second Censor._ No matter--it should never have been made. Have the
+goodness to alter that into--well, something of this kind. "And I always
+addressed her politely as "Miss." Then we _may_ pass it.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_reading the next verse_).
+
+    "She wore but a simple sun-bonnet."
+
+  _First Censor_ (_shocked_). Now really, Mr. Wheedler, _really_, Sir!
+
+  _Mr. W._    "For Molly goes plainly attired."
+
+  _First Censor_ (_indignantly_). I should think so--_Scandalous_!
+
+  _Mr. W._    "Malediction I muttered upon it,
+               One glimpse of her face I desired."
+
+[Illustration: Licensing Day.]
+
+  _The Chairman._ I think my colleague's exception is perhaps just a
+_leetle_ far-fetched. At all events, if we substitute for the last
+couplet,
+
+    "Her dress is sufficient--though on it
+     She only spends what is strictly required."
+
+Eh, Mr. Wheedler? Then we work in a moral as well, you see, and avoid
+malediction, which can only mean bad language.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_doubtfully_). With all respect, I submit that it doesn't scan
+quite so well----
+
+  _The Chairman_ (_sharply_). _I_ venture to think scansion may be
+sacrificed to propriety, _occasionally_, Mr. Wheedler--but pray go on.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_continuing_).
+
+    "To a streamlet we rambled together.
+      I carried her tenderly o'er.
+    In my arms--she's as light as a feather--
+      That sweetest of burdens I bore!"
+
+  _First Censor._ I really _must_ protest. No properly conducted young
+woman would ever have permitted such a thing. You must alter that, Mr.
+Wheedler!
+
+  _Second C._ And I don't know--but I rather fancy there's a
+"double-intender" in that word "light"--(_to colleague_)--it strikes
+me--eh?--what do _you_ think?----
+
+  _The Chairman_ (_in a conciliatory manner_). I am inclined to agree to
+some extent--not that I consider the words particularly objectionable in
+themselves, but we are men of the world, Mr. Wheedler, and as such we
+cannot shut our eyes to the fact that a Music-hall audience is only too
+apt to find significance in many apparently innocent expressions and
+phrases.
+
+  _Mr. W._ But, Sir, I understood from your remarks recently that the
+Democracy were strongly opposed to anything in the nature of
+suggestiveness!
+
+  _The Ch._ Exactly so; and therefore we cannot allow their
+susceptibilities to be shocked. (_With a severe jocosity._) Molly and
+you, Mr. Wheedler, must either ford the stream like ordinary persons, or
+stay where you are.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_depressed._) I may as well read the last verse, I suppose:
+
+    "Then under the flickering willow
+      I lay by the rivulet's brink,
+    With her lap for a sumptuous pillow----"
+
+  _First Censor._ We can't have that. It is really _not_ respectable.
+
+  _The Ch._ (_pleasantly._) Can't we alter it slightly? "I'd brought a
+small portable pillow." No objection to _that_!
+
+     [_The other Censors express dissent in undertones._
+
+  _Mr. W._    "Till I owned that I longed for a drink."
+
+  _Third C._ No, no! "A drink"! We all know what _that_ means--alcoholic
+stimulant of some kind. At all events that's how the audience are
+certain to take it.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_feebly_).
+
+    "So Molly her pretty hands hollowed
+      Into curves like an exquisite cup,
+    And draughts so delicious I swallowed,
+      That rivulet nearly dried up!"
+
+  _Third C._ Well, Mr. Wheedler, you're not going to defend _that_, I
+hope?
+
+  _Mr. W._ I'm not prepared to deny that it is silly--_very_ silly--but
+hardly--er--vulgar, I should have thought?
+
+  _Third C._ That is a question of taste, which we won't dispute. _I_ call
+it _distinctly_ vulgar. Why can't he drink out of his _own_ hands?
+
+  _The Ch._ (_blandly_). Allow me. How would _this_ do for the second
+line? "She had a collapsible cup." A good many people _do_ carry them. I
+have one myself. Is that all of your Ballad, Mr. Wheedler?
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_with great relief._) That _is_ all, Sir.
+
+     [_Censors withdraw, to consider the question._
+
+  _The Ch._ (_after consultation with colleagues_). We have carefully
+considered this song, and we are all reluctantly of opinion that we
+cannot, consistently with our duty, recommend the Council to license
+it--even with the alterations my colleagues and myself have gone
+somewhat out of our way to suggest. The whole subject is too dangerous
+for a hall in which young persons of both sexes are likely to be found
+assembled; and the absence of any distinct assertion that the young
+couple--Molly and--ah--the gentleman who narrates the experience--are
+betrothed, or that their attachment is, in any way, sanctioned by their
+parents or guardians, is quite fatal. If we have another Ballad of a
+similar character from the same quarter, Mr. Wheedler, I feel bound to
+warn you that we may possibly consider it necessary to advise that the
+poet's licence should be cancelled altogether.
+
+  _Mr. W._ I will take care to mention it to my client, Sir. I understand
+it is his intention to confine himself to writing Gaiety burlesques in
+future.
+
+  _The Ch._ A very laudable resolution! I hope he will keep it.
+     [_Scene closes in._
+
+
+It is hardly possible that any Music-hall Manager or vocalist,
+irreproachable as he may hitherto have considered himself, can have
+taken this glimpse into a not very remote futurity without symptoms of
+uneasiness, if not of positive dismay. He will reflect that the ballad
+of "Molly and I," however reprehensible it may appear in the fierce
+light of an L. C. C. Committee Room, is innocuous, and even moral,
+compared to the ditties in his own _repertoire_. How, then, can he hope,
+when his hour of trial strikes, to confront the ordeal with an unruffled
+shirt-front, or a collar that shall retain the inflexibility of
+conscious innocence? And he will wish then that he had confined himself
+to the effusions of a bard who could not be blamed by the most
+censorious moralist.
+
+Here, if he will only accept the warning in time, is his best safeguard.
+He has only to buy this little volume, and inform his inquisitors that
+the songs and business with which he proposes to entertain an ingenuous
+public are derived from the immaculate pages of Mr. Punch. Whereupon
+censure will be instantly disarmed and criticism give place to
+congratulation. It is just possible, to be sure, that this somewhat
+confident prediction smacks rather of the Poet than the Seer, and that
+even the entertainment supplied by Mr. Punch's Music Hall may, to the
+Purist's eye, present features as suggestive as a horrid vulgar clown,
+or as shocking as a butterfly, an insect notorious for its frivolity.
+But then, so might the "songs and business" of the performing canary, or
+the innocent sprightliness of the educated flea, with its superfluity of
+legs, all absolutely unclad. At all events, the compiler of this
+collection ventures to hope that, whether it is fortunate enough to find
+favour or not with Music-hall "artistes," literary critics, and London
+County Councilmen, it contains nothing particularly objectionable to the
+rest of the British Public. And very likely, even in this modest
+aspiration, he is over-sanguine, and his little joke will be taken
+seriously. Earnestness is so alarmingly on the increase in these days.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+    MODEL MUSIC HALL.
+
+    SONGS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE PATRIOTIC.]
+
+I.--THE PATRIOTIC
+
+
+This stirring ditty--so thoroughly sound and practical under all its
+sentiment--has been specially designed to harmonise with the recently
+altered tone of Music-hall audiences, in which a spirit of enlightened
+Radicalism is at last happily discernible. It is hoped that, both in
+rhyme and metre, the verses will satisfy the requirements of this most
+elegant form of composition. The song is intended to be shouted through
+music in the usual manner by a singer in evening dress, who should carry
+a small Union Jack carelessly thrust inside his waistcoat. The title is
+short but taking:--
+
+
+ON THE CHEAP!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    Of a Navy insufficient cowards croak, deah boys!
+    If our place among the nations we're to keep.
+    But with British beef, and beer, and hearts of oak, deah boys!--
+    (_With enthusiasm._) We can make a shift to do it--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    (_With a common-sense air_.) Let us keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
+    While Britannia is the boss upon the deep,
+    She can wollop an invader, when he comes in his Armada,
+    If she's let alone to do it--On the Cheap!
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    (_Affectionately._)
+    Johnny Bull is just as plucky as he _was_, deah boys!
+    (_With a knowing wink._) And he's wide awake--no error!--not asleep;
+    But he won't stump up for ironclads--becos, deah boys!
+    He don't see his way to get 'em--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    So keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
+    (_Gallantly._) And we'll chance what may happen on the deep!
+    For we can't be the losers if we save the cost o' cruisers,
+    And contentedly continue--On the Cheap!
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+    The British Isles are not the Conti-nong, deah boys!
+    (_Scornfully._) Where the Johnnies on defences spend a heap.
+    No! we're Britons, and we're game to jog along, deah boys!
+    (_With pathos._) In the old time-honoured fashion--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    (_Imploringly._) Ah! keep, deah boys! On the Cheap;
+    For the price we're asked to pay is pretty steep.
+    Let us all unite to dock it, keep the money in our pocket,
+    And we'll conquer or we'll perish--On the Cheap!
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+    If the Tories have the cheek to touch our purse, deah boys!
+    Their reward at the elections let 'em reap!
+    They will find a big Conservative reverse, deah boys!
+    If they can't defend the country--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    They must keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
+    Or the lot out of office we will sweep!
+    Bull gets rusty when you tax him, and his patriotic maxim
+    Is, "I'll trouble you to govern--On the Cheap!"
+
+_Fifth Verse_ (_this to be sung shrewdly_).
+
+    If the Gover'ment ain't mugs they'll take the tip, deah boys!
+    Just to look a bit ahead before they leap,
+    And instead of laying down an extry ship, deah boys!
+    They'll cut down the whole caboodle--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus_ (_with spirit and fervour_).
+
+    And keep, deah boys! On the Cheap!
+    For we ain't like a bloomin' lot o' sheep.
+    When we want to "parry bellum,"[A]
+                     [_Union Jack to be waved here._
+    You may bet yer boots we'll tell 'em!
+    But we'll have the "bellum" "parried"--On the Cheap!
+
+This song, if sung with any spirit, should, _Mr. Punch_ thinks, cause a
+positive _furore_ in any truly patriotic gathering, and possibly go some
+way towards influencing the decision of the country, and consequently
+the fate of the Empire, in the next General Elections. In the meantime
+it is at the service of any Champion Music Hall Comique who is capable
+of appreciating it.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[A] Music-hall Latinity--"_Para bellum_."
+
+
+
+
+II.--THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL.
+
+[Illustration: "--And the Post!"]
+
+
+In most respects, no doubt, the present example can boast no superiority
+to ditties in the same style now commanding the ear of the public. One
+merit, however, its author does claim for it. Though it deals with most
+of the burning questions of the hour, it can be sung anywhere with
+absolute security. This is due to a simple but ingenious method by which
+the political sentiment has been arranged on the reversible principle. A
+little alteration here and there will put the singer in close touch with
+an audience of almost any shade of politics. Should it happen that the
+title has been already anticipated, _Mr. Punch_ begs to explain that the
+remainder of this sparkling composition is entirely original; any
+similarity with previous works must be put down entirely to "literary
+coincidence." Whether the title is new or not, it is a very nice one,
+viz:--
+
+
+BETWEEN YOU AND ME--AND THE POST.
+
+(_To be sung in a raucous voice, and with a confidential air._)
+
+    I've dropped in to whisper some secrets I've heard.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    Picked up on the wing by a 'cute little bird.
+    We are gentlemen 'ere--so the caution's absurd,
+    Still, you'll please to remember that every word
+              Is between you and me and the Post!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the singer should dance_).
+
+      Between you and me and the Post! An 'int is sufficient at most.
+      I'd very much rather this didn't go farther,
+               than 'tween you and me and the Post!
+
+    At Lord Sorlsbury's table there's sech a to-do.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    When he first ketches sight of his dinner _menoo_,
+    And sees he's set down to good old Irish stoo--
+    Which he's sick of by this time--now, tell me, ain't _you_?
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+
+     _(This happy and pointed allusion to the Irish Question is sure
+     to provoke loud laughter from an audience of Radical
+     sympathies. For Unionists, the words_ "Lord Sorlsbury's" _can be
+     altered by our patent reversible method into "the_ G. O. M.'s,"
+     _without at all impairing the satire.) Chorus, as before._
+
+    The G. O. M.'s hiding a card up his sleeve.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    Any ground he has lost he is going to retrieve,
+    And what _his_ little game is, he'll let us perceive,
+    And he'll pip the whole lot of 'em, so I believe,
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (_The hit will be made quite as palpably for the other side by
+     substituting_ "Lord Sorlsbury's," _&c., at the beginning of the
+     first line, should the majority of the audience be found to
+     hold Conservative views._)
+
+    Little Randolph won't long be left out in the cold.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    If they'll let him inside the Conservative fold,
+    He has promised no longer he'll swagger and scold,
+    But to be a good boy, and to do as he's told,
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (_The mere mention of_ Lord Randolph's _name is sufficient to
+     ensure the success of any song._)
+
+    Joey Chamberlain's orchid's a bit overblown,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+
+     (_This is rather subtle, perhaps, but an M.-H. audience will
+     see a joke in it somewhere, and laugh._)
+
+    'Ow to square a round table I'm sure he has shown.
+
+     (_Same observation applies here._)
+
+    But of late he's been leaving his old friends alone,
+    And I fancy he's grinding an axe of his own,
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (_We now pass on to Topics of the Day, which we treat in a
+     light but trenchant fashion._)
+
+    On the noo County Councils they've too many nobs,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    For the swells stick together, and sneer at the mobs;
+    And it's always the rich man the poor one who robs.
+    We shall 'ave the old business--all jabber and jobs!
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (N.B.--_This verse should not be read to the L. C. C. who might
+     miss the fun of it._)
+
+    There's a new rule for ladies presented at Court,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    High necks are allowed, so no colds will be cort,
+    But I went to the droring-room lately, and thort
+    Some old wimmen had dressed quite as low as they _ort_!
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+    By fussy alarmists we're too much annoyed,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    If we don't want our neighbours to think we're afroid,
+                                               [_M.-H. rhyme._
+    Spending dibs on defence we had better avoid.
+    And give 'em instead to the poor unemployed.
+                                    [_M.-H. political economy._
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+    This style of perlitical singing ain't hard,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    As a "Mammoth Comique" on the bills I am starred,
+    And, so long as I'm called, and angcored, and hurrar'd,
+    I can rattle off rubbish like this by the yard,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+
+     [_Chorus, and dance off to sing the same song_--_with or
+     without alterations_--_in another place._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: A DEMOCRATIC DITTY.]
+
+III.--A DEMOCRATIC DITTY.
+
+
+The following example, although it gives a not wholly inadequate
+expression to what are understood to be the loftier aspirations of the
+most advanced and earnest section of the New Democracy, should not be
+attempted, as _yet_, before a West-End audience. In South or East
+London, the sentiment and philosophy of the song may possibly excite
+rapturous enthusiasm; in the West-End, though the tone is daily
+improving, they are not educated quite up to so exalted a level at
+present. Still, as an experiment in proselytism, it might be worth
+risking, even there. The title it bears is:--
+
+
+GIVEN AWAY--WITH A POUND OF TEA!
+
+VERSE I.--(_Introductory._)
+
+    Some Grocers have taken to keeping a stock
+    Of ornaments--such as a vase, or a clock--
+    With a ticket on each where the words you may see:
+    "To be given away--with a Pound of Tea!"
+
+_Chorus_ (_in waltz time_).
+
+                "Given away!"
+                That's what they say.
+    Gratis--a present it's offered you free.
+                Given away.
+                With nothing to pay,
+    "Given away--[_tenderly_]--with a Pound of Tea!"
+
+VERSE II.--(_Containing the moral reflection._)
+
+    Now, the sight of those tickets gave me an idear.
+    What it set me a-thinking you're going to 'ear:
+    I thought there were things that would possibly be
+    Better given away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--"Given away." So much as to say, &c.
+
+VERSE III.--(_This, as being rather personal than general in its
+application, may need some apology. It is really put in as a graceful
+concession to the taste of an average Music-hall audience, who like to
+be assured that the Artists who amuse them are as unfortunate as they
+are erratic in their domestic relations._)
+
+    Now, there's my old Missus who sits up at 'ome--
+    And when I sneak _up_-stairs my 'air she will comb,--
+    I don't think I'd call it bad business if _she_
+    Could be given away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--"Given away!" That's what they say, &c.
+                                            [_Mutatis mutandis._
+
+VERSE IV.--(_Flying at higher game. The social satire here is perhaps
+almost too good-natured, seeing what intolerable pests all Peers are to
+the truly Democratic mind. But we must walk before we can run.
+Good-humoured contempt will do very well, for the present._)
+
+    Fair Americans snap up the pick of our Lords.
+    It's a practice a sensible Briton applords.
+        [_This will check any groaning at the mention of Aristocrats._
+    Far from grudging our Dooks to the pretty Yan-kee,--
+    (_Magnanimously_) Why, we'd give 'em away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--Give 'em away! So we all say, &c.
+
+VERSE V.--(_More frankly Democratic still._)
+
+    To-wards a Republic we're getting on fast;
+    Many old Institootions are things of the past.
+    (_Philosophically_) Soon the Crown 'll go, too, as an a-noma-lee,
+    And be given away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--"Given away!" Some future day, &c.
+
+VERSE VI.--(_Which expresses the peaceful proclivities of the populace
+with equal eloquence and wisdom. A welcome contrast to the era when
+Britons had a bellicose and immoral belief in the possibility of being
+called upon to defend themselves at some time!_)
+
+    We've made up our minds--though the Jingoes may jor--
+    Under no provocation to drift into war!
+    So the best thing to do with our costly Na-vee
+    Is--Give each ship away, with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--Give 'em away, &c.
+
+VERSE VII.--(_We cannot well avoid some reference to the Irish Question
+in a Music-hall ditty, but observe the logical and statesmanlike method
+of treating it here. The argument--if crudely stated--is borrowed from
+some advanced by our foremost politicians._)
+
+    We've also discovered at last that it's crule
+    To deny the poor Irish their right to 'Ome Rule!
+    So to give 'em a Parlyment let us agree--
+    (_Rationally_) Or they may blow us up with a Pound of their "Tea"!
+
+        [_A euphemism which may possibly be remembered and understood._
+
+        _Chorus_--Give it away, &c.
+
+VERSE VIII. (_culminating in a glorious prophetic burst of the Coming
+Dawn_).
+
+    Iniquitous burdens and rates we'll relax:
+    For each "h" that's pronounced we will clap on a tax!
+                                          [_A very popular measure._
+    And a house in Belgraveyer, with furniture free,
+    Shall each Soshalist sit in, a taking his tea!
+
+  _Chorus, and dance off._--Given away! Ippipooray!
+      Gratis we'll get it for nothing and free!
+      Given away! Not a penny to pay!
+      Given away!--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+
+If this Democratic Dream does not appeal favourably to the imagination
+of the humblest citizen, the popular tone must have been misrepresented
+by many who claim to act as its chosen interpreters--a supposition _Mr.
+Punch_ must decline to entertain for a single moment.
+
+
+
+
+IV.--THE IDYLLIC.
+
+
+The following ballad will not be found above the heads of an average
+audience, while it is constructed to suit the capacities of almost any
+lady _artiste_.
+
+
+SO SHY!
+
+     _The singer should, if possible, be of mature age, and incline
+     to a comfortable embonpoint. As soon as the bell has given the
+     signal for the orchestra to attack the prelude, she will step
+     upon the stage with that air of being hung on wires, which
+     seems to come from a consciousness of being a favourite of the
+     public._
+
+    I'm a dynety little dysy of the dingle,
+         [_Self-praise is a great recommendation--in Music-hall songs_.
+      So retiring and so timid and so coy.
+    If you ask me why so long I have lived single,
+      I will tell you--'tis because I am so shoy.
+
+     [_Note the manner in which the rhyme is adapted to meet
+     Arcadian peculiarities of pronunciation._
+
+_Spoken_--Yes, I am--really, though you wouldn't think it to look at me,
+would you? But, for all that,--
+
+  _Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle,
+            Going off into a giggle,
+          And as red as any peony I blush;
+            Then turn paler than a lily,
+            For I'm such a little silly,
+          That I'm always in a flutter or a flush!
+
+     [_After each chorus an elaborate step-dance, expressive of
+     shrinking maidenly modesty._
+
+    I've a cottage far away from other houses,
+      Which the nybours hardly ever come anoigh;
+    When they do, I run and hoide among the rouses,
+      For I _cannot_ cure myself of being shoy.
+
+_Spoken_--A great girl like me, too! But there, it's no use trying,
+for--
+
+        _Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    Well, the other day I felt my fice was crimson,
+      Though I stood and fixed my gyze upon the skoy,
+    For at the gyte was sorcy Chorley Simpson,
+      And the sight of him's enough to turn me shoy.
+
+_Spoken_--It's singular, but Chorley always 'as that effect on me.
+
+        _Chorus_--When he speaks to me, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    Then said Chorley: "My pursuit there's no evyding.
+      Now I've caught you, I insist on a reploy.
+    Do you love me? Tell me truly, little myding!"
+      But how _is_ a girl to answer when she's shoy?
+
+_Spoken_--For even if the conversation happens to be about nothing
+particular, it's just the same to me.
+
+        _Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.
+
+[Illustration: THE IDYLLIC.]
+
+    There we stood among the loilac and syringas,
+      More sweet than any Ess. Bouquet you boy;
+                                      [_Arcadian for "buy."_
+    And Chorley kept on squeezing of my fingers,
+      And I couldn't tell him not to, being shoy.
+
+_Spoken_--For, as I told you before,--
+
+        _Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    Soon my slender wyste he ventured on embrycing,
+      While I only heaved a gentle little soy;
+    Though a scream I would have liked to rise my vice in,
+      It's so difficult to scream when you are shoy!
+
+_Spoken_--People have such different ways of listening to proposals. As
+for me,--
+
+        _Chorus_--When they talk of love, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    So very soon to Church we shall be gowing,
+      While the bells ring out a merry peal of jy.
+    If obedience you do not hear me vowing,
+      It will only be because I am so shy.
+
+     [_We have brought the rhyme off legitimately at last, it will
+     be observed._
+
+_Spoken_--Yes, and when I'm passing down the oil, on Chorley's arm, with
+everybody looking at me,--
+
+  _Chorus_--I am certain I shall wriggle,
+            And go off into a giggle,
+          And as red as any peony I'll blush.
+            Going through the marriage service
+            Will be sure to mike me nervous,
+                        [_Note the freedom of the rhyme._
+          And to put me in a flutter and a flush!
+
+
+
+
+V.--THE AMATORY EPISODIC.
+
+
+The history of a singer's latest love--whether fortunate or
+otherwise--will always command the interest and attention of a
+Music-hall audience. Our example, which is founded upon the very best
+precedents, derives an additional piquancy from the social position of
+the beloved object. Cultivated readers are requested not to shudder at
+the rhymes. _Mr. Punch's_ Poet does them deliberately and in cold blood,
+being convinced that without these somewhat daring concords, no ditty
+would have the slightest chance of satisfying the great ear of the
+Music-hall public.
+
+The title of the song is:--
+
+
+MASHED BY A MARCHIONESS.
+
+     _The singer should come on correctly and tastefully attired in
+     a suit of loud dittoes, a startling tie, and a white hat_--_the
+     orthodox costume (on the Music-hall stage) of a middle-class
+     swain suffering from love-sickness. The air should be of the
+     conventional jog-trot and jingle order, chastened by a
+     sentimental melancholy._
+
+    I've lately gone and lost my 'art--and where you'll never guess--
+    I'm regularly mashed upon a lovely Marchioness!
+    'Twas at a Fancy Fair we met, inside the Albert 'All;
+    So affable she smiled at me as I came near her stall!
+
+  _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia is stiff in behaviour!
+              She'd an Uncle an Earl, and a Dook for her Pa--
+              Still there was no starchiness in that fair Marchioness,
+              As she stood at her stall in the Fancy Bazaar!
+
+    At titles and distinctions once I'd ignorantly scoff,
+    As if no bond could be betwixt the tradesman and the toff!
+    I held with those who'd do away with difference in ranks--
+    But that was all before I met the Marchioness of Manx!
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    A home was being started by some kind aristo-crats,
+    For orphan kittens, born of poor, but well-connected cats;
+    And of the swells who planned a _Fete_ this object to assist,
+    The Marchioness of Manx's name stood foremost on the list.
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    I never saw a smarter hand at serving in a shop,
+    For every likely customer she caught upon the 'op!
+    And from the form her ladyship displayed at that Bazaar,
+    (_With enthusiasm_)--You might have took your oath she'd
+        been brought up behind a bar!
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    In vain I tried to kid her that my purse had been forgot,
+    She spotted me in 'alf a jiff, and chaffed me precious hot!
+    A sov. for one regaliar she gammoned me to spend.
+    "You really can't refuse," she said, "I've bitten off the end!"
+
+[Illustration: THE AMATORY EPISODIC.]
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    "Do buy my crewel-work," she urged, "it goes across a chair,
+    You'll find it come in useful, as I see you 'ile your 'air!"
+    So I 'anded over thirty bob, though not a coiny bloke.
+    I couldn't tell a Marchioness how nearly I was broke!
+
+_Spoken_--Though I _did_ take the liberty of saying: "Make it fifteen
+bob, my lady!" But she said, with such a fascinating look--I can see it
+yet!--"Oh, I'm sure _you_'re not a 'aggling kind of a man," she says,
+"you haven't the face for it. And think of all them pore fatherless
+kittings," she says; "think what thirty bob means to _them_!" says she,
+glancing up so pitiful and tender under her long eyelashes at me. Ah,
+the Radicals may talk as they _like_, but----
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    A raffle was the next concern I put my rhino in:
+    The prize a talking parrot, which I didn't want to win.
+    Then her sister, Lady Tabby, shewed a painted milking stool,
+    And I bought it--though it's not a thing I sit on as a rule.
+
+_Spoken_--Not but what it was a handsome article in its way, too,--had a
+snow-scene with a sunset done in oil on it. "It will look lovely in your
+chambers," says the Marchioness; "it was ever so much admired at
+Catterwall Castle!" It didn't look so bad in my three-pair back, I must
+say, though unfortunately the sunset came off on me the very first time
+I happened to set down on it. Still think of the condescension of
+painting such a thing at all!
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    The Marquis kept a-fidgeting and frowning at his wife,
+    For she talked to me as free as if she'd known me all my life!
+    I felt that I was in the swim, so wasn't over-awed,
+    But 'ung about and spent my cash as lavish as a lord!
+
+_Spoken_--It was worth all the money, I can tell you, to be chatting
+there across the counter with a real live Marchioness for as long as
+ever my funds would 'old out. They'd have held out much longer, only the
+Marchioness made it a rule never to give change--she couldn't break it,
+she said, not even for _me_. I wish I could give you an idea of how she
+smiled as she made that remark; for the fact is, when an aristocrat
+_does_ unbend--well,----
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    Next time I meet the Marchioness a-riding in the Row,
+    I'll ketch her eye and raise my 'at, and up to her I'll go,
+    (_With sentiment_)--And tell her next my 'art I keep the stump
+        of that cigar
+    She sold me on the 'appy day we 'ad at her Bazaar!
+
+_Spoken_--And she'll be pleased to see me again, _I_ know! She's not one
+of your stuck-up sort; don't you make no mistake about it, the
+aristocracy ain't 'alf as bloated as people imagine who don't _know_
+'em. Whenever I hear parties running 'em down, I always say:
+
+         _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia is stiff in behaviour, &c.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE CHIVALROUS.]
+
+VI.--THE CHIVALROUS.
+
+
+     _The singer (who should be a large man, in evening dress, with
+     a crumpled shirt-front) will come on the stage with a bearing
+     intended to convey at first sight that he is a devoted admirer
+     of the fair sex. After removing his crush-hat in an easy
+     manner, and winking airily at the orchestra, he will begin_:--
+
+
+WHY SHOULDN'T THE DARLINGS?
+
+    There's enthusiasm brimming in the breasts of all the women,
+      And they're calling for enfranchisement with clamour eloquent:
+    When some parties in a huff rage at the plea for Female Suffrage,
+      I invariably floor them with a simple argu-ment.
+
+_Chorus_ (_to be rendered with a winning persuasiveness_).
+
+        Why _shouldn't_ the darlings have votes? de-ar things!
+        On politics each of 'em dotes, de-ar things!
+        (_Pathetically._) Oh it _does_ seem so hard
+              They should all be debarred,
+        'Cause they happen to wear petticoats, de-ar things!
+
+    Nature all the hens to crow meant, I could prove it in a moment,
+      Though they've selfishly been silenced by the cockadoodle-doos.
+    But no man of sense afraid is of enfranchising the Ladies.
+      (_Magnanimously._) Let 'em put their pretty fingers into any
+           pie they choose!
+      _Spoken_--For----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    They would cease to care for dresses, if we made them elec-tresses,
+      No more time they'd spend on needlework, nor at pianos strum;
+    Every dainty little Dorcas would be sitting on a Caucus,
+      Busy wire-pulling to produce the New Millenni-um!
+      _Spoken_--Oh!----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    In the House we'll see them sitting soon, it will be only fitting
+      They should have an opportunity their country's laws to frame.
+    And the Ladies' legislation will be sure to cause sensation,
+      For they'll do away with everything that seems to them a shame!
+      _Spoken_--Then----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    They will promptly clap a stopper on whate'er they deem improper,
+      Put an end to vaccination, landed property, and pubs;
+    And they'll fine Tom, Dick, and Harry, if they don't look
+           sharp and marry,
+      And for Kindergartens confiscate those nasty horrid Clubs!
+      _Spoken_--Ah!----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    They'll declare it's quite immoral to engage in foreign quarrel,
+      And that Britons never never will be warriors any more!
+    When our forces are abolished, and defences all demolished,
+      They will turn upon the Jingo tack, and want to go to war!
+      _Spoken_--So----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    (_With a grieved air._) Yet there's some who'd close such
+                 vistars to their poor down-trodden sistars,
+      And persuade 'em, if they're offered votes, politely to refuse!
+    Say they do not care about 'em, and would rather be without 'em--
+      Oh, I haven't common patience with such narrer-minded views!
+      _Spoken_--No!----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    And it's females--that's the puzzle!--who petition for the muzzle,
+      Which I call it poor and paltry, and I think you'll say so too.
+    They are not in any danger. Let 'em drop the dog-in-manger!
+      If they don't require the vote themselves, there's other Ladies do!
+      _Spoken_--And----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+     [_Here the singer will gradually retreat backwards to the rear
+     of the stage, open his crush-hat, and extend it in an attitude
+     of triumph as the curtain descends._
+
+
+
+
+VII.--THE FRANKLY CANAILLE.
+
+
+Any ditty which accurately reflects the habits and amusements of the
+people is a valuable human document--a fact that probably accounts for
+the welcome which songs in the following style invariably receive from
+Music-hall audiences generally. If--_Mr. Punch_ presumes--they conceived
+such pictures of their manner of spending a holiday to be unjustly or
+incorrectly drawn in any way, they would protest strongly against being
+so grossly misrepresented. As they do nothing of the sort, no apology
+can be needed for the following effusion, which several ladies now
+adorning the Music-hall stage could be trusted to render with immense
+effect. The singer should be young and charming, and attired as simply
+as possible. Simplicity of attire imparts additional piquancy to the
+words:--
+
+
+THE POOR OLD 'ORSE.
+
+    We 'ad a little outing larst Sunday arternoon;
+    And sech a jolly lark it was, I shan't forget it soon!
+    We borrered an excursion van to take us down to Kew,
+    And--oh, we did enjoy ourselves! I don't mind telling _you._
+
+     [_This to the Chef d'Orchestre, who will assume a polite
+     interest._
+
+     [_Here a little spoken interlude is customary._ Mr. P. _does not
+     venture to do more than indicate this by a synopsis, the
+     details can be filled in according to the taste and fancy of_
+     _the fair artiste:--"Yes, we did 'ave a time, I can assure
+     yer." The party: "Me and_ Jimmy 'Opkins;" _old_ "Pa Plapper."
+     _Asked because he lent the van. The meanness of his subsequent
+     conduct._ "Aunt Snapper;" _her imposing appearance in her
+     "cawfy-coloured front."_ Bill Blazer; _his "girl," and his
+     accordion._ Mrs. Addick _(of the fried-fish emporium round the
+     corner); her gentility--"Never seen out of her mittens, and
+     always the lady, no matter how much she may have taken." From
+     this work round by an easy transition to--_
+
+  _The Chorus_--For we _'ad_ to stop o' course,
+                Jest to bait the bloomin' 'orse,
+                So we'd pots of ale and porter
+                (Or a drop o' something shorter),
+                While he drunk his pail o' water,
+                He was sech a whale on water!
+                That more water than he oughter,
+                More water than he oughter,
+                            'Ad the poor old 'orse!
+
+_Second Stanza._
+
+    That 'orse he was a rum 'un--a queer old quadru-ped,
+    At every public-'ouse he passed he'd cock his artful 'ed!
+    Sez I: "If he goes on like this, we shan't see Kew to-night!"
+    Jim 'Opkins winks his eye, and sez--"We'll git along all right!"
+
+        _Chorus_--Though we 'ave to stop of course,--&c., &c.
+                            [_With slight textual modifications._
+
+_Third Stanza._
+
+    At Kinsington we 'alted, 'Ammersmith, and Turnham Green,
+    The 'orse 'ad sech a thust on him, its like was never seen!
+    With every 'arf a mile or so, that animal got blown:
+    And we was far too well brought-up to let 'im drink alone!
+
+        _Chorus_--As we 'ad to stop, o' course, &c.
+
+_Fourth Stanza._
+
+    We stopped again at Chiswick, till at last we got to Kew,
+    But when we reached the Gardings--well, there was a fine to-do!
+    The Keeper, in his gold-laced tile, was shutting-to the gate,
+    Sez he: "There's no admittance now--you're just arrived too late!"
+
+     [_Synopsis of spoken Interlude: Spirited passage-at-arms
+     between_ Mr. Wm. Blazer _and the_ Keeper; _singular action of_ Pa
+     Plapper; _"I want to see yer Pagoder--bring out yer old Pagoder
+     as you're so proud on!"_ Mrs. Addick's _disappointment at not
+     being able to see the "Intemperate Plants," and the "Pitcher
+     Shrub," once more. Her subsidence in tears, on the floor of the
+     van._ Keeper _concludes the dialogue by inquiring why the party
+     did not arrive sooner. An' we sez_, "Well, it was like this,
+     ole cock robin--d'yer see?"
+
+        _Chorus_--We've 'ad to stop, o' course, &c.
+
+_Fifth Stanza._
+
+    "Don't fret," I sez, "about it, for they ain't got much to see
+    Inside their precious Gardings--so let's go and 'ave some tea!
+    A cup I seem to fancy now--I feel that faint and limp--
+    With a slice of bread-and-butter, and some creases, and a s'rimp!"
+
+     [_Description of the tea_:--"_And the s'rimps--well, I don't_
+     _want to say anything against the s'rimps--but it did strike me
+     they were feelin' the 'eat a little--s'rimps are liable to it,
+     and you can't prevent 'em." After tea. The only tune_ Mr. Blazer
+     _could play on his accordion. Tragic end of that instrument. How
+     the party had a "little more lush." Scandalous behaviour of_
+     "Bill Blazer's _girl." The company consume what will be
+     elegantly referred to as "a bit o' booze."_ Aunt Snapper _"gets
+     the 'ump." The outrage to her front. The proposal to
+     start--whereupon,_ "Mrs. Addick, _who was a'-settin' on the
+     geraniums in the winder, smilin' at her boots, which she'd just
+     took off because she said they stopped her breathing,"
+     protested that there was no hurry, considering that_--
+
+        _Chorus, as before_--We've got to stop, o' course, &c.
+
+_Sixth Stanza._
+
+    But when the van was ordered, we found--what _do_ yer think?
+
+     [_To the_ Chef d'Orchestre, _who will affect complete ignorance._
+
+    That miserable 'orse 'ad been an' took too much to drink!
+    He kep' a reeling round us, like a circus worked by steam,
+    And, 'stead o' keeping singular, he'd turned into a team!
+
+     [_Disgust of the party:_ Pa Plapper _proposes to go back to the
+     inn for more refreshment, urging--_
+
+  _Chorus_--We must wait awhile o' course,
+            Till they've sobered down the 'orse.
+            Just another pot o' porter
+            Or a drop o' something shorter,
+            While our good landlady's daughter
+            Takes him out some soda-warter.
+            For he's 'ad more than he oughter,
+            He's 'ad more than he oughter,
+                          'As the poor old 'orse!
+
+_Seventh Stanza._
+
+    So, when they brought the 'orse round, we started on our way:
+    'Twas 'orful 'ow the animal from side to side would sway!
+    Young 'Opkins took the reins, but soon in slumber he was sunk--
+    (_Indignantly._) When a interfering Copper ran us in for being drunk!
+
+     [_Attitude of various members of the party. Unwarrantable
+     proceeding on the part of the_ Constable. _Remonstrance by_ Pa
+     Plapper _and the company generally in_--
+
+  _Chorus_--Why, can't yer shee? o' coursh
+            Tishn't us--it ish the 'orsh!
+            He's a whale at swilling water,
+            We've 'ad only ale and porter,
+            Or a drop o' something shorter.
+            You le'mme go, you shnorter!
+            Don' you tush me till you oughter!
+            Jus' look 'ere--to cut it shorter--
+                          Take the poor old 'orsh!
+
+     [_General adjournment to the Police-station. Interview with the_
+     Magistrate _on the following morning._ Mr. Hopkins _called upon to
+     state his defence, replies in_--
+
+  _Chorus_--Why, your wushup sees, o' course,
+            It was all the bloomin' 'orse!
+            He _would_ 'ave a pail o' water
+            Every 'arf a mile (or quarter),
+            Which is what he didn't oughter!
+            He shall stick to ale or porter,
+            With a drop o' something shorter,
+            I'm my family's supporter--
+                          Fine the poor old 'orse!
+
+     [_The_ Magistrate's _view of the case. Concluding remark that,
+     notwithstanding the success of the excursion, as a whole--it
+     will be some time before the singer consents to go upon any
+     excursion with a horse of such bibulous tendencies as those of
+     the quadruped they drove to Kew._
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE DRAMATIC SCENA.]
+
+VIII.--THE DRAMATIC SCENA.
+
+
+This is always a popular form of entertainment, demanding, as it does,
+even more dramatic than vocal ability on the part of the artist. A song
+of this kind is nothing if not severely moral, an frequently depicts the
+downward career of an incipient drunkard with all the lurid logic of a
+Temperance Tract. _Mr. Punch_, however, is inclined to think that the
+lesson would be even more appreciated and taken to heart by the
+audience, if a slightly different line were adopted such as he has
+endeavoured to indicate in the following example:--
+
+
+THE DANGER OF MIXED DRINKS.
+
+     _The singer should have a great command of facial expression,
+     which he will find greatly facilitated by employing (as indeed
+     is the usual custom) coloured limelight at the wings._
+
+_First Verse (to be sung under pure white light)._
+
+    He (_these awful examples are usually, and quite properly,
+       anonymous_) was once as nice a fellow as you could desire
+       to meet,
+    Partial to a pint of porter, always took his spirits neat;
+    Long ago a careful mother's cautions trained her son to shrink
+    From the meretricious sparkle of an aerated drink.
+
+
+_Refrain (showing the virtuous youth resisting temptation. N.B. The
+refrain is intended to be spoken through music._ NOT _sung_.)
+
+        Here's a pub that's handy.
+          Liquor up with you?
+        Thimbleful of brandy?
+          Don't mind if I do.
+        Soda-water? No, Sir.
+          Never touch the stuff.
+        Promised mother--so, Sir.
+                         (_With an upward glance._)
+          'Tisn't good enough!
+
+_Second Verse._ (_Primrose light for this._)
+
+    Ah, how little we suspected, as we saw him in his bloom,
+    What a demon dogged his footsteps, luring to an awful doom!
+    Vain his mother's fond monitions; soon a friend, with fiendish laugh,
+    Tempts him to a quiet tea-garden, plies him there with shandy-gaff!
+
+_Refrain_ (_illustrating the first false step_).
+
+        Why, it's just the mixture
+          I so long have sought!
+        Here I'll be a fixture
+          Till I've drunk the quart!
+        Just the stuff to suit yer.
+          Waiter, do you hear?
+        Make it, for the future,
+          _Three_ parts ginger-beer!
+
+_Third Verse_ (_requiring violet-tinted slide_).
+
+    By-and-by, the ale discarding, ginger-beer he craves alone.
+    Undiluted he procures it, buys it bottled up in stone.
+
+(_The earthenware bottles are said by connoisseurs to contain liquor of
+superior strength and quality._)
+
+    From his lips the foam he brushes--crimson overspreads his brow.
+    To his brain the ginger's mounting! Could his mother see him now!
+
+_Refrain_ (_depicting the horrors of a solitary debauch poisoned by
+remorse_).
+
+        Shall I have another?
+          Only ginger-pop!
+        (_Wildly._) Ah! I promised mother
+          Not to touch a drop!
+        Far too much I'm tempted.
+          (_Recklessly._) Let me drink my fill!
+        That's the fifth I've emptied--
+          Oh, I feel so ill!
+
+        [_Here the singer will stagger about the boards._
+
+_Fourth Verse._ (_Turn on lurid crimson ray for this._)
+
+    Next with drinks they style "teetotal" he his manhood must degrade;
+    Swilling effervescent syrups--"ice-cream-soda," "raspberry-ade,"
+    Koumiss tempts his jaded palate--payment he's obliged to bilk--
+    Then, reduced to destitution, finds forgetfulness in--milk!
+
+_Refrain_ (_indicating rapid moral deterioration_).
+
+        What's that on the railings?
+                        [_Point dramatically at imaginary area._
+          Milk--and in a can!
+        Though I have my failings,
+          I'm an honest man.
+                            [_Spark of expiring rectitude here._
+        I can _not_ resist it.      [_Pantomime of opening can._
+          That celestial blue!
+        Has the milkman missed it?          [_Melodramatically._
+          _I_'ll be missing too!
+
+_Fifth Verse_ (_in pale blue light_).
+
+    Milk begets a taste for water, so comparatively cheap,
+    Every casual pump supplies him, gratis, with potations deep;
+    He at every drinking-fountain pounces on the pewter cup,
+    Conscious of becoming bloated, powerless to give it up!
+
+_Refrain_ (_illustrative of utter loss of self-respect_).
+
+        "Find one straight before me?"
+          Bobby, you're a trump!
+        Faintness stealing o'er me--
+          Ha--at last--a pump!
+        If that little maid 'll
+          Just make room for one,
+        I could grab the ladle
+          After she has done.
+
+     _The last verse is the culminating point of this moral
+     drama:--The miserable wretch has reached the last stage. He
+     shuts himself up in his cheerless abode, and there, in shameful
+     secrecy, consumes the element for which he is powerless to
+     pay--the inevitable Nemesis following._
+
+_Sixth Verse_ (_All lights down in front. Ghastly green light at
+wings_).
+
+    Up his sordid stairs in secret to the cistern now he steals,
+    Where, amidst organic matter, gambol microscopic eels;
+    Tremblingly he turns the tap on--not a trickle greets the trough!
+    For the stony-hearted turncock's gone and cut his water off!
+
+_Refrain_ (_in which the profligate is supposed to demand an explanation
+from the turncock, with a terrible denoument_).
+
+        "Rate a quarter owing,
+          Comp'ny stopped supply."
+        "Set the stream a-flowing,
+          Demon--or you die!"
+        "Mercy!--ah! you've choked me!"
+                       [_In hoarse, strangled voice as the turncock._
+        "_Will_ you turn the plug?"          [_Savagely as the hero._
+          "No!"                              [_Faintly, as turncock._
+
+     [_Business of flinging a corpse on stage, and regarding it
+     terror-stricken. A long pause; then, in a whisper,_--
+
+                                "The fool provoked me!
+    (_With a maniac laugh._) Horror! I'm a Thug!"
+
+     [_Here the artist will die, mad, in frightful agony, and rise
+     to bow his acknowledgments._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE DUETTISTS.]
+
+IX.--THE DUETTISTS.
+
+
+The "Duet and Dance" form so important a feature in Music-hall
+entertainments, that they could hardly, with any propriety, be neglected
+in a model compilation such as _Mr. Punch's_, and it is possible that he
+may offer more than one example of this blameless diversion. For some
+reason or other, the habit of singing in pairs would seem to induce a
+pessimistic tone of mind in most Music-hall _artistes_, and--why, _Mr.
+Punch_ does not pretend to say--this cynicism is always more marked when
+the performers are of the softer sex. Our present study is intended to
+fulfil the requirements of the most confirmed female sceptic, and,
+though the Message of the Music Halls may have been given worthier and
+fuller expression by pens more practised in such compositions, _Mr.
+Punch_ is still modestly confident that this ditty, with all its
+shortcomings, can be sung in any Music Hall in the Metropolis without
+exciting any sentiment other than entire approval of the teaching it
+conveys. One drawback, indeed, it has, but that concerns the performers
+alone. For the sake of affording contrast and relief, it was thought
+expedient that one of the fair duettists should profess an optimism
+which may--perhaps must--tend to impair her popularity. A conscientious
+_artiste_ may legitimately object, for the sake of her professional
+reputation, to present herself in so humiliating a character as that of
+an _ingenue_, and a female "Juggins"; and it does seem as if the
+Cynical Sister must inevitably monopolise the sympathies of an
+enlightened audience. However, this difficulty is less formidable than
+it appears; it should be easy for the Unsophisticated Sister to convey a
+subtle suggestion here and there, possibly in the incidental dance
+between the verses, that she is not really inferior to her partner in
+smartness and knowledge of the world. But perhaps it would be the
+fairest arrangement if the Sisters could agree to alternate so
+ungrateful a _role._
+
+
+RHINO!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+  _First Sister_ (_placing three of the fingers of her left hand
+on her heart, and extending her right arm in timid appeal_).
+
+    Dear sister, of late I'm beginning to doubt
+      If the world is as black as they paint it.
+    It mayn't be as bad as some try to make out----
+
+  _Second Sister_ (_with an elaborate mock curtsy._)
+    That _is_ a discovery! _Mayn't_ it?
+
+  _First S._ (_abashed_).
+    I'm sure there are sev'ral who aren't a bad lot,
+    And some sort of principle seem to have got,
+    For they act on the square----
+
+  _Second S._                    Don't you talk tommy-rot!
+    It's done for advertisement, _ain't_ it?
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _Second S._ Why, there's nobody at bottom any better than the rest!
+
+  _First S._    Are you sure of it?
+
+  _Second S._                    I'm telling you, and _I_ know,
+              The principle they act upon's whatever pays 'em best.
+                And the only real religion now is--Rhino!
+
+     [_The last word must be rendered with full metallic effect. A
+     step-dance, expressive of conviction on one part and incipient
+     wavering on the other, should be performed between the verses._
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+  _First S._ (_returning, shaken, to the charge_).
+             Some _un_married men lead respectable lives.
+
+  _Second S._ (_decisively_). Well, I've never happened to meet them!
+
+  _First S._ There are husbands who're always polite to their wives.
+
+  _Second S._ Of course--if their better halves beat them!
+
+  _First S._ Some tradesmen have consciences, so I've heard said;
+             Their provisions are never adulterated,
+             But they treat all their customers fairly instead.
+
+  _Second S._ 'Cause they don't find it answer to cheat them!
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _First S._  {What?
+              {
+  _Second S._ {No,--They're none of 'em at bottom any better
+          than the rest.
+
+  _Second S._         I'm speaking from experience, and _I_ know.
+             If you could put a window-pane in everybody's breast
+                   You'd see on all the hearts was written--"Rhino!"
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+  _First S._ There are girls you can't tempt with a title or gold.
+
+  _Second S._ There may be--but I've never seen one.
+
+  _First S._ Some much prefer love in a cottage, I'm told.
+
+  _Second S._ (_putting her arms a-kimbo_).
+              If you swallow _that_, you're a green one!
+              They'll stick to their lover so long as he's cash,
+              When it's gone, they look out for a wealthier mash.
+              A girl on the gush talks unpractical trash--
+                When it comes to the point, she's a keen one!
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _First S._ Then, are none of us at bottom any better than the rest!
+
+  _Second S._ (_cheerfully_). Not a bit; I am a girl myself and _I_ know.
+
+  _First S._ You'd surely never give your hand to someone you detest?
+
+  _Second S._ Why _rather_--if he's rolling in the Rhino!
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+  _First S._ Philanthropists give up their lives to the poor.
+
+  _Second S._ It's chiefly with tracts they present them.
+
+  _First S._ Still, some self-denial I'm sure they endure?
+
+  _Second S._ It's their hobby, and seems to content them.
+
+  _First S._ But don't they go into those horrible slums?
+
+  _Second S._ Sometimes--with a flourish of trumpets and drums.
+
+  _First S._ I've heard they've collected magnificent sums.
+
+  _Second S._ And nobody knows how they've spent them!
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _Second S._ Oh, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest!
+                They are only bigger hypocrites, as _I_ know;
+              They've famous opportunities for feathering their nest,
+                When so many fools are ready with the Rhino!
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+  _First S._ Our Statesmen are prompted by duty alone.
+
+  _Second S._ (_compassionately_). Whoever's been gammoning _you_ so?
+
+  _First S._ They wouldn't seek office for ends of their own?
+
+  _Second S._ What else would induce 'em to do so?
+
+  _First S._ But Time, Health, and Money they all sacrifice.
+
+  _Second S._ I'd do it myself at a quarter the price.
+              There's pickings for all, and they needn't ask twice,
+                For they're able to put on the screw so!
+
+_Refrain_ (_together_).
+
+    No, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest!
+      They may kid to their constituents--but _I_ know;
+    Whatever lofty sentiments their speeches may suggest,
+      They regulate their actions by the Rhino!
+
+     [_Here the pair will perform a final step-dance, indicative of
+     enlightened scepticism, and skip off in an effusion of sisterly
+     sympathy, amidst enthusiastic applause._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: DISINTERESTED PASSION.]
+
+X.--DISINTERESTED PASSION.
+
+
+When a Music-hall singer does not treat of the tender passion in a
+rakish and knowing spirit, he is apt to exhibit an unworldliness truly
+ideal in its noble indifference to all social distinctions. So amiable a
+tendency deserves encouragement, and _Mr. Punch_ has much pleasure in
+offering the following little idyl to the notice of any Mammoth Comique
+who may happen to be in a sentimental mood. It is supposed to be sung by
+a scion of the nobility, and the _artiste_ will accordingly present
+himself in a brown "billy-cock" hat, a long grey frock-coat,
+fawn-coloured trousers, white "spats," and primrose, or green,
+gloves--the recognised attire of a Music-hall aristocrat. A
+powerful,--though not necessarily tuneful,--voice is desirable for the
+adequate rendering of this ditty; any words it is inconvenient to sing,
+can always be spoken.
+
+
+ONLY A LITTLE PLEBEIAN!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    When first I met my Mary Ann, she stood behind a barrow--
+      A bower of enchantment spread with many a dainty snack!
+    And, as I gazed, I felt my heart transfixed with Cupid's arrow,
+      For she opened all her oysters with so fairylike a knack.
+
+_Refrain_ (_throaty, but tender_).
+
+        She's only a little Plebeian!
+          And I'm a Patrician swell!
+        But she's as sweet as Aurora, and how I adore her,
+          No eloquence ever can tell!
+        Only a fried-fish vend-ar!
+          Selling her saucers of whilks,
+                       [_Almost defiant stress on the word "whilks."_
+        But, for me, she's as slend-ar--far more true and tend-ar,
+          Than if she wore satins and silks!
+
+     [_The grammar of the last two lines is shaky, but the
+     Lion-Comique must try to put up with that, and, after all, does
+     sincere emotion ever stop to think about grammar? If it does,
+     Music-hall audiences don't--which is the main point._
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    I longed before her little feet to grovel in the gutter:
+      I vowed, unless I won her as a wife, 'twould drive me mad!
+    Until at last a shy consent I coaxed her lips to utter,
+      For she dallied with her Anglo-Dutch, and whispered, "Speak to Dad!"
+
+        _Refrain_--For she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+    I called upon her sire, and found him lowly born, but brawny,
+      A noble type, when sober, of the British artisan;
+    I grasped his honest hand, and didn't mind its being horny:
+      "Behold!" I cried, "a suitor for your daughter, Mary Ann!"
+
+        _Refrain_--Though she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+    "You ask me, gov'nor, to resign," said he, "my only treasure,
+      And so a toff her fickle heart away from me has won!"
+    He turned to mask his manly woe behind a pewter measure--
+      Then, breathing blessings through the beer, he said; "All
+              right, my son!
+
+        _Refrain_--If she's only a little Plebeian,
+                     And you're a Patrician swell,"--&c.
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+     (_The author flatters himself that, in quiet sentiment and
+     homely pathos he has seldom done anything finer than the two
+     succeeding stanzas._)
+
+    Next I sought my noble father in his old ancestral castle,
+      And at his gouty foot my love's fond offering I laid--
+    A simple gift of shellfish, in a neat brown-paper parcel!
+      "Ah, Sir!" I cried, "if you could know, you'd love my little maid!"
+
+        _Refrain_--True, she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Sixth Verse._
+
+    Beneath his shaggy eyebrows soon I saw a tear-drop twinkle;
+      That artless present overcame his stubborn Norman pride!
+    And when I made him taste a whilk, and try a periwinkle,
+      His last objections vanished--so she's soon to be my bride!
+
+        _Refrain_--Ah! she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Seventh Verse._
+
+    Now heraldry's a science that I haven't studied much in,
+      But I mean to ask the College--if it's not against their rules--
+    That three periwinkles proper may be quartered on our 'scutcheon,
+      With a whilk regardant, rampant, on an oyster-knife, all gules!
+
+        _Refrain_--As she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+This little ditty, which has the true, unmistakable ring about it, and
+will, _Mr. Punch_ believes, touch the hearts of any Music-hall audience,
+is entirely at the service of any talented _artiste_ who will undertake
+to fit it with an appropriate melody, and sing it in a spirit of
+becoming seriousness.
+
+
+
+
+XI.--THE PANEGYRIC PATTER.
+
+
+This ditty is designed to give some expression to the passionate
+enthusiasm for nature which is occasionally observable in the Music-hall
+songstress. The young lady who sings these verses will of course appear
+in appropriate costume; viz., a large white hat and feathers, a crimson
+sunshade, a pink frock, high-heeled sand-shoes, and a liberal extent of
+black silk stockings. A phonetic spelling has been adopted where
+necessary to bring out the rhyme, for the convenience of the reader
+only, as the singer will instinctively give the vowel-sounds the
+pronunciation intended by the author.
+
+
+THE JOYS OF THE SEA-SIDE.
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    Oh, I love to sit a-gyzing on the boundless blue horizing,
+      When the scorching sun is blyzing down on sands, and ships, and sea!
+    And to watch the busy figgers of the happy little diggers,
+      Or to listen to the niggers, when they choose to come to me!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the singer should sway in waltz-time_).
+
+        For I'm offully fond of the _Sea_!-side!
+        If I'd only my w'y I would _de_-cide
+            To dwell evermore,
+            By the murmuring shore,
+        With the billows a-blustering _be_-side!
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    Then how pleasant of a morning, to be up before the dorning!
+      And to sally forth a-prorning--e'en if nothing back you bring!
+    Some young men who like fatigue 'll go and try to pot a sea-gull,
+      What's the odds if it's illegal, or the bird they only wing?
+
+        _Chorus_--For it's one of the sports of the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+    Then what j'y to go a bything--though you'll swim, if you're
+           a sly thing,
+      Like a mermaid nimbly writhing, with a foot upon the sand!
+    When you're tired of old Poseidon, there's the pier to promenide on,
+      Strauss, and Sullivan, and Haydn form the programme of the band.
+
+        _Chorus_--For there's always a band at the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+    And, with boatmen so beguiling, sev'ral parties go out siling!
+      Sitting all together smiling, handing sandwiches about,
+    To the sound of concertiner,--till they're gradually greener,
+      And they wish the ham was leaner, as they sip their bottled stout.
+
+[Illustration: THE PANEGYRIC PATTER.]
+
+        _Chorus_--And they cry, "Put us back on the _Sea_-side!" &c.
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+    There is pleasure unalloyed in hiring hacks and going roiding!
+      (If you stick on tight, avoiding any cropper or mishap,)
+    Or about the rocks you ramble; over boulders slip and scramble;
+      Or sit down and do a gamble, playing "Loo" or "Penny Nap."
+
+        _Chorus_--"Penny Nap" is the gyme for the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Sixth Verse._
+
+    Then it's lovely to be spewning, all the glamour of the mewn in,
+      With your love his banjo tewning, ere flirtation can begin!
+    As along the sands you're strowling, till the hour of ten is towling,
+      And your Ma, severely scowling, asks "Wherever you have bin!"
+
+        _Chorus_--Then you answer "I've been by the _Sea_-side!" &c.
+
+_Seventh Verse._
+
+    Should the sky be dark and frowning, and the restless winds be mowning,
+      With the breakers' thunder drowning all the laughter and the glee;
+    And the day should prove a drencher, out of doors you will
+              not ventcher,
+      But you'll read the volumes lent yer by the Local Libraree!
+
+        _Chorus_--For there's sure to be one at the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Eighth Verse._
+
+    If the weather gets no calmer, you can patronise the dramer,
+      Where the leading lady charmer is a chit of forty-four;
+    And a duty none would skirk is to attend the strolling circus,
+      For they'd all be in the workhouse, should their antics cease
+               to dror!
+
+        _Chorus_--And they're part of the joys of the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Encore Verse_ (_to be used only in case of emergency_).
+
+    Well, I reelly must be gowing--I've just time to make my bow in--
+      But I thank you for allowing me to patter on so long.
+    And if, like me, you're pining for the breezes there's some brine in,
+      Why, I'll trouble you to jine in with the chorus to my song!
+
+        _Chorus_ (_all together_)--Oh, we're offully fond of the
+                    _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC.]
+
+XII.--THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC.
+
+
+A Music-hall audience will always be exceedingly susceptible to
+pathos--so long as they clearly understand that the song is not intended
+to be of a comic nature. However, there is very little danger of any
+misapprehension in the case of our present example, which is as natural
+and affecting a little song as any that have been moving the Music Halls
+of late. The ultra-fastidious may possibly be repelled by what they
+would term the vulgarity of the title,--"The Night-light Ever Burning by
+the Bed"--but, although it is true that this humble luminary is now more
+generally called a "Fairy Lamp," persons of true taste and refinement
+will prefer the homely simplicity of its earlier name. The song only
+contains three verses, which is the regulation allowance for Music-hall
+pathos, the authors probably feeling that the audience could not stand
+any more. It should be explained that the "tum-tum" at the end of
+certain lines is not intended to be sung--it is merely an indication to
+the orchestra to pinch their violins in a _pizzicato_ manner. The singer
+should either come on as a serious black man--for burnt cork is a
+marvellous provocative of pathos--or as his ordinary self. In either
+case he should wear evening dress, with a large brilliant on each hand.
+
+
+THE NIGHT-LIGHT EVER BURNING BY THE BED.
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    I've been thinking of the home where my early years were spent,
+      'Neath the care of a kind maiden aunt, (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    And to go there once again has been often my intent,
+      But the railway fare's expensive, so I can't! (_Tum_-tum!)
+    Still I never can forget that night when last we met:
+      "Oh, promise me--whate'er you do!" she said, (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    "Wear flannel next your chest, and, when you go to rest,
+      Keep a night-light always burning by your bed!" (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Refrain_ (_pianissimo._)
+
+                And my eyes are dim and wet;
+                For I seem to hear them yet--
+    Those solemn words at parting that she said: (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+                "Now, mind you burn a night-light,
+                --'Twill last until it's quite light--
+      In a saucerful of water by your bed!" (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    I promised as she wished, and her tears I gently dried,
+      As she gave me all the halfpence that she had: (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    And through the world e'er since I have wandered far and wide,
+      And been gradually going to the bad! (_Tum_-tum!)
+    Many a folly, many a crime I've committed in my time,
+      For a lawless and a chequered life I've led! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_.)
+    Still I've kept the promise sworn--flannel next my skin I've worn,
+      And I've always burnt a night-light by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Refrain._
+
+                All unhallowed my pursuits,
+                (Oft to bed I've been in boots!)
+    Still o'er my uneasy slumber has been shed (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+                The moderately bright light
+                Afforded by a night-light,
+          In a saucerful of water by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Third Verse._ (_To be sung with increasing solemnity._)
+
+    A little while ago, in a dream my aunt I saw;
+      In her frill-surrounded night-cap there she stood! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    And I sought to hide my head 'neath the counterpane in awe,
+      And I trembled--for my conscience isn't good! (_Tum_-tum!)
+    But her countenance was mild--so indulgently she smiled
+      That I knew there was no further need for dread! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    She had seen the flannel vest enveloping my chest,
+      And the night-light in its saucer by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Refrain_ (_more pianissimo still._)
+
+                But ere a word she spoke,
+                I unhappily awoke!
+    And away, alas! the beauteous vision fled! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    (_In mournful recitation_)--There was nothing but the slight light
+                Of the melancholy night-light
+        That was burning in a saucer by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR.]
+
+XIII.--THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR.
+
+
+To be a successful Military Impersonator, the principal requisite is a
+uniform, which may be purchased for a moderate sum, second-hand, in the
+neighbourhood of almost any barracks. Some slight acquaintance with the
+sword exercise and elementary drill is useful, though not absolutely
+essential. Furnished with these, together with a few commanding
+attitudes, and a song possessing a spirited, martial refrain, the
+Military Impersonator may be certain of an instant and striking success
+upon the Music-hall stage,--especially if he will condescend to avail
+himself of the ballad provided by _Mr. Punch_, as a vehicle for his
+peculiar talent. And--though we say it ourselves--it is a very nice
+ballad, to which Mr. McDougall himself would find it difficult to take
+exception. It is in three verses, too--the limit understood to be
+formally approved by the London County Council for such productions. It
+may be, indeed, that (save so far as the last verse illustrates the
+heroism of our troops in action--a heroism too real and too splendid to
+be rendered ridiculous, even by Military Impersonators), the song does
+_not_ convey a particularly accurate notion of the manner and pursuits
+of an officer in the Guards. But then no Music-hall ditty can ever be
+accepted as a quite infallible authority upon any social type it may
+undertake to depict--with the single exception, perhaps, of the Common
+(or Howling) Cad. So that any lack of actuality here will be rather a
+merit than a blemish in the eyes of an indulgent audience. Having said
+so much, we will proceed to our ballad, which is called,--
+
+
+IN THE GUARDS!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    I'm a Guardsman, and my manner is perhaps a bit "haw-haw;"
+    But when you're in the Guards you've got to show _esprit de corps_.
+                                       [_Pronounce "a spreedy core."_
+    We look such heavy swells, you see, we're all aristo-crats,
+    When on parade we stand arrayed in our 'eavy bearskin 'ats.
+
+_Chorus_ (_during which the Martial Star will march round the stage in
+military order._)
+
+        We're all "'Ughies," "Berties," "Archies,"
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        Twisting silky long moustarches,
+                                 [_Suit the action to the word here._
+                            Bein' Guards! Doncher know?
+        While our band is playing Marches,
+                            For the Guards! Doncher know?
+        And the ladies stop to gaze upon the Guards,
+                                                  Bing-_Bang_!
+
+     [_Here a member of the orchestra will oblige with the cymbals,
+     while the Vocalist performs a military salute, as he passes to_--
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    With duchesses I'm 'and in glove, with countesses I'm thick;
+    From all the nobs I get invites--they say I am "so _chic_!"
+                                                [_Pronounce "chick."_
+    It often makes me laugh to read, whene'er I go off guard,
+    "Dear Bertie, come to my At Home!" on a coronetted card!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+        For we're "Berties," "'Ughies," "Archies,"
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        With our silky long moustarches,
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        Where's a regiment that marches
+                            Like the Guards? Doncher know?
+        All the darlings--bless 'em!--dote upon the Guards,
+                                                  Bing-_Bang_!
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+     [_Here comes the Singer's great chance, and by merely taking a
+     little pains, he may make a tremendously effective thing out of
+     it. If he can manage to slip away between the verses, and
+     change his bearskin and scarlet coat for a solar topee and
+     kharkee tunic at the wings, it will produce an enormous amount
+     of enthusiasm, only he must not take_ more _than five minutes
+     over this alteration, or the audience--so curiously are British
+     audiences constituted--may grow impatient for his return._
+
+But hark! the trumpet sounds!... (_Here a member of the orchestra will
+oblige upon the trumpet._) What's this? ... (_The Singer will take a
+folded paper from his breast and peruse it with attention._) We're
+ordered to the front!
+     [_This should be shouted._
+
+    We'll show the foe how "Carpet-Knights" can face the battle's brunt!
+    They laugh at us as "Brummels"--but we'll prove ourselves "Bay-yards!"
+
+     [_Now the Martial Star will draw his sword and unfasten his
+     revolver-case, taking up the exact pose in which he is
+     represented upon the posters outside._
+
+As you were!... Form Square!... Mark Time!... Slope Arms!...
+now--'Tention!... (_These military evolutions should all be gone through
+by the Artist._) Forward, Guards!
+     [_To be yelled through music._
+
+_Chorus._
+
+        Onward every 'ero marches,
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        All the "'Ughies," "Berties," "Archies,"
+                            Of the Guards! Doncher know?
+        They may twist their long moustarches,
+                            For they're Guards! Doncher know?
+        Dandies? yes,--but dandy _lions_ are the Guards!
+                                                        Bing-_Bang_!
+
+     [_Red fire and smoke at wings, as curtain falls upon the
+     Military Impersonator in the act of changing to a new
+     attitude._
+
+
+
+
+    MODEL MUSIC HALL.
+
+    DRAMAS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER.]
+
+I.--THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER.
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+    _The Little Crossing-Sweeper_
+     By the unrivalled Variety Artist        Miss JENNY JINKS.
+
+    _The Duke of Dillwater_                  Mr. HENRY IRVING.
+      [_Specially engaged; Mr. Punch is sure that he will cheerfully
+          make some slight sacrifice for so good a cause, and he can
+          easily slip out and get back again between the Acts of "Henry
+          the 8th."_
+
+    _A Policeman_                            Mr. RUTLAND BARRINGTON.
+      [_Engaged, at enormous expense, during the entire run of this
+          piece._
+
+    _A Butler_ (_his original part_)         Mr. ARTHUR CECIL.
+
+    _Foot-passengers_, _Flunkeys_, _Burglars_.--By the celebrated
+                    Knockabout Quick-change Troupe.
+
+
+     SCENE I.--_Exterior of the_ Duke's _Mansion in Euston Square by
+     night. On the right, a realistic Moon (by kind permission of_
+     Professor HERKOMER) _is rising slowly behind a lamp-post. On
+     left centre, a practicable pillar-box, and crossing, with real
+     mud. Slow Music, as_ Miss JENNY JINKS _enters, in rags, with
+     broom. Various Characters cross the street, post letters, &c._;
+     Miss JINKS _follows them, begging piteously for a copper, which
+     is invariably refused, whereupon she assails them with choice
+     specimens of street sarcasm--which the Lady may be safely
+     trusted to improvise for herself_.
+
+  _Miss Jenny Jinks_ (_leaning despondently against pillar-box, on which a
+ray of limelight falls in the opposite direction to the Moon_).
+
+    Ah, this cruel London, so marble-'arted and vast,
+    Where all who try to act honest are condemned to fast!
+
+_Enter two_ Burglars, _cautiously_.
+
+  _First B._ (_to_ Miss J. J.)
+    We can put you up to a fake as will be worth your while,
+    For you seem a sharp, 'andy lad, and just our style!
+
+     [_They proceed to unfold a scheme to break into the Ducal
+     abode, and offer_ Miss J. _a share of the spoil, if she will
+     allow herself to be put through the pantry window_.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_proudly_). I tell yer I won't 'ave nothink to do
+        with it, fur I ain't been used
+    To sneak into the house of a Dook to whom I 'aven't been introdooced!
+
+  _Second Burglar_ (_coarsely_). Stow that snivel, yer young
+        himp, we don't want none of that bosh!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_with spirit_). You hold _your_ jaw--for, when you
+        opens yer mouth, there ain't much o' yer face left to wash!
+
+     [_The_ Burglars _retire, baffled, and muttering_. Miss J.
+     _leans against pillar-box again--but more irresolutely_.
+
+    I've arf a mind to run after 'em, I 'ave, and tell 'em I'm game
+        to stand in!...
+    But, ah,--didn't my poor mother say as Burglary was a _Sin_!
+
+     [Duke _crosses stage in a hurry; as he pulls out his latchkey,
+     a threepenny-bit falls unregarded, except by the little_
+     Sweeper, _who pounces eagerly upon it_.
+
+    What's this? A bit o' good luck at last for a starvin' orfin boy!
+    What shall I buy? _I_ know--I'll have a cup of cawfy, and a
+        prime saveloy!
+    Ah,--_but it ain't mine_--and 'ark ... that music up in the air!
+
+          [_A harp is heard in the flies._
+
+    Can it be mother a-playin' on the 'arp to warn her boy to beware?
+    (_Awestruck._) There's a angel voice that is sayin' plain
+        (_solemnly_) "Him as prigs what isn't his'n,
+    Is sure to be copped some day--and then--his time he will
+        do in prison!"
+
+     [_Goes resolutely to the door, and knocks--The_ Duke _throws
+     open the portals_.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ If yer please, Sir, was you aware as you've
+        dropped a thruppenny-bit?
+
+  _The Duke_ (_after examining the coin._) 'Tis the very piece I
+        have searched for everywhere! You rascal, you've _stolen it_!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_bitterly_). And _that's_ 'ow a Dook rewards honesty
+        in _this_ world!
+
+        [_This line is sure of a round of applause._
+
+  _The Duke_ (_calling off_). Policeman, I give this lad in
+        charge for a shameless attempt to rob,
+
+_Enter_ Policeman.
+
+    Unless he confesses instantly who put him up to the job!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_earnestly_). I've told yer the bloomin' truth,
+        I 'ave--or send I may die!
+    I'm on'y a Crossing-sweeper, Sir, but I'd scorn to tell yer a lie!
+    Give me a quarter of a hour--no more--just time to kneel down and pray,
+    As I used to at mother's knee long ago--then the Copper kin
+        lead me away.
+
+     [_Kneels in lime-light. The_ Policeman _turns away, and uses
+     his handkerchief violently; the_ Duke _rubs his eyes_.
+
+  _The Duke._ No, blow me if I can do it, for I feel my eyes are
+        all twitching!
+    (_With conviction._) If he's good enough to kneel by his
+        mother's side, he's good enough to be in my kitching!
+
+     [Duke _dismisses_ Constable, _and, after disappearing into the
+     Mansion for a moment, returns with a neat Page's livery, which
+     he presents to the little_ Crossing-sweeper.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_naively_). 'Ow much shall I ask for on this,
+        Sir? What! Yer don't mean to say they're for _me_!
+    Am I really to be a Page to one of England's proud aristocra-cee?
+
+        [_Does some steps._
+
+
+    _Mechanical change to_ SCENE II.--_State Apartment at the_
+    Duke's. _Magnificent furniture, gilding, chandeliers. Suits of
+    genuine old armour. Statuary (lent by British and Kensington
+    Museums)._
+
+_Enter_ Miss J., _with her face washed, and looking particularly plump
+in her Page's livery. She wanders about stage_, _making any humorous
+comments that may occur to her on the armour and statuary. She might
+also play tricks on the Butler, and kiss the maids--all of which will
+serve to relieve the piece by delicate touches of comedy, and delight a
+discriminating audience._
+
+_Enter the_ Duke.
+
+    I hope, my lad, that we are making you comfortable here?    [_Kindly._
+
+  _Miss J. J._ Never was in such slap-up quarters in my life,
+        Sir, _I'll_ stick to yer, no fear!
+
+     [_In the course of conversation the_ Duke _learns with
+     aristocratic surprise, that the_ Page's _Mother was a Singer at
+     the Music Halls_.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ What, don't know what a Music-'all's like? and you a Dook!
+Well, you _are_ a jolly old juggins! 'Ere, you sit down on this gilded
+cheer--that's the ticket--I'll bring you your champagne and your
+cigars--want a light? (_Strikes match on her pantaloons._) Now you're
+all comfortable.
+
+_The_ Duke _sits down, smiling indulgently, out of her way, while she
+introduces her popular Vocal Character Sketch, of which space only
+permits us to give a few specimen verses_.
+
+        First the Champion Comic
+          Steps upon the stage;
+        With his latest "Grand Success."
+          Sure to be the rage!
+        Sixty pounds a week he
+          Easily can earn;
+        Round the Music Halls he goes,
+          And does at each a "turn."
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    Undah the stors in a sweet shady dairl,
+    I strolled with me awm round a deah little gairl,
+    And whethaw I kissed har yaw'd like me to tairl--
+                    Well, I'd rawthah you didn't inquiah!
+
+              All golden her hair is,
+            She's Queen of the Fairies,
+    And known by the name of the lovely Mariah,
+              She's a regular Venus,
+            But what passed between us,
+    I'd very much rawthah you didn't inquiah!
+
+        Next the Lady Serio,
+          Mincing as she walks;
+        If a note's too high for her,
+          She doesn't sing--she talks,
+        What she thinks about the men
+          You're pretty sure to learn,
+        She always has a hit at them,
+          Before she's done her "turn!"
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    You notty young men, ow! you notty young men!
+    You tell us you're toffs, and the real Upper Ten,
+    But behind all your ears is the mark of a pen!
+    So don't you deceive us, you notty young men!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_concluding_).
+             And such, Sir, are these entertainments grand,
+             In which Mirth and Refinement go 'and-in-'and!
+
+     [_As the_ Duke _is expressing his appreciation of the elevating
+     effect of such performances, the_ Butler _rushes in, followed
+     by two flurried_ Footmen.
+
+  _Butler._ Pardon this interruption, my Lord, but I come to
+        announce the fact
+          That by armed house-breakers the pantry has just been attacked!
+
+  _Duke._ Then we'll repel them--each to his weapons look!
+        I know how to defend my property, although I _am_ a Dook!
+
+  _Miss J._ (_snatching sword from one of the men-in-armour_).
+          With such a weapon I their hash will settle!
+          _You'll_ lend it, won't yer, old Britannia Metal?
+
+     [_Shouts and firing without; the_ Footmen _hide under sofa_.
+
+    Let flunkeys flee--though danger may encircle us,
+    A British Buttons ain't afeard of Burgulars!
+
+     [_Tremendous firing, during which the_ Burglars _are supposed
+     to be repulsed with heavy loss by the_ Duke, Butler, _and_
+     Page.
+
+  _Miss J._ 'Ere--I say, Dook, I saved yer life, didn't yer _know_?
+
+(_A parting shot, upon which she staggers back with a ringing scream_.)
+
+          The Brutes! they've been and shot me!... Mother!... Oh!
+
+     [_Dies in lime-light and great agony; the_ Footmen _come out
+     from under sofa and regard with sorrowing admiration the
+     lifeless form of the_ Little Crossing-sweeper, _which the_
+     Duke, _as curtain falls, covers reverently with the best
+     table-cloth_.
+
+
+
+
+II.--JOE, THE JAM-EATER.
+
+_A MUSICAL SPECTACULAR AND SENSATIONAL INTERLUDE._
+
+(_Dedicated respectfully to Mr. McDougall and the L. C. C._)
+
+[Illustration: Joe!]
+
+
+The Music-hall Dramatist, like Shakspeare and Moliere, has a right to
+take his material from any source that may seem good to him. _Mr.
+Punch_, therefore, makes no secret of the fact, that he has based the
+following piece upon the well-known poem of "The Purloiner," by the
+Sisters Jane and Ann Taylor, who were _not_, as might be too hastily
+concluded, "Song and Dance Duettists," but two estimable ladies, who
+composed "cautionary" verses for the young, and whose works are a
+perfect mine of wealth for Moral Dramatists. In this dramatic version
+the Author has tried to infuse something of the old Greek sense of an
+overruling destiny, without detriment to prevailing ideas of moral
+responsibility. Those who have the misfortune to be born with a
+propensity for illicit jam, may learn from our Drama the terrible
+results of failing to overcome it early in life.
+
+
+JOE, THE JAM-EATER.
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+    _Jam-Loving Joe._ By that renowned Melodramatic Serio-Comic,
+    Miss CONNIE CURDLER.
+
+    _Joe's Mother_ (_the very part for Mrs. BANCROFT if she can
+    only be induced to make her reappearance_).
+
+    _John, a Gardener._ By the great Pink-eyed Unmusical Zulu.
+
+    _Jim-Jam, the Fermentation Fiend._ By Mr. BEERBOHM TREE (_who
+    has kindly consented to undertake the part_).
+
+    _Chorus of Plum and Pear Gatherers, from the Savoy_ (_by kind
+    permission of_ Mr. D'OYLY CARTE).
+
+
+    SCENE--_The Store-room at sunset with view of exterior of Jam
+    Cupboard, and orchard in distance._
+
+_Enter_ JOE.
+
+     "As Joe was at play, Near the cupboard one day, When he thought
+     no one saw but himself."--_Vide Poem._
+
+  _Joe_ (_dreamily_.) 'Tis passing strange that I so partial am
+                  To playing in the neighbourhood of Jam!
+
+     [_HERE_ Miss CURDLER _will introduce her great humorous
+     Satirical Medley illustrative of the Sports of Childhood, and
+     entitled,_ "Some little Gymes we all of us 'ave Plied;" _after
+     which, Enter_ JOE'S _Mother, followed by JOHN and the Chorus,
+     with baskets, ladders, &c., for gathering fruit_.
+
+     "His Mother and John, To the garden had gone, To gather ripe
+     pears and ripe plums."--_Poem._
+
+  _Joe's Mother_ (_with forced cheerfulness_)--
+
+    Let's hope, my friends, to find our pears and plums,
+    Unharmed by wopses, and untouched by wums.
+
+     [_Chorus signify assent in the usual manner by holding up the
+     right hand._
+
+  _Solo_--JOHN.
+
+    Fruit, when gathered ripe, is wholesome--
+      Otherwise if eaten green.
+    Once I know a boy who stole some--
+
+     [_With a glance at JOE, who turns aside to conceal his
+     confusion._
+
+      His internal pangs were keen!
+
+  _Chorus_ (_virtuously_). 'Tis the doom of all who're mean,
+    Their internal pangs are keen!
+
+  _Joe's Mother_ (_aside_). By what misgivings is a mother tortured!
+    I'll keep my eye on Joseph in the orchard.
+
+        [_She invites him with a gesture to follow._
+
+  _Joe_ (_earnestly_). Nay, Mother, here I'll stay till you have done.
+    Temptation it is ever best to shun!
+
+  _Joe's M_. So laudable his wish, I would not cross it--
+    (_Mysteriously._) He knows not there are jam-pots in yon closet!
+
+  _Chorus._ Away we go tripping,
+            From boughs to be stripping
+            Each pear, plum, and pippin
+                Pomona supplies!
+            When homeward we've brought 'em,
+            Those products of Autumn,
+            We'll carefully sort 'em
+                  (_One of our old Music-hall rhymes_),
+                According to size!    [_Repeat as they caper out._
+
+     [JOE'S Mother, _after one fond, lingering look behind, follows:
+     the voices are heard more and more faintly in the distance.
+     Stage darkens: the last ray of sunset illumines key of
+     jam-cupboard door._
+
+  _Joe._ At last I am alone! Suppose I tried
+         That cupboard--just to see what's kept inside?
+
+             [_Seems drawn towards it by some fatal fascination._
+
+       There _might_ be Guava jelly, and a plummy cake,
+       For such a prize I'd laugh to scorn a stomach-ache!
+
+             [_Laughs a stomach-ache to scorn._
+
+       And yet (_hesitating_) who knows?--a pill ... perchance--a powder!
+       (_Desperately._) What then? To scorn I'll laugh them--even louder!
+
+     [_Fetches chair and unlocks cupboard. Doors fall open with loud
+     clang, revealing Interior of Jam Closet (painted by_ HAWES
+     CRAVEN). JOE _mounts chair to explore shelves._
+
+     "How sorry I am, He ate raspberry jam, And currants that stood
+     on the shelf!"--_Vide Poem._
+
+  _Joe_ (_speaking with mouth full and back to audience_).
+    'Tis raspberry--of all the jams my favourite;
+    I'll clear the pot, whate'er I have to pay for it!
+    And finish up with currants from this shelf ...
+    Who'll ever see me?
+
+  _The_ Demon _of the Jam Closet (rising slowly from an immense
+  pot of preserves_).    No one--but Myself!
+
+     [_The cupboard is lit up by an infernal glare (courteously lent
+     by the Lyceum Management from "Faust" properties); weird
+     music_; JOE _turns slowly and confronts the_ Demon _with
+     awestruck eyes._ N.B.--_Great opportunity for powerful acting
+     here._
+
+  _The Demon (with a bland sneer_). Pray don't mind _me_--I
+        will await your leisure.
+
+  _Joe_ (_automatically_). Of your acquaintance, Sir, I've not
+        the pleasure.
+      Who are you? Wherefore have you intervened?
+
+  _The Demon_ (_quietly_). My name is "Jim-Jam;" occupation--fiend.
+
+  _Joe,_ (_cowering limply on his chair_). O Mr. Fiend, I
+          _know_ it's very wrong of me!
+
+  _Demon_ (_politely_). Don't mention it--but please to come "along of" me?
+
+  _Joe_ (_imploringly_). Do let me off this once,--ha! you're relenting,
+        You smile----
+
+  _Demon_ (_grimly_). 'Tis nothing but my jam fermenting!
+
+          [_Catches_ JOE's _ankle, and assists him to descend._
+
+  _Joe_. You'll drive me mad!
+
+  _Demon_ (_carelessly_).    I _may_--before I've done with you!
+
+  _Joe_. What do you want?
+
+  _Demon_ (_darkly_).   To have a little fun with you!
+      Of fiendish humour now I'll give a specimen.
+
+     [_Chases him round and round stage, and proceeds to smear him
+     hideously with jam._
+
+  _Joe_ (_piteously_). Oh, don't! I feel _so_ sticky. _What_ a mess I'm in!
+
+  _Demon_ (_with affected sympathy_).    That _is_ the worst of
+          jam--it's apt to stain you.
+
+     [_To_ JOE, _as he frantically endeavours to remove the traces
+     of his crime._
+
+    I see you're busy--so I'll not detain you!
+
+     [_Vanishes down star-trap with a diabolical laugh.
+     Cupboard-doors close with a clang; all lights down._ JOE
+     _stands gazing blankly for some moments, and then drags himself
+     off stage. His Mother and_ JOHN, _with Pear-and-Plum-gatherers
+     bearing laden baskets, appear at doors at back of Scene, in
+     faint light of torches._
+
+[Illustration: The Demon!]
+
+_Re-enter_ JOE _bearing a candle and wringing his hands._
+
+  _Joe._ Out, jammed spot! What--will these hands _never_ be clean? Here's
+the smell of the raspberry jam still! All the powders of Gregory cannot
+unsweeten this little hand ... (_Moaning._) Oh, oh, oh!
+
+     [_This passage has been accused of bearing too close a
+     resemblance to one in a popular Stage Play; if so, the
+     coincidence is purely accidental, as the Dramatist is not in
+     the habit of reading such profane literature._
+
+  _Joe's Mother._ Ah! what an icy dread my heart benumbs!
+      See--stains on all his fingers, and his thumbs!
+
+     "What Joe was about, His mother found out, When she look'd at
+     his fingers and thumbs."--_Poem again._
+
+Nay, Joseph--'tis your mother ... speak to her!
+
+  _Joe_ (_tonelessly, as before_). Lady, I know you not (_touches lower
+part of waistcoat_); but, prithee, undo this button. I think I have jam
+in all my veins, and I would fain sleep. When I am gone, lay me in a
+plain white jelly-pot, with a parchment cover, and on the label
+write--but come nearer, I have a secret for your ear alone ... there are
+strange things in _some_ cupboards! Demons should keep in the dust-bin.
+(_With a ghastly smile._) I know not what ails me, but I am not feeling
+at all well.
+
+     [JOE'S Mother _stands a few steps from him, with her hands
+     twisted in her hair, and stares at him in speechless terror._
+
+  _Joe_ (_to the Chorus_). I would shake hands with you all, were not my
+fingers so sticky. We eat marmalade, but we know not what it is made of.
+Hush! if Jim-Jam comes again, tell him that I am not at home.
+Loo-loo-loo!
+
+  _All_ (_with conviction_). Some shock has turned his brine!
+
+  _Joe_ (_sitting down on floor, and weaving straws in his hair._) My
+curse upon him that invented jam. Let us all play Tibbits.
+
+     [_Laughs vacantly; all gather round him, shaking their heads,
+     his_ Mother _falls fainting at his feet as curtain falls upon a
+     strong and moral, though undeniably gloomy denoument._
+
+
+
+
+III.--THE MAN-TRAP.
+
+
+This Drama, which, like our last, has been suggested by a poem of the
+Misses Taylor, will be found most striking and impressive in
+representation upon the Music-hall stage. The dramatist has ventured to
+depart somewhat from the letter, though not the spirit, of the original
+text, in his desire to enforce the moral to the fullest possible extent.
+Our present piece is intended to teach the great lesson that an
+inevitable Nemesis attends apple-stealing in this world, and that Doom
+cannot be disarmed by the intercession of the evil-doer's friends,
+however well-meaning.
+
+
+THE MAN-TRAP!
+
+_A THRILLING MORAL MUSICAL SENSATION SKETCH IN ONE SCENE._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+    _William_ (_a Good Boy_)                       Mr. HARRY NICHOLLS.
+    _Thomas_ (_a Bad Boy_)                         Mr. HERBERT CAMPBELL.
+             (_Who have kindly offered their services._)
+    _Benjamin_ (_neither one thing nor the other_) Mr. SAMUEL SUPER.
+    _The Monster Man-Trap_                         Mr. GEORGE CONQUEST.
+
+
+     SCENE.--_An elaborate set, representing, on extreme left, a
+     portion of the high road, and wall dividing it from an orchard;
+     realistic apple- and pear-trees laden with fruit. Time, about
+     four o'clock on a hot afternoon. Enter_ WILLIAM _and_ THOMAS,
+     _hand-in-hand, along road; they ignore the dividing wall, and
+     advance to front of stage._
+
+_Duet._--WILLIAM _and_ THOMAS.
+
+  _Wm._ I'm a reg'lar model boy, I am; so please make no mistake.
+          It's Thomas who's the bad 'un--_I'm_ the good!
+
+  _Thos._ Yes, I delight in naughtiness for naughtiness's sake,
+            And I wouldn't be like William if I could!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+  _Wm._ Ever since I could toddle, my conduct's been model,
+          There's, oh, such a difference between me and him!
+
+  _Thos._ While still in the cradle, I orders obeyed ill,
+            And now I've grown into a awful young limb!
+
+                       { he's }
+  _Together._ Yes, now { I've } grown into a awful young limb.
+           I've made up my mind not to imitate _him_!
+
+        [_Here they dance._
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ If someone hits him in the eye, he always hits them back!
+          When _I_ am struck, my Ma I merely tell!
+        On passing fat pigs in a lane, he'll give 'em each a whack!
+
+  _Thos._ (_impenitently_). And jolly fun it is to hear 'em yell!
+
+        [_Chorus._
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ He's always cribbing coppers--which he spends on lollipops.
+
+  _Thos._   (A share of which _you_'ve never yet refused!)
+
+  _Wm._ A stone he'll shy at frogs and toads, and anything that hops!
+
+  _Thos._   (While you look on, and seem to be amused!)
+
+        [_Chorus._
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ As soon as school is over, Thomas goes a hunting squirr'ls,
+          Or butterflies he'll capture in his hat!
+
+  _Thos._ _You_ play at Kissing in the Ring with all the little girls!
+
+  _Wm._ (_demurely_). Well, Thomas, I can see no harm in _that_!
+
+        [_Chorus._
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ Ah, Thomas, if you don't reform, you'll come to some bad end!
+
+  _Thos._   Oh, William, put your head inside a bag!
+
+  _Wm._ No, Thomas, that I cannot--till you promise to amend!
+
+  _Thos._   Why, William, what a chap you are to nag!
+
+     [_Chorus and dance._ THOMAS _returns to road, and regards the
+     apple-trees longingly over top of wall._
+
+  _Thos._ Hi, William, look ... what apples! there--don't _you_ see?
+          And pears--my eye! just _ain't_ they looking juicy!
+
+  _Wm._   Nay, Thomas, since you're bent upon a sin,
+          _I_ will walk on, and visit Benjamin!
+
+     [_Exit_ WILLIAM (L. 2 E.), _while THOMAS proceeds to scale the
+     wall and climb the boughs of the nearest pear-tree.
+     Melodramatic Music._ The Monster Man-trap _stealthily emerges
+     from long grass below, and fixes a baleful eye on the
+     unconscious_ THOMAS.
+
+  _Thos._ I'll fill my pockets, and on pears I'll feast!
+
+            [_Sees_ Man-trap, _and staggers._
+
+          Oh, lor--whatever is that hugly beast!
+          Hi, help, here! call him off!...
+
+  _The Monster._         'Tis vain to holler--
+          My horders are--all trespassers to swoller!
+          You just come down--I'm waiting 'ere to ketch you.
+      (_Indignantly._) You _don't_ expect I'm coming up to fetch you!
+
+  _Thos._ (_politely._) Oh, not if it would inconvenience _you_, Sir!
+      (_In agonised aside._) I feel my grip grow every moment looser!
+
+     [_The_ Monster, _in a slow, uncouth manner, proceeds to
+     scramble up the tree._
+
+          Oh, here's a go! The horrid thing can _climb_!
+          Too late I do repent me of my crime!
+
+     [_Terrific sensation chase!_ The Monster Man-trap _leaps from
+     bough to bough with horrible agility, and eventually secures
+     his prey, and leaps with it to the ground._
+
+  _Thos._ (_in the_ Monster's _jaws_). I'm sure you seem a kind,
+          good-natured creature--
+      You will not harm me?
+
+  _Monster._          No--I'll only eat yer!
+
+     [THOMAS _slowly vanishes down its cavernous jaws; faint yells
+     are heard at intervals--then nothing but a dull champing sound;
+     after which, dead silence. The_ Monster _smiles, with an air of
+     repletion._
+
+_Re-enter_ WILLIAM, _from_ R., _with_ BENJAMIN.
+
+  _Benjamin._ I'm very glad you came--but where is Thomas?
+
+  _Wm._ (_severely_). Tom is a wicked boy, and better from us,
+      For on the road he stopped to scale a wall!...
+
+         [_Sees_ Man-trap, _and starts._
+
+      What's _that_?
+
+  _Benj._       It will not hurt _good_ boys at all--
+        It's only Father's Man-trap--why so pale?
+
+  _Wm._ The self-same tree! ... the wall that Tom _would_ scale!
+          Where's Thomas _now_? Ah, Tom, the wilful pride of you.
+
+        [_The_ Man-trap _affects an elaborate unconsciousness._
+
+[Illustration: Up a Tree!]
+
+  _Benj._ (_with sudden enlightenment_). Man-trap, I do believe
+          poor Tom's inside of you!
+        That sort of smile's exceedingly suspicious.
+
+        [_The_ Man-trap _endeavours to hide in the grass._
+
+  _Wm._ Ah, Monster, give him back--'tis true he's vicious,
+        And had no business to go making free with you!
+        But think, so bad a boy will disagree with you!
+
+     [WILLIAM _and_ BENJAMIN _kneel in attitudes of entreaty on
+     either side of the_ Man-trap, _which shows signs of increasing
+     emotion as the song proceeds._
+
+  _Benjamin_ (_sings_).
+
+      Man-trap, bitter our distress is
+        That you have unkindly penned
+      In your innermost recesses
+        One who used to be our friend!
+
+  _William_ (_sings_).
+
+      In his downward course arrest him!
+        (He may take a virtuous tack);
+      Pause awhile, ere you digest him,
+        Make an effort--bring him back!
+
+     [_The_ Man-trap _is convulsed by a violent heave_; WILLIAM and
+     BENJAMIN _bend forward in an agony of expectation, until a
+     small shoe and the leg of_ THOMAS'S _pantaloons are finally
+     emitted from the_ Monster's _jaws._
+
+  _Benj._ (_exultantly_). See, William, now he's coming ... here's
+          his shoe for you!
+
+  _The Man-trap_ (_with an accent of genuine regret). I'm sorry--but
+          that's all that I can do for you!_
+
+  _Wm._ (_raising the shoe and the leg of pantaloons, and holding
+      them sorrowfully at arm's length_).
+      He's met the fate which moralists all promise is
+      The end of such depraved careers as Thomas's!
+      Oh, Benjamin, take warning by it _be_-time!
+      (_More brightly_). But now to wash our hands--'tis nearly tea-time!
+
+     [_Exeunt_ WILLIAM and BENJAMIN, _to wash their hands, as
+     Curtain falls. N.B. This finale is more truly artistic, and in
+     accordance with modern dramatic ideas, than the conventional
+     "picture."_
+
+
+
+
+IV.--THE FATAL PIN.
+
+
+Our present example is pure tragedy of the most ambitious kind, and is,
+perhaps, a little in advance of the taste of a Music-hall audience of
+the present day. When the fusion between the Theatres and the Music
+Halls is complete--when Miss Bessie Bellwood sings "_What Cheer, 'Ria?_"
+at the Lyceum, and Mr. Henry Irving gives his compressed version of
+_Hamlet_ at the Trocadero; when there is a general levelling-up of
+culture, and removal of prejudice--then, and not till then, will this
+powerful little play meet with the appreciation which is its due. The
+main idea is suggested by the Misses Taylor's well-known poem, _The
+Pin_, though the dramatist has gone further than the poetess in working
+out the notion of Nemesis.
+
+
+THE FATAL PIN.
+
+_A TRAGEDY._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+    _Emily Heedless._ By either Miss VESTA TILLEY or Mrs. BERNARD BEERE.
+
+    _Peter Paragon._ Mr. FORBES ROBERTSON or Mr. ARTHUR ROBERTS
+        (only he mustn't sing "_The Good Young Man who Died_").
+
+    _First and Second Bridesmaids._ Miss MAUDE MILLETT and Miss
+    ANNIE HUGHES.
+
+
+     SCENE.--EMILY'S _Boudoir, sumptuously furnished with a screen
+     and sofa,_ C. _Door_, R., _leading to_ EMILY'S _Bed-chamber.
+     Door,_ L. EMILY _discovered in loose wrapper, and reclining in
+     uncomfortable position on sofa._
+
+  _Emily_ (_dreamily_). This day do I become the envied bride
+    Of Peter, justly surnamed Paragon;
+    And much I wonder what in me he found
+    (He, who Perfection so personifies)
+    That he could condescend an eye to cast
+    On faulty feather-headed Emily!
+    How solemn is the stillness all around me!
+
+        [_A loud bang is heard behind screen._
+
+    Methought I heard the dropping of a pin!--
+    Perhaps I should arise and search for it....
+    Yet why, on second thoughts, disturb myself,
+    Since I am, by my settlements, to have
+    A handsome sum allowed for pin-money?
+    Nay, since thou claim'st thy freedom, little pin,
+    I lack the heart to keep thee prisoner.
+    Go, then, and join the great majority
+    Of fallen, vagrant, unregarded pinhood--
+    My bliss is too supreme at such an hour
+    To heed such infidelities as thine.
+
+        [_Falls into a happy reverie._
+
+_Enter_ First and Second Bridesmaids.
+
+  _First and Second Bridesmaids._ What, how now, Emily--not yet attired?
+    Nay, haste, for Peter will be here anon!
+
+     [_They hurry her off by_ R. _door, just as_ PETER PARAGON
+     _enters_ L. _in bridal array. N.B.--The exigencies of the Drama
+     are responsible for his making his appearance here, instead of
+     waiting, as is more usual, at the church._
+
+  _Peter_ (_meditatively_). The golden sands of my celibacy
+    Are running low--soon falls the final grain!
+    Yet, even now, the glass I would not turn.
+    My Emily is not without her faults
+    "_Was_ not without them," I should rather say,
+    For during ten idyllic years of courtship,
+
+[Illustration: "It is a Pin!"]
+
+    By precept and example I have striven
+    To mould her to a helpmate fit for me.
+    Now, thank the Gods, my labours are complete.
+    She stands redeemed from all her giddiness!
+
+        [_Here he steps upon the pin, and utters an exclamation._
+
+    Ha! What is this? I'm wounded ... agony!
+    With what a darting pain my foot's transfixed!
+    I'll summon help (_with calm courage_)--yet, stay, I would not dim
+    This nuptial day by any sombre cloud.
+    I'll bear this stroke alone--and now to probe
+    The full extent of my calamity.
+
+     [_Seats himself on sofa in such a position as to be concealed
+     by the screen from all but the audience, and proceeds to remove
+     his boot._
+
+    Ye powers of Perfidy, it is a pin!
+    I must know more of this--for it is meet
+    Such criminal neglect should be exposed.
+    Severe shall be that house-maid's punishment
+    Who's proved to be responsible for this!--
+    But soft, I hear a step.
+
+     [_Enter_ First _and_ Second Bridesmaids, _who hunt diligently
+     upon the carpet without observing_ Peter's _presence._
+
+  _Emily's Voice_ (_within_). Oh, search, I pray you.
+    It _must_ be there--my own ears heard it fall!
+
+        [PETER _betrays growing uneasiness._
+
+  _The Bridesmaids._ Indeed, we fail to see it anywhere!
+
+  _Emily_ (_entering distractedly in bridal costume, with a large rent in
+her train_).
+
+    You have no eyes, I tell you, let me help.
+    It must be found, or I am all undone!
+    In vain my cushion I have cut in two
+    'Twas void of all but stuffing ... Gracious Heavens,
+    To think that all my future bliss depends
+    On the evasive malice of a pin!
+
+        [PETER _behind screen, starts violently._
+
+  _Peter_ (_aside_). A pin! what dire misgivings wring my heart!
+
+     [Hops forward with a cold dignity, holding one foot in his
+     hand.
+
+    You seem in some excitement, Emily?
+
+  _Emily_ (_wildly_). _You_, Peter!... tell me--have you found a pin?
+
+  _Peter_ (_with deadly calm_). Unhappy girl--I _have_!
+          (_To_ Bridesmaids.) Withdraw awhile,
+      And should we need you, we will summon you.
+
+     [_Exeunt_ Bridesmaids; EMILY _and_ PETER _stand facing each
+     other for some moments in dead silence._
+
+    The pin is found--for I have trodden on it,
+    And may, for aught I know, be lamed for life.
+    Speak, Emily, what is that maid's desert
+    Whose carelessness has led to this mishap?
+
+  _Emily_ (_in the desperate hope of shielding herself_).
+    Why, should the fault he traced to any maid,
+    Instant dismissal shall be her reward,
+    With a month's wages paid in lieu of notice!
+
+  _Peter_ (_with a passionless severity_).
+    From your own lips I judge you, Emily.
+    Did they not own just now that you had heard
+    The falling of a pin--yet heeded not?
+    Behold the outcome of your negligence!
+
+        [_Extends his injured foot._
+
+  _Emily_.   Oh, let me kiss the place and make it well!
+
+  _Peter_ (_coldly withdrawing foot_).   Keep your caresses till
+        I ask for them.
+    My wound goes deeper than you wot of yet,
+    And by that disregarded pin is pricked
+    The iridescent bubble of Illusion!
+
+  _Emily_ (_slowly_). Indeed, I do not wholly comprehend.
+
+  _Peter._ Have patience and I will be plainer yet.
+    Mine is a complex nature, Emily;
+    Magnanimous, but still methodical.
+    An injury I freely can forgive,
+    Forget it (_striking his chest_), never! She who leaves about
+    Pins on the floor to pierce a lover's foot,
+    Will surely plant a thorn within the side
+    Of him whose fate it is to be her husband!
+
+  _Emily_ (_dragging herself towards him on her knees_).
+    Have pity on me, Peter; I was mad!
+
+  _Peter_ (_with emotion_). How can I choose but pity thee, poor soul,
+    Who, for the sake of temporary ease,
+    Hast forfeited the bliss that had been thine!
+    You could not stoop to pick a pin up. Why?
+    Because, forsooth, 'twas but a paltry pin!
+    Yet, duly husbanded, that self-same pin
+    Had served you to secure your gaping train,
+    Your self-respect--and Me.
+
+  _Emily_ (_wailing_). What have I done?
+
+  _Peter_. I will not now reproach you, Emily,
+    Nor would I dwell upon my wounded sole,
+    The pain of which increases momently.
+    I part from you in friendship, and in proof,
+    That fated instrument I leave with you
+
+     [_Presenting her with the pin, which she accepts mechanically._
+
+    Which the frail link between us twain has severed.
+    I can dispense with it, for in my cuff
+
+     [_Shows her his coat-cuff, in which a row of pins'-heads is
+     perceptible._
+
+    I carry others 'gainst a time of need.
+    My poor success in life I trace to this
+    That never yet I passed a pin unheeded.
+
+  _Emily._ And is that all you have to say to me?
+
+  _Peter._ I think so--save that I shall wish you well,
+    And pray that henceforth you may bear in mind
+    What vast importance lies in seeming trifles.
+
+  _Emily_ (_with a pale smile_). Peter, your lesson is already learned,
+    For precious has this pin become for me,
+    Since by its aid I gain oblivion--thus!    [_Stabs herself._
+
+  _Peter_ (_coldly._) Nay, these are histrionics, Emily.
+
+        [_Assists her to sofa._
+
+  _Emily._ I'd skill enough to find a vital spot.
+    Do not withdraw it yet--my time is short,
+    And I have much to say before I die.
+    (_Faintly._) Be gentle with my rabbits when I'm gone;
+    Give my canary chickweed now and then.
+    ... I think there is no more--ah, one last word--
+    (_Earnestly_)--Warn them they must not cut our wedding-cake,
+    And then the pastrycook may take it back!
+
+  _Peter_ (_deeply moved_). Would you had shown this
+        thoughtfulness before!    [_Kneels by the sofa._
+
+  _Emily._ 'Tis now too late, and clearly do I see
+    That I was never worthy of you, Peter.
+
+  _Peter_ (_gently_). 'Tis not for me to contradict you now.
+    You did your best to be so, Emily!
+
+  _Emily._ A blessing on you for those generous words!
+    Now tell me, Peter, how is your poor foot?
+
+  _Peter._ The agony decidedly abates,
+    And I can almost bear a boot again.
+
+  _Emily._ Then I die happy!... Kiss me, Peter ... ah!
+
+        [_Dies_.
+
+  _Peter._ In peace she passed away. I'm glad of that,
+    Although that peace was purchased by a lie.
+    I shall not bear a boot for many days!
+    Thus ends our wedding morn, and she, poor child,
+    Has paid the penalty of heedlessness!
+
+     [_Curtain falls, whereupon, unless Mr. Punch is greatly
+     mistaken, there will not be a dry eye in the house._
+
+
+
+
+V.--BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE.
+
+_A MELODRAMATIC DIDACTIC VAUDEVILLE._
+
+_Suggested by "The Wooden Doll and the Wax Doll," by the Misses Jane and
+Ann Taylor._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+    _Blanchidine,_ } By the celebrated Sisters STILTON, the Champion
+    _Brunette._    }      Duettists and Clog-Dancers.
+
+    _Fanny Furbelow._ By Miss SYLVIA SEALSKIN (_by kind permission of
+                             the Gaiety Management_).
+
+    _Frank Manly._ By Mr. HENRY NEVILLE.
+
+
+    SCENE--_A sunny Glade in Kensington Gardens, between the
+    Serpentine and Round Pond._
+
+_Enter_ BLANCHIDINE _and_ BRUNETTE, _with their arms thrown
+affectionately around one another._ BLANCHIDINE _is carrying a large and
+expressionless wooden doll._
+
+_Duet and Step-dance._
+
+  _Bl._ Oh, I do adore BRUNETTE! (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity,
+    tappity-tippity, tippity-tappity, tip-tap!
+
+  _Br._ BLANCHIDINE'S the sweetest pet! (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.
+
+  _Together._        When the sun is high,
+                     We come out to ply,
+                     Nobody is nigh,
+                     All is mirth and j'y!
+                     With a pairosol,
+                     We'll protect our doll,
+                     Make a mossy bed
+                     For her wooden head!
+
+     [_Combination step-dance during which both watch their feet
+     with an air of detached and slightly amused interest, as if
+     they belonged to some other persons._
+
+    Clickity-clack, clickity-clack, clickity, clickity, clickity-clack;
+    clackity-clickity, clickity-clackity, clackity-clickity-_clack_!
+
+        [_Repeat ad. lib._
+
+  _Bl._ (_apologetically to Audience_). Her taste in dress is rather plain!
+        (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.
+
+  _Br._ (_in pitying aside_). It _is_ a pity she's so vain!
+        (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.
+
+  _Bl._              'Tis a shime to smoile,
+                     But she's shocking stoyle,
+                     It is quite a troyal,
+                     Still--she mikes a foil!
+
+  _Br._              Often I've a job
+                     To suppress a sob,
+                     She is such a snob,
+                     When she meets a nob!
+
+        [_Step-dance as before._
+
+     [N.B.--_In consideration of the well-known difficulty that most
+     popular Variety-Artists experience in the metrical delivery of
+     decasyllabic couplets, the lines which follow have been written
+     as they will most probably be spoken._
+
+  _Bl._ (_looking off with alarm_). Why, here comes Fanny
+        Furbelow, a new frock from Paris in!
+    She'll find me with Brunette--it's _too_ embarrassing!
+
+        [_Aside._
+
+    (_To Brunette._) Brunette, my love, I know _such_ a pretty
+        game we'll play at--
+    Poor Timburina's ill, and the seaside she ought to stay at.
+    (The Serpentine's the seaside, let's pretend.)
+    And _you_ shall take her there--(_hypocritically_)--you're
+        such a friend!
+
+  _Br._ (_with simplicity_). Oh, yes, that _will_ be splendid, Blanchidine,
+    And then we can go and have a dip in a bathing-machine!
+
+     [BLAN. _resigns the wooden doll to_ BRUN., _who skips off with
+     it_, L., _as_ FANNY FURBELOW _enters_ R., _carrying a
+     magnificent wax doll_.
+
+  _Fanny_ (_languidly_). Ah, howdy do--_isn't_ this heat too
+    frightful? And so you're quite alone?
+
+  _Bl._ (_nervously._) Oh, _quite_--oh yes, I always am alone,
+    when there's nobody with me.
+
+     [_This is a little specimen of the Lady's humorous "gag," at
+     which she is justly considered a proficient._
+
+  _Fanny_ (_drawling_).      Delightful!
+    When I was wondering, only a little while ago,
+    If I should meet a creature that I know;
+    Allow me--my new doll, the Lady Minnie!
+
+        [_Introducing doll._
+
+  _Bl._ (_rapturously_). Oh, what a perfect love!
+
+  _Fanny._                  She ought to be--for a guinea!
+    Here, you may nurse her for a little while.
+    Be careful, for her frock's the latest style.
+
+        [_Gives_ BLAN. _the wax doll_.
+
+    She's the best wax, and has three changes of clothing--
+    For those cheap wooden dolls I've quite a loathing.
+
+  _Bl._ (_hastily_). Oh, so have _I_--they're not to be endured!
+
+_Re-enter_ BRUNETTE _with the wooden doll, which she tries to press
+upon_ BLANCHIDINE, _much to the latter's confusion_.
+
+  _Br._ I've brought poor Timburina back, completely cured!
+    Why, aren't you pleased? Your face is looking _so_ cloudy!
+
+  _F._ (_haughtily_). Is she a friend of _yours_--this little
+        dowdy?    [_Slow music._
+
+  _Bl._ (_after an internal struggle_). Oh, no, what an idea!
+    Why, I don't even know her by name!
+    Some vulgar child ...
+
+        [_Lets the wax doll fall unregarded on the gravel._
+
+  _Br._ (_indignantly_). Oh, what a horrid shame!
+    I see _now_ why you sent us to the Serpentine!
+
+  _Bl._ (_heartlessly_). There's no occasion to flare up like turpentine.
+
+  _Br._ (_ungrammatically_). I'm _not_! Disown your doll, and
+        thrust me, too, aside!
+    The one thing left for both of us is--suicide!
+    Yes, Timburina, us no more she cherishes--
+    (_Bitterly._) Well, the Round Pond a handy place to perish is!
+
+        [_Rushes off stage with wooden doll._
+
+  _Bl._ (_making a feeble attempt to follow_). Come back,
+    Brunette; don't leave me thus, in charity!
+
+  _F._ (_with contempt_). Well, I'll be off--since you seem to
+        prefer vulgarity.
+
+  _Bl._ No, stay--but--ah, she said--what if she _meant_ it?
+
+  _F._ Not she! And, if she did, _we_ can't prevent it.
+
+  _Bl._ (_relieved_). That's true--we'll play, and think no more about her.
+
+  _F._ (_sarcastically_). We may _just_ manage to get on without her!
+    So come----(_Perceives doll lying face upwards on path._)
+    You odious girl, what have you done?
+    Left Lady Minnie lying in the blazing sun!
+    'Twas done on purpose--oh, you _thing_ perfidious!    [_Stamps._
+    You _knew_ she'd melt, and get completely hideous!
+    Don't answer _me_, Miss--I wish we'd never met.
+    You're only fit for persons like Brunette!
+
+        [_Picks up doll, and exit in passion._
+
+_Grand Sensation Descriptive Soliloquy, by_ BLANCHIDINE, _to
+Melodramatic Music_.
+
+  _Bl._ Gone! Ah, I am rightly punished! What would I not give now to have
+homely little Brunette, and dear old wooden-headed Timburina back again!
+_She_ wouldn't melt in the sun.... Where are they now? Great Heavens!
+that threat--that rash resolve ... I remember all! 'Twas in the
+direction of the Pond they vanished. (_Peeping anxiously between
+trees._) Are they still in sight? ... Yes, I see them? Brunette has
+reached the water's edge ... What is she purposing! Now she kneels on
+the rough gravel; she is making Timburina kneel too! How calm and
+resolute they both appear! (_Shuddering._) I dare not look further--but
+ah, I must--_I must_!... Horror! I saw her boots flash for an instant in
+the bright sunlight: and now the ripples have closed, smiling, over her
+little black stockings!... Help!--save her, somebody!--help!... Joy! a
+gentleman has appeared on the scene--how handsome, how brave he looks!
+He has taken in the situation at a glance! With quiet composure he
+removes his coat--oh, _don't_ trouble about folding it up!--and why,
+_why_ remove your gloves, when there is not a moment to be lost? Now,
+with many injunctions, he entrusts his watch to a bystander, who
+retires, overcome by emotion. And now--oh, gallant, heroic soul!--now he
+is sending his toy-terrier into the seething water! (_Straining_
+_eagerly forward._) Ah, the dog paddles bravely out--he has reached the
+spot ... oh, he has passed it!--he is trying to catch a duck! Dog, dog,
+_is_ this a time for pursuing ducks? At last he understands--he dives
+... he brings up--agony! a small tin cup! Again ... _this_ time,
+surely--what, only an old pot-hat!... Oh, this dog is a fool! And still
+the Round Pond holds its dread secret! Once more ... yes--no, yes, it
+_is_ Timburina! Thank Heaven, she yet breathes! But Brunette?
+Can she have stuck in the mud at the bottom? Ha, she, too, is
+rescued--saved--ha-ha-ha!--saved, saved, saved!
+
+        [_Swoons hysterically amid deafening applause._
+
+[Illustration: "Saved--ha-ha-ha!"]
+
+  _Enter_ FRANK MANLY _supporting_ BRUNETTE, _who carries_ TIMBURINA.
+
+  _Bl._ (_wildly_). What, do I see you safe, beloved Brunette?
+
+  _Br._ Yes, thanks to his courage, I'm not even _wet_!
+
+  _Frank_ (_modestly_). Nay, spare your compliments. To rescue Beauty,
+    When in distress, is every hero's duty!
+
+  _Bl._ Brunette, forgive--I'm cured of all my folly!
+
+  _Br._ (_heartily_). Of course I will, my dear, and so will dolly!
+
+     [_Grand Trio and Step-dance, with "tippity-tappity," and
+     "clickity-clack" refrain as finale._
+
+
+
+
+VI.--COMING OF AGE.
+
+
+Our present Drama represents an attempt to illustrate upon the
+Music-hall stage the eternal truth that race _will_ tell in the long
+run, despite--but, on second thoughts, it does not _quite_ prove that,
+though it certainly shows the unerring accuracy of parental--at least,
+that is not exactly its tendency, either; and the fact is that _Mr.
+Punch_ is more than a little mixed himself as to the precise theory
+which it is designed to enforce. He hopes, however, that, as a realistic
+study of Patrician life and manners, it will possess charms for a
+democratic audience.
+
+
+COMING OF AGE.
+
+_A GRAND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGICAL COMEDY-DRAMA IN ONE ACT._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+    _The Earl of Burntalmond._
+
+    _The Countess of Burntalmond (his wife)._
+
+    _Robert Henry Viscount Bullsaye (their son and heir)._
+
+    _The Lady Rose Caramel (niece to the Earl)._
+
+    _Horehound_            } Travelling as "The Celebrated Combination
+    _Mrs. Horehound_       }   Korffdropp Troupe," in their refined and
+    _Coltsfoot Horehound_  }   elegant Drawing-room Entertainment.
+
+    _Tenantry._
+
+
+     SCENE--_The Great Quadrangle of Hardbake Castle; banners,
+     mottoes, decorations, &c. On the steps_, R., _the Earl,_
+     supported by his wife, son, and niece, is discovered in the act
+     of concluding a speech to six tenantry, who display all the
+     enthusiasm that is reasonably to be expected at nine-pence a
+     night.
+
+  _The Earl_ (_patting_ Lord BULLSAYE'S _shoulder_). I might say more,
+Gentlemen, in praise of my dear son, Lord Bullsaye, here--I might dwell
+on his extreme sweetness, his strongly marked character, the variety of
+his tastes, and the singular attraction he has for children of all
+ages--but I forbear. I will merely announce that on this day--the day he
+has selected for attaining his majority--he has gratified us all by
+plighting troth to his cousin, the Lady Rose Caramel, with whose dulcet
+and clinging disposition he has always possessed the greatest natural
+affinity.
+     [_Cheers._
+
+  _Lord Bullsaye_ (_aside to_ Lady R.). Ah, Rose, would such happiness
+could last! But my heart misgives me strangely--why, I know not.
+
+  _Lady R._ Say not so, dear Bullsaye--have you not just rendered me the
+happiest little Patrician in the whole peerage?
+
+  _Lord B._ 'Tis true--and yet, and yet--pooh, let me snatch the present
+hour!
+     [_Snatches it._
+
+  _The Earl._ And now, let the Revels commence.
+
+_Enter the_ Korffdropp Troupe, _who give their marvellous Entertainment,
+entitled, "The Three Surprise Packets;" after which_--
+
+  _Horehound._ This will conclude the first portion of our Entertainment,
+Lords, Ladies, _and_ Gentlemen; and, while my wife and pardner retires
+to change her costoom for the Second Part, I should be glad of the
+hoppertoonity of a short pussonal hexplanation with the noble Herl on my
+right.
+
+        [_Exit_ Mrs. HOREHOUND.
+
+  _The Earl_ (_graciously_). I will hear you, fellow! (_Aside._) Strange
+how familiar his features seem to me!
+
+  _Horeh._ The fact is, your Lordship's celebrating the coming of hage of
+the _wrong heir_. (_Sensation--i.e., the six tenantry shift from one leg
+to the other, and murmur feebly._) Oh, I can prove it. Twenty-one years
+ago--(_slow music_)--I was in your Lordship's service as gamekeeper,
+'ead whip, and hextry waiter. My son and yours was born the selfsame
+day, and my hold dutch was selected to hact as foster-mother to the
+youthful lord. Well--(_tells a long, and not entirely original, story;
+marvellous resemblance between infants, only distinguishable by green
+and magenta bows, &c., &c._) Soon after, your Lordship discharged me at
+a moment's notice----
+
+  _The Earl_ (_haughtily_). I did, upon discovering that you were in the
+habit of surreptitiously carrying off kitchen-stuff, concealed within
+your umbrella. But proceed with your narration.
+
+  _Horeh._ I swore to be avenged, and so--(_common form again; the shifted
+bows_)--consequently, as a moment's reflection will convince you, the
+young man on the steps, in the button-'ole and tall 'at, is my lawful
+son, while the real Viscount is--(_presenting_ COLTSFOOT, _who advances
+modestly on his hands_)--'ere!
+
+        [_Renewed sensation._
+
+  _The Earl._ This is indeed a startling piece of intelligence. (_To_ Lord
+B.) And so, Sir, it appears that your whole life has been one consistent
+imposition--a gilded _lie_?
+
+  _Lord B._ Let my youth and inexperience at the time, Sir, plead as my
+best excuse!
+
+  _The E._ Nothing can excuse the fact that you--you, a low-born son of
+the people, have monopolised the training, the tenderness and education,
+which were the due of your Patrician foster-brother. (_To_ COLTSFOOT.)
+Approach, my injured, long-lost boy, and tell me how I may atone for
+these years of injustice and neglect!
+
+  _Colts._ Well, Guv'nor, if you could send out for a pot o' four arf, it
+'ud be a _beginning_, like.
+
+  _The E._ You shall have every luxury that befits your rank, but first
+remove that incongruous garb.
+
+  _Colts._ (_to_ Lord B.). These 'ere togs belong to _you_ now, young
+feller, and I reckon exchange ain't no robbery.
+
+  _Lord B._ (_with emotion, to_ Countess). Mother, can you endure to
+behold your son in tights and spangles on the very day of his majority?
+
+  _Countess_ (_coldly_). On the contrary, it is my wish to see him attired
+as soon as possible, in a more appropriate costume.
+
+  _Lord B._ (_to_ Lady R.). Rose, _you_, at least, have not changed? Tell
+me you will love me still even on the precarious summit of an acrobat's
+pole!
+
+  _Lady Rose_ (_scornfully_). Really the presumptuous familiarity of the
+lower orders is perfectly appalling!
+
+  _The Earl_ (_to_ Countess, _as_ Lord B. _and_ COLTSFOOT _retire to
+exchange costumes_). At last, Pauline, I understand why I could never
+feel towards Bullsaye the affection of a parent. Often have I reproached
+myself for a coldness I could not overcome.
+
+  _Countess._ And I too! Nature was too strong for us. But, oh, the joy of
+recovering our son--of finding him so strong, so supple, so agile. Never
+yet has our line boasted an heir who can feed himself from a fork
+strapped on to his dexter heel!
+
+  _The E._ (_with emotion_). Our beloved, boneless boy!
+
+     [_Re-enter_ COLTSFOOT _in modern dress, and_ Lord B. _in
+     tights_.
+
+  _Colts._ Don't I look slap-up--O.K. and no mistake? Oh, I _am_ 'aving a
+beano!
+
+  _All._ What easy gaiety, and unforced animation!
+
+  _The E._ My dear boy, let me present you to your _fiancee_. Rose, my
+love, this is your _legitimate_ lover.
+
+  _Colts._ Oh, all right, _I've_ no objections--on'y there'll be ructions
+with the young woman in the tight-rope line as I've been keepin' comp'ny
+with--that's all!
+
+  _The E._ Your foster-brother will act as your substitute there.
+(_Proudly._) _My_ son must make no _mesalliance_!
+
+  _Rose_ (_timidly_). And, if it would give you any pleasure, I'm sure I
+could soon learn the tight-rope!
+
+  _Colts._ Not at _your_ time o' life, Miss, and besides, 'ang it, now I'm
+a lord, I can't have my wife doin' nothing low!
+
+  _The E._ Spoken like a true Burntalmond! And now let the revels
+re-commence.
+
+[Illustration: Lord B. in tights.]
+
+        [_Re-enter_ Mrs. Horehound.
+
+  _Horeh._ (_to_ Lord B.). Now then, stoopid, tumble, can't you--what are
+you 'ere _for_?
+
+  _Lord B._ (_to the_ Earl). Since it is your command, I obey, though it
+is ill tumbling with a heavy heart!
+
+        [_Turns head over heels laboriously._
+
+  _Colts._ Call _that_ a somersault? 'Ere, 'old my 'at (_giving tall hat
+to_ Lady R.) _I'll_ show yer 'ow to do a turn.
+
+        [_Throws a triple somersault._
+
+  _All._ What condescension! How his aristocratic superiority is betrayed,
+even in competition with those to the manner born!
+
+  _Mrs. Horeh._ (_still in ignorance of the transformation_). Halt! I have
+kept silence till now--even from my husband, but the time has come when
+I _must_ speak. Think you that if he were indeed a lord, he could turn
+such somersaults as those? No--no. I will reveal all. (_Tells same old
+story--except that she herself from ambitious motives transposed the
+infants' bows._) Now, do with me what you will!
+
+  _Horeh._ Confusion, so my ill-judged action did but redress the wrong I
+designed to effect!
+
+  _The E._ (_annoyed_). This is a serious matter, reflecting as it does
+upon the legitimacy of my lately recovered son. What proof have you,
+woman, of your preposterous allegation?
+
+  _Mrs. H._ None, my lord,--but these--
+
+        [_Exhibits two faded bunches of ribbon._
+
+  _The E._ I cannot resist such overwhelming evidence, fight against it as
+I may.
+
+  _Lord B._ (_triumphantly_). And so--oh, Father, Mother, Rose--dear, dear
+Rose--I am no acrobat, after all!
+
+  _The E._ (_sternly_). Would you were anything half so serviceable to the
+community, Sir! I have no superstitious reverence for rank, and am, I
+trust, sufficiently enlightened to discern worth and merit--even beneath
+the spangled vest of the humblest acrobat. Your foster-brother, brief as
+our acquaintance has been, has already endeared himself to all hearts,
+while you have borne a trifling reverse of fortune with sullen
+discontent and conspicuous incapacity. He has perfected himself in a
+lofty and distinguished profession during years spent by _you_, Sir, in
+idly cumbering the earth of Eton and Oxford. Shall I allow him to suffer
+by a purely accidental coincidence? Never! I owe him reparation, and it
+shall be paid to the uttermost penny. From this day, I adopt him as my
+eldest son, and the heir to my earldom, and all other real and personal
+effects. See, Robert Henry, that you treat your foster-brother as your
+senior in future!
+
+  _Colts._ (_to_ Lord B.). Way-oh, ole matey, I don't bear no malice, _I_
+don't! Give us your dooks.
+     [_Offering hand._
+
+  _The C._ Ah, Bullsaye, try to be worthy of such generosity!
+
+        [Lord B. _grasps_ COLTSFOOT'S _hand in silence_.
+
+  _Lady Rose._ And pray, understand that, whether Mr. Coltsfoot be
+viscount or acrobat, it can make no difference whatever to the
+disinterested affection with which I have lately learnt to regard him.
+
+        [_Gives her hand to_ COLTSFOOT, _who squeezes it with ardour_.
+
+  _Colts._ (_pleasantly_). Well, Father, Mother, your noble Herlship and
+Lady, foster-brother Bullsaye, and my pretty little sweetart 'ere, what
+do you all say to goin' inside and shunting a little garbage, and
+shifting a drop or so of lotion, eh?
+
+  _The E._ A most sensible suggestion, my boy. Let us make these ancient
+walls the scene of the blithest--ahem!--_beano_ they have ever yet
+beheld!
+
+     [_Cheers from Tenantry, as the_ Earl _leads the way into the
+     Castle with_ Mrs. HOREHOUND, _followed by_ HOREHOUND _with the_
+     Countess _and_ COLTSFOOT _with_ Lady ROSE, Lord BULLSAYE,
+     _discomfited and abashed, entering last as Curtain falls_.
+
+
+
+
+VII.--RECLAIMED!
+
+OR, HOW LITTLE ELFIE TAUGHT HER GRANDMOTHER.
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Lady Belledame_ (_a Dowager of the deepest dye_).
+
+    _Monkshood_ (_her Steward, and confidential Minion_).
+
+    _Little Elfie_ (_an Angel Child_). This part has been specially
+        constructed for that celebrated Infant Actress, Banjoist, and
+        Variety Comedienne, Miss BIRDIE CALLOWCHICK.
+
+
+    SCENE--_The Panelled Room at Nightshade Hall._
+
+  _Lady Belledame_ (_discovered preparing parcels_). Old and unloved!--yes
+the longer I live, the more plainly do I perceive that I am _not_ a
+popular old woman. Have I not acquired the reputation in the County of
+being a witch? My neighbour, Sir Vevey Long, asked me publicly only the
+other day "when I would like my broom ordered," and that minx, Lady
+Violet Powdray, has pointedly mentioned old cats in my hearing!
+Pergament, my family lawyer, has declined to act for me any longer,
+merely because Monkshood rack-rented some of the tenants a little too
+energetically in the Torture Chamber--as if in these hard times one was
+not justified in putting the screw on! Then the villagers scowl when I
+pass; the very children shrink from me--[_A childish Voice outside
+window,_ "Yah, 'oo sold 'erself to Old Bogie for a pound o' tea an' a
+set o' noo teeth?"]--that is, when they do not insult me by suggestions
+of bargains that are not even businesslike! No matter--I will be avenged
+upon them all--ay, all! 'Tis Christmas-time--the season at which
+sentimental fools exchange gifts and good wishes. For once I, too, will
+distribute a few seasonable presents.... (_Inspecting parcels._) Are my
+arrangements complete? The bundle of choice cigars, in each of which a
+charge of nitro-glycerine has been dexterously inserted? The lip-salve,
+made up from my own prescription with corrosive sublimate by a venal
+chemist in the vicinity? The art flower-pot, containing a fine specimen
+of the Upas plant, swathed in impermeable sacking? The sweets compounded
+with sugar of lead? The packet of best ratsbane? Yes, nothing has been
+omitted. Now to summon my faithful Monkshood.... Ha! he is already at
+hand.
+
+        [_Chord as_ MONKSHOOD _enters_.
+
+  _Monkshood._ Your Ladyship, a child, whose sole luggage is a small
+bandbox and a large banjo, is without, and requests the favour of a
+personal interview.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_reproachfully_). And you, who have been with me all these
+years, and know my ways, omitted to let loose the bloodhounds? You grow
+careless, Monkshood!
+
+  _Monks._ (_wounded_). Your Ladyship is unjust--I _did_ unloose the
+bloodhounds; but the ferocious animals merely sat up and begged. The
+child had took the precaution to provide herself with a bun!
+
+  _Lady B._ No matter, she must be removed--I care not how.
+
+  _Monks._ There may be room for one more--a little one--in the old well.
+The child mentioned that she was your Ladyship's granddaughter, but I
+presume that will make no difference?
+
+  _Lady B._ (_disquieted_). What!--then she must be the child of my only
+son Poldoodle, whom, for refusing to cut off the entail, I had falsely
+accused of adulterating milk, and transported beyond the seas! She
+comes hither to denounce and reproach me! Monkshood, she must not leave
+this place alive--you hear?
+
+  _Monks._ I require no second bidding--ha, the child ... she comes!
+
+     [_Chord. Little_ ELFIE _trips in with touching
+     self-confidence._
+
+  _Elfie_ (_in a charming little Cockney accent_). Yes, Grandma, it's
+me--little Elfie, come all the way from Australia to see you, because I
+thought you must be sow lownly all by yourself! My Papa often told me
+what a long score he owed you, and how he hoped to pay you off if he
+lived. But he went out to business one day--Pa was a bushranger, you
+know, and worked--oh, _so_ hard; and never came back to his little
+Elfie, so poor little Elfie has come to live with you!
+
+  _Monks._ Will you have the child removed now, my Lady?
+
+  _Lady B._ (_undecidedly_). Not now--not yet; I have other work for you.
+These Christmas gifts, to be distributed amongst my good friends and
+neighbours (_handing parcels_). First, this bundle of cigars to Sir
+Vevey Long with my best wishes that such a connoisseur in tobacco may
+find them sufficiently strong. The salve for Lady Violet Powdray, with
+my love, and it should be rubbed on the last thing at night. The plant
+you will take to the little Pergaments--'twill serve them for a
+Christmas tree. This packet to be diluted in a barrel of beer, which you
+will see broached upon the village green; these sweetmeats for
+distribution among the most deserving of the school-children.
+
+  _Elfie_ (_throwing her arms around Lady B.'s neck_). I _do_ like you,
+Grandma, you have such a kind face! And oh, what pains you must have
+taken to find something that will do for everybody!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_disengaging herself peevishly_). Yes, yes, child. I trust
+that what I have chosen will indeed do for everybody,--but I do not
+like to be messed about. Monkshood, you know what you have to do.
+
+  _Elfie._ Oh, I am sure he does, Grandma! See how benevolently he smiles.
+You're such a good old man, you will take care that all the poor people
+are fed, _won't_ you?
+
+[Illustration: Little Elfie.]
+
+  _Monks._ (_with a sinister smile_). Ah! Missie, I've 'elped to settle a
+many people's 'ash in my time!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_innocently_). What, do they all get hash? How nice! I like
+hash,--but what else do you give them?
+
+  _Monks._ (_grimly_). Gruel, Missie. (_Aside._) I must get out of this,
+or this innocent child's prattle will unman me!
+
+        [_Exit with parcels._
+
+  _Elfie._ You seem so sad and troubled, Grandma. Let me sing you one of
+the songs with which I drew a smile from poor dear Pa in happier days.
+
+  _Lady B._ No, no, some other time. (_Aside._) Pshaw! why should I dread
+the effect of her simple melodies? (_Aloud._) Sing, child, if you will.
+
+  _Elfie._ How glad I am that I brought my banjo!    [_Sings._
+
+    _Dar is a lubly yaller gal dat tickles me to deff;
+    She'll dance de room ob darkies down, and take away deir breff.
+    When she sits down to supper, ebery coloured gemple-man,
+    As she gets her upper lip o'er a plate o' "possom dip," cries,
+        "Woa, Lucindy Ann!"_ (Chorus, dear Granny!)
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    _Woa, Lucindy!   Woa, Lucindy!   Woa, Lucindy Ann!
+    At de rate dat you are stuffin, you will nebber leave us nuffin;
+         so woa, Miss Sindy Ann!_
+
+  _To Lady B._ (_who, after joining in chorus with deep emotion, has burst
+into tears_). Why, you are _weeping_, dear Grandmother!
+
+  _Lady B._ Nay, 'tis nothing, child--but have you no songs which are less
+sad?
+
+  _Elfie._ Oh, yes, I know plenty of plantation ditties more cheerful than
+that. (_Sings._)
+
+    _Oh, I hear a gentle whisper from de days ob long ago,
+      When I used to be a happy darkie slave.
+                                            [Trump-a-trump!
+    But now I'se got to labour wif the shovel an' de hoe--
+      For ole Massa lies a sleepin' in his grave!
+                                            [Trump-trump!_
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    _Poor ole Massa!   Poor ole Massa!_   (Pianissimo.)   _Poor ole
+    Massa, that I nebber more shall see!
+    He was let off by de Jury, Way down in old Missouri--But
+    dey lynched him on a persimmon tree._
+
+  _Elfie._ You smile at last, dear Grandma! I would sing to you again, but
+I am so very, very sleepy!
+
+  _Lady B._ Poor child, you have had a long journey. Rest awhile on this
+couch, and I will arrange this screen so as to protect your slumbers.
+     [_Leads little_ ELFIE _to couch_.
+
+  _Elfie_ (_sleepily_). Thanks, dear Grandma, thanks.... Now I shall go to
+sleep, and dream of you, and the dogs, and angels. I so often dream
+about angels--but that is generally after supper, and to-night I have
+had no supper.... But never mind.... Good night, Grannie, good night ...
+goo'ni' ... goo ... goo!
+     [_She sinks softly to sleep._
+
+  _Lady B._ And I was about to set the bloodhounds upon this little
+sunbeam! 'Tis long since these grim walls have echoed strains so sweet
+as hers. (_Croons._) "Woa, Lucindy" &c. "Dey tried him by a Jury, way
+down in ole Missouri, an' dey hung him to a possumdip tree!" (_Goes to
+couch, and gazes on the little sleeper._) How peacefully she slumbers!
+What a change has come over me in one short hour!--my withered heart is
+sending up green shoots of tenderness, of love, and hope! Let me try
+henceforth to be worthy of this dear child's affection and respect.
+(_Turns, and sees_ MONKSHOOD.) Ha, Monkshood! Then there is time yet!
+Those parcels ... quick, quick!--the parcels!----
+
+  _Monks_ (_impassively_). Have been left as you instructed, my Lady.
+
+     [_Chord._ Lady B. _staggers back, gasping, into chair. Little_
+     ELFIE _awakes behind screen, and rubs her eyes_.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_in a hoarse whisper_). You--you have left the parcels ...
+all--_all?_ Tell me--how were they received? Speak low--I would not
+that yonder child should awake and hear!
+
+  _Little Elfie_ (_behind the screen, very wide awake indeed_). Dear, good
+old Grannie--she would conceal her generosity--even from _me_!
+(_Loudly._) She little thinks that I am overhearing all!
+
+  _Monks._ I could have sworn I heard whispering.
+
+  _Lady B._ Nay, you are mistaken--'twas but the wind in the old wainscot.
+(_Aside._) He is quite capable of destroying that innocent child; but
+old and attached servant as he is, there are liberties I still know how
+to forbid. (_To_ M.) Your story--quick!
+
+  _Monks._ First, I delivered the cigars to Sir Vevey Long, whom I found
+under his verandah. He seemed surprised and gratified by the gift,
+selected a weed, and was proceeding to light it, whilst he showed a
+desire to converse familiarly with me. 'Astily excusing myself, I drove
+away, when----
+
+  _Lady B._ When _what_? Do not torture a wretched old woman!
+
+  _Monks._ When I heard a loud report behind me, and, in the portion of a
+brace, two waistcoat-buttons, and half a slipper, which hurtled past my
+ears, I recognised all that was mortal of the late Sir Vevey. You mixed
+them cigars uncommon strong, m'Lady.
+
+  _Elfie_ (_aside_). Can it be? But no, no. I will _not_ believe it. I am
+sure that dear Granny meant no harm!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_with a grim pride she cannot wholly repress_). I have
+devoted some study to the subject of explosives. 'Tis another triumph to
+the Anti-tobacconists. And what of Lady Violet Powdray--did she apply
+the salve?
+
+  _Monks._ Judging from the 'eartrending 'owls which proceeded from
+Carmine Cottage, the salve was producing the desired result. Her
+Ladyship, 'owever, terminated her sufferings somewhat prematoor by
+jumping out of a top winder just as I was taking my departure----
+
+  _Lady B._ She should have died hereafter--but no matter ... and the
+Upas-tree?----
+
+  _Monks._----was presented to the Pergaments, who unpacked it, and loaded
+its branches with toys and tapers; after which Mr. Pergament, Mrs. P.,
+and all the little Pergaments joined 'ands, and danced round it in
+light'arted glee. (_In a sombre tone._) They little knoo as how it was
+their dance of death!
+
+  _Lady B._ That knowledge will come! And the beer, Monkshood--you saw it
+broached?
+
+  _Monks._ Upon the village green; the mortality is still spreading, it
+being found impossible to undo the knots in which the victims have tied
+themselves. The sweetmeats were likewise distributed, and the floor of
+the hinfant-school now resembles one vast fly-paper.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_with a touch of remorse_). The children too! Was not my
+little Elfie once an infant? Ah me, ah me!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_aside_). Once--but that was long, long ago. And, oh, _how_
+disappointed I am in poor dear Grandmama!
+
+  _Lady B._ Monkshood, you should not have done these things--you should
+have saved me from myself. You _must_ have known how greatly all this
+would increase my unpopularity in the neighbourhood.
+
+  _Monks._ (_sulkily_). And this is my reward for obeying orders! Take
+care, my Lady. It suits you now to throw me aside like a--(_casting
+about for an original simile_)--like a old glove, because this innocent
+grandchild of yours has touched your flinty 'art. But where will _you_
+be when she learns----?
+
+  _Lady B._ (_in agony_). Ah, no, Monkshood, good, faithful Monkshood,
+she must never know that! Think, Monkshood, you would not tell her that
+the Grandmother to whom she looks up with such touching, childlike love,
+was a--_homicide_--you would not do that?
+
+  _Monks._ Some would say even 'omicide was not too black a name for all
+you've done. (Lady BELLEDAME _shudders_.) I might tell Miss Elfie how
+you've blowed up a live Baronet, corrosive sublimated a gentle Lady,
+honly for 'aving, in a moment of candour, called you a hold cat, and
+distributed pison in a variety of forms about this smiling village; and,
+if that don't inspire her with distrust, I don't know the nature of
+children, that's all! I might tell her, I say, and, if I'm to keep my
+mouth shut, I shall expect it to be considered in my wages.
+
+  _Lady B._ I knew you had a good heart! I will pay you
+anything--anything, provided you shield my guilt from her ... wait, you
+shall have gold, gold, Monkshood, gold!
+
+     [_Chord. Little_ ELFIE _suddenly comes from behind screen;
+     limelight on her. The other two shrink back._
+
+  _Elfie._ Do not give that bad old man money, Grandmother, for it will
+only be wasted.
+
+  _Lady B._ Speak, child!--how much do you know?
+
+  _Elfie._ All!    [_Chord._ Lady B. _collapses on chair_.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_with an effort_). And now, Elfie, that you know, you scorn
+and hate your poor old Grandmother--is it not so?
+
+  _Elfie._ It is wrong to hate one's Grandmother, whatever she does. At
+first when I heard, I was very, very sorry. I _did_ think it was most
+unkind of you. But now, oh, I _can't_ believe that you had not some
+good, wise motive, in acting as you did!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_in conscience-stricken aside_). Even _this_ cannot shatter
+her artless faith ... Oh, wretch, wretch!
+
+        [_Covers her face._
+
+  _Monks._ Motive--I believe you there, Missie. Why, she went and insured
+all their lives aforehand, _she_ did.
+
+  _Lady B._ Monkshood, in pity hold your peace!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_her face beaming_). I knew it--I was sure of it! Oh, Granny,
+my dear, kind old Granny, you insured their lives first, so that no real
+harm could possibly happen to them--oh, I am so happy!
+
+[Illustration: "Good-bye, Good-bye!"]
+
+  _Lady B._ (_aside_). What shall I say? Merciful Powers, what _shall_ I
+say to her?
+     [_Disturbed sounds without._
+
+  _Monks._ I don't know what you'd better _say_, but I can tell you what
+your Ladyship had better _do_--and that is, take your 'ook while you
+can. Even now the outraged populace approaches, to wreak a hawful
+vengeance upon your guilty 'ed!
+     [_Melodramatic music._
+
+  _Lady B._ (_distractedly_). A mob! I cannot face them--they will tear me
+limb from limb. At my age I could not survive such an indignity as that!
+Hide me, Monkshood--help me to escape!
+
+  _Monks._ There is a secret underground passage, known only to myself,
+communicating with the nearest railway station. I will point it out, and
+personally conduct your Ladyship--for a consideration--one thousand
+pounds down.
+
+        [_The noise increases._
+
+  _Elfie._ No, Granny, don't trust him! Be calm and brave. Await the mob
+here. Leave it all to me. I will explain everything to them--how you
+meant no ill,--how, at the very time they thought you were meditating an
+injury, you were actually spending money in insuring all their lives.
+When I tell them _that_----
+
+  _Monks._ Ah, you tell 'em that, and see. It's too late now--they are
+here!
+
+     [_Shouts without._ Lady B. _crouches on floor. Little_ ELFIE
+     _goes to the window, throws open the shutters, and stands on
+     balcony in her fluttering white robe, and the limelight_.
+
+  _Elfie._ Yes, they are here. Why, they are carrying torches!--(Lady B.
+_groans_)--and banners, too! I think they have a band.... Who is that
+tall, stout gentleman, in the white hat, on horseback, and the lady in a
+pony-trap, with, oh, such a beautiful complexion! There is an
+inscription on one of the flags--I can read it quite plainly. "_Thanks
+to the generous Donor!_" (That must be _you_, Grandmother!) And there
+are children who dance, and scatter flowers. They are asking for a
+speech. (_Speaking off._) "If you please, Ladies and Gentlemen, my
+Grandmama is not at all well, but she wishes me to say she wishes you a
+Merry Christmas, and is very glad you all like your presents so much.
+Good-bye, _good_-bye!" (_Returning down Stage._) Now they have gone
+away, Granny.... They did look so grateful!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_bewildered_). What is this! Sir Vevey, Lady Violet,--alive,
+well? This deputation of gratitude? Am I mad, dreaming--or what does it
+all mean?
+
+  _Monks._ (_doggedly_). It means that the sight of this 'ere angel child
+recalled me to a sense of what I might be exposin' myself to by carrying
+out your Ladyship's commands; and so I took the liberty of substitootin
+gifts more calculated to inspire gratitude in their recipients--that's
+what it means.
+
+  _Lady B._ Wretch!--then you have disobeyed me? You leave this day month!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_pleading_). Nay, Grandmother, bear with him, for has not his
+disobedience spared you from acts that you might some day have
+regretted?... There, Mr. Butler, Granny forgives you--see, she holds out
+her hand, and here's mine; and now----
+
+  _Lady B._ (_smiling tenderly_). Now you shall sing us "_Woa, Lucinda!_"
+
+     [_Little_ ELFIE _fetches her banjo, and sings, "Woa, Lucinda!"
+     her Grandmother and the aged Steward joining in the dance and
+     chorus, and embracing the child, to form picture as Curtain
+     falls_.
+
+
+
+
+VIII.--JACK PARKER;
+
+OR, THE BULL WHO KNEW HIS BUSINESS.
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Jack Parker_ ("_was a cruel boy, For mischief was his sole
+                  employ._"--_Vide_) Miss JANE TAYLOR.
+
+    _Miss Lydia Banks_ ("_though very young, Will never do what's
+                       rude or wrong._"--_Ditto._)
+
+    _Farmer Banks_        }  By the Brothers GRIFFITHS.
+    _Farmer Banks's Bull_ }
+
+    _Chorus of Farm Hands._
+
+
+     SCENE.--_A Farmyard._ R. _a stall from which the head of the
+     Bull is visible above the half-door. Enter_ Farmer BANKS _with
+     a cudgel_.
+
+  _Farmer B._ (_moodily_). When roots are quiet, and cereals are dull,
+    I vent my irritation on the Bull.
+
+        [_We have_ Miss TAYLOR'S _own authority for this rhyme_.
+
+    Come hup, you beast!
+
+     [_Opens stall and flourishes cudgel--the Bull comes forward
+     with an air of deliberate defiance._
+
+    Oh, turning narsty, is he?
+
+        [_Apologetically to Bull._
+
+    Another time will do! I see you're busy!
+
+     [_The Bull, after some consideration, decides to accept this
+     retractation, and retreats with dignity to his stall, the door
+     of which he carefully fastens after him. Exit_ Farmer BANKS,
+     L., _as_ LYDIA BANKS _enters_ R. _accompanied by Chorus. The
+     Bull exhibits the liveliest interest in her proceedings, as he
+     looks on, with his forelegs folded easily upon the top of the
+     door._
+
+_Song_--LYDIA BANKS (_in Polka time_).
+
+    I'm the child by Miss Jane Taylor sung;
+    Unnaturally good for one so young--
+    A pattern for the people that I go among,
+    With my moral little tags on the tip of my tongue.
+    And I often feel afraid that I shan't live long,
+    For I never do a thing that's rude or wrong!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the Bull beats time_).
+      As a general rule, one _doesn't_ live long,
+      If you never do a thing that's rude or wrong!
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    My words are all with wisdom fraught,
+    To make polite replies I've sought;
+    And learned by independent thought,
+    That a pinafore, inked, is good for nought.
+    So wonderfully well have I been taught,
+    That I turn my toes as children ought!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the Bull dances_).
+      This moral lesson she's been taught--
+      She turns her toes as children ought!
+
+  _Lydia_ (_sweetly_). Yes, I'm the Farmer's daughter--Lydia Banks;
+    No person ever caught me playing pranks!
+    I'm loved by all the live-stock on the farm,
+
+        [_Ironical applause from the Bull._
+
+    Pigeons I've plucked will perch upon my arm,
+    And pigs at my approach sit up and beg.
+
+        [_Business by Bull._
+
+    For me the partial peacock saves his egg,
+    No sheep e'er snaps if _I_ attempt to touch her,
+    Lambs _like_ it when I lead them to the butcher!
+    Each morn I milk my rams beneath the shed,
+    While rabbits flutter twittering round my head,
+    And, as befits a dairy-farmer's daughter,
+    What milk I get I supplement with water,
+
+     [_A huge Shadow is thrown on the road outside_; LYDIA _starts_.
+
+    Whose shadow is it makes the highway darker?
+    That bullet head! those ears! it is----Jack Parker!
+
+     [_Chord. The Chorus flee in dismay, as_ JACK _enters with a
+     reckless swagger_.
+
+_Song_--JACK PARKER.
+
+    I'm loafing about, and I very much doubt
+    If my excellent Ma is aware that I'm out;
+    My time I employ in attempts to annoy,
+    And I'm not what you'd call an agreeable boy!
+        I shoe the cats with walnut-shells;
+          Tin cans to curs I tie;
+        Ring furious knells at front-door bells--
+          Then round the corner fly!
+    'Neath donkeys' tails I fasten furze,
+      Or timid horsemen scare;
+    If chance occurs, I stock with burrs
+      My little Sister's hair!
+
+        [_The Bull shakes his head reprovingly._
+
+    Such tricks give me joy without any alloy,
+    But they do not denote an agreeable boy!
+
+     [_As_ JACK PARKER _concludes, the Bull ducks cautiously below
+     the half-door, while_ LYDIA _conceals herself behind the pump_,
+     L.C.
+
+  _Jack_ (_wandering about stage discontentedly_). I thought at least
+        there'd be _some_ beasts to badger here!
+    Call this a farm--there ain't a blooming spadger here!
+
+        [_Approaches stall--Bull raises head suddenly._
+
+    A bull! This is a lark I've long awaited!
+    He's in a stable, so he should be baited.
+
+     [_The Bull shows symptoms of acute depression at this jeu de
+     mots_; LYDIA _comes forward indignantly_.
+
+  _Lydia._ I _can't_ stand by and see that poor bull suffer!
+    Excitement's sure to make his beef taste tougher!
+
+        [_The Bull emphatically corroborates this statement._
+
+    Be warned by Miss Jane Taylor; fractured skulls
+    Invariably come from teasing bulls!
+    So let that door alone, nor lift the latchet;
+    For if the bull gets out--why, then you'll catch it.
+
+  _Jack._ A fractured skull? Yah, don't believe a word of it!
+
+     [_Raises latchet: chord; Bull comes slowly out, and crouches
+     ominously_; JACK _retreats, and takes refuge on top of pump:
+     the Bull, after scratching his back with his off foreleg, makes
+     a sudden rush at_ LYDIA.
+
+  _Lydia_ (_as she evades it_). Here, help!--it's chasing me!--it's
+        too absurd of it!
+    Go away, Bull--with _me_ you have no quarrel!
+
+     [_The Bull intimates that he is acting from a deep sense of
+     duty._
+
+  _Lydia_ (_impatiently_). You stupid thing, you're _ruining_ the moral!
+
+        [_The Bull persists obstinately in his pursuit._
+
+  _Jack_ (_from top of pump_). Well dodged, Miss Banks! although
+        the Bull I'll back!
+
+        [_Enter_ Farm-hands.
+
+  _Lydia._ Come quick--this Bull's mistaking me for Jack!
+
+  _Jack._ He knows his business best, I shouldn't wonder.
+
+  _Farm-hands_ (_philosophically_). He ain't the sort of Bull
+        to make a blunder.
+
+        [_They look on._
+
+  _Lydia_ (_panting._) Such violent exercise will soon exhaust me!
+
+        [_The Bull comes behind her._
+
+    Oh, Bull, it _is_ unkind of you ... you've _tossed_ me!
+
+     [_Falls on ground, while the Bull stands over her, in readiness
+     to give the coup de grace_; LYDIA _calls for help_.
+
+  _A Farm-hand_ (_encouragingly_). Nay, Miss, he seems moor
+        sensible nor surly--
+    He knows as how good children perish early!
+
+     [_The Bull nods in acknowledgment that he is at last
+     understood, and slaps his chest with his forelegs._
+
+  _Lydia._ Bull, I'll turn naughty, if you'll but be lenient!
+    Goodness, I see, is sometimes inconvenient.
+    I promise you henceforth I'll _try_, at any rate,
+    To act like children who are unregenerate!
+
+[Illustration: On top of the Pump.]
+
+     [_The Bull, after turning this over, decides to accept a
+     compromise._
+
+  _Jack._ And, Lydia, when you ready for a lark are,
+    Just give a chyhike to your friend--Jack Parker!
+
+        [_They shake hands warmly._
+
+
+FINALE.
+
+  _Lydia._ I thought to slowly fade away so calm and beautiful.
+      (Though I didn't mean to go just yet);
+    But you get no chance for pathos when you're chivied by a bull!
+      (So I thought I wouldn't go just yet.)
+    For I did feel so upset, when I found that all you get
+    By the exercise of virtue, is that bulls will come and hurt you!
+      That I thought I wouldn't go just yet!
+
+  _Chorus._ We hear, with some regret,
+      That she doesn't mean to go just yet.
+      But a Bull with horns that hurt you
+      Is a poor return for virtue,
+      So she's wiser not to go just yet!
+
+     [_The Bull rises on his hindlegs, and gives a forehoof each to_
+     LYDIA _and_ JACK, _who dance wildly round and round as the
+     Curtain falls_.
+
+[N.B.--Music-hall Managers are warned that the morality of this
+particular Drama may possibly be called in question by some members of
+the L. C. C.]
+
+
+
+
+IX.--UNDER THE HARROW.
+
+_A CONVENTIONAL COMEDY-MELODRAMA, IN TWO ACTS._
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Sir Poshbury Puddock (a haughty and high-minded Baronet)._
+
+    _Verbena Puddock (his Daughter)._
+
+    _Lord Bleshugh (her Lover)._
+
+    _Spiker (a needy and unscrupulous Adventurer)._
+
+    _Blethers (an ancient and attached Domestic)._
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+    SCENE--_The Morning Room at Natterjack Hall, Toadley-le-Hole;
+    large window open at back, with heavy practicable sash._
+
+_Enter_ BLETHERS.
+
+  _Blethers._ Sir Poshbury's birthday to-day--his birthday!--and the
+gentry giving of him presents. Oh, Lor! if they only knew what _I_ could
+tell 'em!... Ah, and _must_ tell, too, before long--but not yet--not
+yet!
+     [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ LORD BLESHUGH _and_ VERBENA.
+
+  _Verb._ Yes, Papa is forty to-day; (_innocently_) fancy living to _that_
+age! The tenants have presented him with a handsome jar of mixed
+pickles, with an appropriate inscription. Papa is loved and respected by
+every one. And I--well, I have made him a little housewife, containing
+needles and thread ... See!
+     [_Shows it._
+
+  _Lord Blesh._ (_tenderly_). I say, I--I wish you would make _me_ a
+little housewife!
+
+        [_Comedy love-dialogue omitted owing to want of space._
+
+  _Verb._ Oh, do look!--there's Papa crossing the lawn with, oh, such a
+horrid man following him!
+
+  _Lord B._ Regular bounder. Shocking bad hat!
+
+  _Verb._ Not so bad as his boots, and _they_ are not so bad as his face!
+Why doesn't Papa order him to go away? Oh, he is actually inviting him
+in!
+
+_Enter_ Sir POSHBURY, _gloomy and constrained, with_ SPIKER, _who is
+jaunty, and somewhat over familiar._
+
+  _Spiker_ (_sitting on the piano, and dusting his boots with his
+handkerchief_). Cosy little shanty you've got here, Puddock--very tasty!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_with a gulp_). I am--ha--delighted that you approve of it!
+Ah, Verbena!
+     [_Kisses her on forehead._
+
+  _Spiker._ Your daughter, eh? Pooty gal. Introduce me.
+
+        [_Sir_ POSH. _introduces him--with an effort._
+
+  _Verbena_ (_coldly_). How do you do? Papa, did you know that the
+sashline of this window was broken? If it is not mended, it will fall on
+somebody's head, and perhaps kill him!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_absently_). Yes--yes, it shall be attended to; but leave us,
+my child, go. Bleshugh, this--er--gentleman and I have business of
+importance to discuss.
+
+  _Spiker._ Don't let us drive you away, Miss; your Pa and me are only
+talking over old times, that's all--eh, Posh?
+
+  _Sir P._ (_in a tortured aside_). Have a care, Sir, don't drive me too
+far! (_To_ VERB.) Leave us, I say. (Lord B. _and_ VERB. _go out, raising
+their eyebrows._) Now, Sir, what is this secret you profess to have
+discovered?
+
+  _Spiker._ Oh, a mere nothing. (_Takes out a cigar._) Got a light about
+you? Thanks. Perhaps you don't recollect twenty-seven years ago this
+very day, travelling from Edgware Road to Baker Street, by the
+Underground Railway?
+
+  _Sir P._ Perfectly; it was my thirteenth birthday, and I celebrated the
+event by a visit to Madame Tussaud's.
+
+[Illustration: Spiker Introduced.]
+
+  _Spiker._ Exactly; it was your thirteenth birthday, and you travelled
+second-class with a half-ticket--(_meaningly_)--on your thirteenth
+birthday.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_terribly agitated_). Fiend that you are, how came you to
+learn this?
+
+  _Spiker._ Very simple. I was at that time in the temporary position of
+ticket-collector at Baker Street. In the exuberance of boyhood, you
+cheeked me. I swore to be even with you some day.
+
+  _Sir P._ Even if--if your accusation were well-founded, how are you
+going to prove it?
+
+  _Sp._ Oh, that's easy! I preserved the half-ticket, on the chance that I
+should require it as evidence hereafter.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_aside_). And so the one error of an otherwise blameless
+boyhood has found me out--at last! (_To_ SPIKER.) I fear you not; my
+crime--if crime indeed it was--is surely condoned by twenty-seven long
+years of unimpeachable integrity!
+
+  _Sp._ Bye-laws are Bye-laws, old Buck! there's no Statute of Limitations
+in criminal offences that ever _I_ heard of! Nothing can alter the fact
+that you, being turned thirteen, obtained a half-ticket by a false
+representation that you were under age. A line from me, even now,
+denouncing you to the Traffic Superintendent, and I'm very much
+afraid----
+
+  _Sir P._ (_writhing_). Spiker, my--my dear friend, you won't do
+that--you won't expose me? Think of my age, my position, my daughter!
+
+  _Sp._ Ah, now you've touched the right chord! I _was_ thinking of your
+daughter--a nice lady-like gal--I don't mind telling you she fetched me,
+Sir, at the first glance. Give me her hand, and I burn the compromising
+half-ticket before your eyes on our return from church after the
+wedding. Come, that's a fair offer!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_indignantly_). My child, the ripening apple of my failing
+eye, to be sacrificed to a blackmailing blackguard like you! Never while
+I live!
+
+  _Sp._ Just as you please; and, if you will kindly oblige me with writing
+materials, I will just drop a line to the Traffic Superintendent----
+
+  _Sir P._ (_hoarsely_). No, no; not _that_.... Wait, listen; I--I will
+speak to my daughter. I promise nothing; but if her heart is still her
+own to give, she may, (mind, I do not say she _will_,) be induced to
+link her lot to yours, though I shall not attempt to influence her in
+any way--in _any_ way.
+
+  _Sp._ Well, you know your own business best, old Cockalorum. Here comes
+the young lady, so I'll leave you to manage this delicate affair alone.
+Ta-ta. I shan't be far off.
+
+        [_Swaggers insolently out as_ VERB. _enters._
+
+  _Sir P._ My child, I have just received an offer for your hand. I know
+not if you will consent?
+
+  _Verb._ I can guess who has made that offer, and why. I consent with all
+my heart, dear Papa.
+
+  _Sir P._ Can I trust my ears! You consent? Noble girl!
+
+        [_He embraces her._
+
+  _Verb._ I was quite sure dear Bleshugh meant to speak, and I _do_ love
+him very much.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_starting_). It is not Lord Bleshugh, my child, but Mr. Samuel
+Spiker, the gentleman (for he is at heart a gentleman) whom I introduced
+to you just now.
+
+  _Verb._ I have seen so little of him, Papa, I cannot love him--you must
+really excuse me!
+
+  _Sir P._ Ah, but you will, my darling, you _will_--I know your unselfish
+nature--you will, to save your poor old dad from a terrible disgrace ...
+yes, _disgrace_, listen! Twenty-seven years ago--(_he tells her all_).
+Verbena, at this very moment, there is a subscription on foot in the
+county to present me with my photograph, done by an itinerant
+photographer of the highest eminence, and framed and glazed ready for
+hanging. Is that photograph never to know the nail which even now awaits
+it? Can you not surrender a passing girlish fancy, to spare your fond
+old father's fame? Mr. Spiker is peculiar, perhaps, in many ways--not
+quite of our _monde_--but he loves you sincerely, my child, and that is
+in itself a recommendation. Ah, I see--my prayers are vain ... be
+happy, then. As for me, let the police come--I am ready!
+     [_Weeps._
+
+  _Verb._ Not so, Papa; I will marry this Mr. Spiker, since it is your
+wish.
+     [Sir POSH. _dries his eyes._
+
+  _Sir P._ Here, Spiker, my dear fellow, it is all right. Come in. She
+accepts you.
+
+_Enter_ SPIKER.
+
+  _Sp._ Thought she would. Sensible little gal! Well, Miss, you shan't
+regret it. Bless you, we'll be as chummy together as a couple of little
+dicky-birds.
+
+  _Verb._ Mr. Spiker, let us understand one another. I will do my best to
+be a good wife to you--but chumminess is not mine to give, nor can I
+promise ever to be your dicky-bird.
+
+_Enter_ LORD BLESHUGH.
+
+  _Lord B._ Sir Poshbury, may I have five minutes with you? Verbena, you
+need not go. (_Looking at_ SPIKER.) Perhaps this person will kindly
+relieve us of his presence.
+
+  _Sp._ Sorry to disoblige, old fellow, but I'm on duty where Miss Verbena
+is now, you see, as she's just promised to be my wife.
+
+  _Lord B._ _Your_ wife!
+
+  _Verb._ (_faintly_). Yes, Lord Bleshugh, his _wife_!
+
+  _Sir P._ Yes, my poor boy, _his_ wife!
+
+     [VERBENA _totters, and falls heavily in a dead faint,_ R.C.,
+     _upsetting a flower-stand;_ LORD BLESHUGH _staggers, and swoons
+     on sofa, C., overturning a table of knicknacks;_ SIR POSHBURY
+     _sinks into chair,_ L.C., _and covers his face with his hands._
+
+  _Sp._ (_looking down on them triumphantly_). Under the Harrow, by Gad!
+Under the Harrow!
+
+        [_Curtain, and end of Act I._
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+    SCENE--_Same as in Act I.; viz., the Morning-Room at Natterjack
+    Hall. Evening of same day. Enter_ BLETHERS.
+
+  _Blethers._ Another of Sir Poshbury's birthdays almost gone--and my
+secret still untold! (_Dodders._) I can't keep it up much longer.... Ha,
+here comes his Lordship--he does look mortal bad, that he do! Miss
+Verbena ain't treated him too well, from all I can hear, poor young
+feller!
+
+_Enter_ LORD BLESHUGH.
+
+  _Lord Bleshugh._ Blethers, by the memory of the innumerable half-crowns
+that have passed between us, be my friend now--I have no others left.
+Persuade your young Mistress to come hither--you need not tell her _I_
+am here, you understand. Be discreet, and this florin shall be yours!
+
+  _Blethers._ Leave it to me, my lord. I'd tell a lie for less than that,
+any day, old as I am!
+     [_Exit._
+
+  _Lord Bl._ I cannot rest till I have heard from her own lips that the
+past few hours have been nothing but a horrible dream.... She is coming!
+Now for the truth!
+
+_Enter_ VERBENA.
+
+  _Verbena._ Papa, did you want me? (_Recognises Lord B.--controls herself
+to a cold formality._) My lord, to what do I owe this--this unexpected
+intrusion?
+     [_Pants violently._
+
+  _Lord Bl._ Verbena, tell me, you cannot really prefer that seedy snob in
+the burst boots to me?
+
+  _Verb._ (_aside_). How can I tell him the truth without betraying dear
+Papa? No, I must lie, though it kills me. (_To Lord B._) Lord Bleshugh,
+I have been trifling with you. I--I never loved you.
+
+  _Lord B._ I see, and all the while your heart was given to a howling
+cad?
+
+  _Verb._ And if it was, who can account for the vagaries of a girlish
+fancy! We women are capricious beings, you know. (_With hysterical
+gaiety._) But you are unjust to Mr. Spiker--he has not _yet_ howled in
+_my_ presence--(_aside_)--though I very nearly did in _his_!
+
+  _Lord B._ And you really love him?
+
+  _Verb._ I--I love him. (_Aside._) My heart will break!
+
+  _Lord B._ Then I have no more to say. Farewell, Verbena! Be as happy as
+the knowledge that you have wrecked one of the brightest careers, and
+soured one of the sweetest natures in the county, will permit. (_Goes up
+stage, and returns._) A few days since you presented me with a cloth
+pen-wiper, in the shape of a dog of unknown breed. If you will kindly
+wait here for half-an-hour, I shall have much pleasure in returning a
+memento which I have no longer the right to retain, and there are
+several little things I gave you which I can take back with me at the
+same time, if you will have them put up in readiness.
+     [_Exit._
+
+  _Verbena._ Oh, he is cruel, cruel! but I shall keep the little bone
+yard-measure, and the diamond pig--they are all I have to remind me of
+him!
+
+_Enter_ SPIKER, _slightly intoxicated._
+
+  _Spiker._ (_throwing himself on sofa without seeing Verb._) I don' know
+how it is, but I feel precioush shleepy, somehow. P'raps I _did_ partake
+lil' too freely of Sir Poshbury's gen'rous Burgundy. Wunner why they
+call it "gen'rous"--it didn't give _me_ anything--'cept a bloomin'
+headache! However, I punished it, and old Poshbury had to look on and
+let me. He-he! (_Examining his hand._) Who'd think, to look at thish
+thumb, that there was a real live Baronet squirmin' under it. But there
+ish!
+     [_Snores._
+
+[Illustration: Spiker spiked.]
+
+  _Verb._ (_bitterly_). And _that_ thing is my affianced husband Ah, no I
+cannot go through with it, he is _too_ repulsive! If I could but find a
+way to free myself without compromising poor Papa. The sofa-cushion!
+_Dare_ I? It would be quite painless.... Surely the removal of such an
+odious wretch cannot be _Murder_.... I will! (_Slow music. She gets a
+cushion, and presses it tightly over_ SPIKER'S _head._) Oh, I _wish_ he
+wouldn't gurgle like that, and how he does kick! He cannot even die like
+a gentleman! (SPIKER'S _kicks become more and more feeble and eventually
+cease._) How still he lies! I almost wish ... Mr. Spiker, Mr.
+Spi-ker!... no answer--oh, I really _have_ suffocated him! (_Enter_ Sir
+POSH.) You, Papa?
+
+  _Sir Posh._ What, Verbena, sitting with, hem--Samuel in the gloaming?
+(_Sings with forced hilarity._) "In the gloaming, oh, my darling!"
+that's as it should be--quite as it should be!
+
+  _Verb._ (_in dull strained accents_). Don't sing, Papa, I cannot bear
+it--just yet. I have just suffocated Mr. Spiker with a sofa-cushion.
+See!
+     [_Shows the body._
+
+  _Sir Posh._ Then I am safe--he will tell no tales now! But, my child,
+are you aware of the very serious nature of your act? An act of which,
+as a Justice of the Peace, I am bound to take some official cognizance!
+
+  _Verb._ Do not scold me, Papa. Was it not done for _your_ sake?
+
+  _Sir P._ I cannot accept such an excuse as that. I fear your motives
+were less disinterested than you would have me believe. And now,
+Verbena, what will _you_ do? As your father, I would gladly screen
+you--but, as a Magistrate, I cannot promise to be more than passive.
+
+  _Verb._ Listen, Papa. I have thought of a plan--why should I not wheel
+this sofa to the head of the front-door steps, and tip it over? They
+will only think he fell down when intoxicated--for he _had_ taken far
+too much wine, Papa!
+
+  _Sir P._ Always the same quick-witted little fairy! Go, my child, but be
+careful that none of the servants see you. (VERB. _wheels the sofa and_
+SPIKER'S _body out,_ L.U.E.) My poor impulsive darling, I do hope she
+will not be seen--servants _do_ make such mischief! But there's an end
+of Spiker, at any rate. I should _not_ have liked him for a son-in-law,
+and with him, goes the only person who knows my unhappy secret!
+
+_Enter_ BLETHERS.
+
+  _Blethers._ Sir Poshbury, I have a secret to reveal which I can preserve
+no longer--it concerns something that happened many years ago--it is
+connected with your _birthday_, Sir Poshbury.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_quailing_). What, _another_! I must stop _his_ tongue at all
+hazards. Ah, the rotten sash-line! (_To_ BLETHERS.) I will hear you, but
+first close yonder window, the night-air is growing chill.
+
+     [BLETHERS _goes to window at back. Slow music. As he approaches
+     it,_ Lord BLESHUGH _enters_ (R 2 E), _and, with a smothered cry
+     of horror, drags him back by the coat-tails--just before the
+     window falls with a tremendous crash._
+
+  _Sir P._ Bleshugh! What have you done?
+
+  _Lord Blesh._ (_sternly_). Saved _him_ from an untimely end--and _you_
+from--crime!
+
+_Collapse of_ Sir P. _Enter_ VERBENA, _terrified._
+
+  _Verb._ Papa, Papa, hide me! The night-air and the cold stone steps have
+restored Mr. Spiker to life and consciousness! He is coming to denounce
+me--you--both of us! He is awfully annoyed!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_recklessly_). It is useless to appeal to me, child. I have
+enough to do to look after myself--now.
+
+        [_Enter_ SPIKER, _indignant._
+
+  _Spiker._ Pretty treatment for a gentleman, this! Look here, Poshbury,
+this young lady has choked me with a cushion, and then pitched me down
+the front steps--I might have broken my neck.
+
+  _Sir P._ It was an oversight which I lament, but for which I must
+decline to be answerable. You must settle your differences with her.
+
+  _Spiker._ And you too, old horse! _You_ had a hand in this, I know, and
+I'll pay you out for it now. My life ain't safe if I marry a girl like
+that, so I've made up my mind to split and be done with it!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_contemptuously_). If _you_ don't, Blethers _will_. So do your
+worst, you hound!
+
+  _Spiker._ Very well then; I will. (_To the rest._) I denounce this man
+for travelling with a half-ticket from Edgware Road to Baker Street on
+his thirteenth birthday, the 31st of March twenty-seven years ago this
+very day!
+     [_Sensation._
+
+  _Blethers._ Hear me! It was _not_ his thirteenth birthday; Sir
+Poshbury's birthday falls on the 1st of April--_to-morrow_! I was sent
+to register the birth, and, by a blunder, which I have repented bitterly
+ever since, unfortunately gave the wrong date. Till this moment I have
+never had the manliness or sincerity to confess my error, for fear of
+losing my situation.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_to_ SPIKER). Do you hear, you paltry knave? I was _not_
+thirteen. Consequently, I was under age, and the Bye-laws are still
+unbroken. Your hold over me is gone--gone for ever!
+
+  _Spiker._ H'm--Spiker spiked this time!
+
+        [_Retires up disconcerted._
+
+  _Lord Bl._ And you did not really love him, after all, Verbena?
+
+  _Verb._ (_with arch pride_). Have I not proved my indifference?
+
+  _Lord Bl._ But I forget--you admitted that you were but trifling with my
+affection--take back your pin-cushion!
+
+  _Verb._ Keep it. All that I did was done to spare my father!
+
+  _Sir Posh._ Who, as a matter of fact, was innocent--but I forgive you,
+child, for your unworthy suspicions. Bleshugh, my boy, you have saved me
+from unnecessarily depriving myself of the services of an old retainer.
+Blethers, I condone a dissimulation for which you have done much to
+atone. Spiker, you vile and miserable rascal, be off, and be thankful
+that I have sufficient magnanimity to refrain from giving you in charge.
+(SPIKER _sneaks off crushed._) And now, my children, and my faithful old
+servant, congratulate me that I am no longer----
+
+  _Verbena and Lord Bleshugh_ (_together_). Under the Harrow!
+
+        [_Affecting Family Tableau and quick Curtain._
+
+
+
+
+X.--TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE
+
+
+[Illustration: Tommy and Jane.]
+
+Once more we draw upon our favourite source of inspiration--the poems of
+the Misses Taylor. The dramatist is serenely confident that the new
+London County Council Censor of Plays, whenever that much-desired
+official is appointed, will highly approve of this little piece on
+account of the multiplicity of its morals. It is intended to teach,
+amongst other useful lessons, that--as the poem on which it is founded
+puts it--"Fruit in lanes is seldom good"; also, that it is not always
+prudent to take a hint: again, that constructive murder is distinctly
+reprehensible, and should never be indulged in by persons who cannot
+control their countenances afterwards. Lastly, that suicide may often be
+averted by the exercise of a little _savoir vivre_.
+
+
+TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE.
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Tommy and his Sister Jane (Taylorian Twins, and awful examples)._
+
+    _Their Wicked Uncle (plagiarised from a forgotten Nursery Story,
+        and slightly altered)._
+
+    _Old Farmer Copeer (skilled in the use of horse and cattle medicines)._
+
+
+     SCENE--_A shady lane; on the right, a gate, leading to the
+     farm; left, some bashes, covered with practicable scarlet
+     berries._
+
+_Enter the_ Wicked Uncle, _stealthily_.
+
+  _The W. U._ No peace of mind I e'er shall know again
+    Till I have cooked the geese of Tom and Jane!
+    But--though a naughty--I'm a nervous nunky,
+    For downright felonies I'm far too funky!
+    I'd hire assassins--but of late the villains
+    Have raised their usual fee to fifteen shillin's!
+    Nor, to reduce their rates, will they engage
+    (_Sympathetically_) For two poor orphans who are under age!
+    So (as I'd give no more than half a guinea)
+    I must myself get rid of Tom and Jenny.
+    Yet, like an old soft-hearted fool, I falter,
+    And can't make up my mind to risk a halter.
+    (_Looking off._) Ha, in the distance, Jane and little Tom I see!
+    These berries--(_meditatively_)--why, it only needs diplomacy.
+    Ho-ho, a most ingenious experiment!
+
+     [_Indulges in silent and sinister mirth, as_ Jane _and_ Tom
+     _trip in, and regard him with innocent wonder._
+
+  _Jane._ Uncle, what _is_ the joke? Why all this merriment?
+
+  _The W. U._ (_in guilty confusion_). Not merriment, my
+        loves--a trifling spasm--
+    Don't be alarmed--your Uncle often has 'em!
+    I'm feeling better than I did at first--
+    _You're_ looking flushed, though not, I hope, with thirst?
+
+        [_Insidiously._
+
+_Song, by the_ Wicked Uncle.
+
+    The sun is scorching overhead;
+      The roads are dry and dusty;
+    And here are berries, ripe and red,
+      Refreshing when you're _thusty_!
+    They're hanging just within your reach,
+      Inviting you to clutch them!
+    But--as your Uncle--I beseech
+      You won't attempt to touch them?
+
+  _Tommy and Jane_ (_dutifully_). We'll do whatever you beseech, and not
+attempt to touch them!
+
+        [_Annoyance of_ W. U.
+
+  _The W. U._ Temptation (so I've understood)
+      A child, in order kept, shuns;
+    And fruit in lanes is seldom good
+      (With several exceptions).
+    However freely you partake,
+      It can't--as you are young--kill,
+    But should it cause a stomach-ache--
+      Well, don't you blame your Uncle!
+
+  _Tommy and Jane._ No, should it cause a stomach-ache, we will not blame
+our Uncle!
+
+  _The W. U._ (_aside_). They'll need no further personal assistance,
+    But take the bait when I am at a distance.
+    I could not, were I paid a thousand ducats,
+    (_With sentiment_) Stand by, and see them kick their little buckets,
+    Or look on while their sticks this pretty pair cut!
+
+        [_Stealing off._
+
+  _Tommy._ What, Uncle, going?
+
+  _The W. U._ (_with assumed jauntiness_). Just to get my hair
+        cut!    [_Goes._
+
+  _Tommy_ (_looking wistfully at the berries_). I say, they _do_ look
+        nice, Jane, such a lot too!
+
+  _Jane_ (_demurely_). Well, Tommy, Uncle never told us _not_ to.
+
+     [_Slow music; they gradually approach the berries, which they
+     pick and eat with increasing relish, culminating in a dance of
+     delight._
+
+_Duet_--TOMMY _and_ JANE (_with step-dance_).
+
+  _Tommy_ (_dancing, with his mouth full_). These berries ain't so
+        bad--although they've far too much acidity.
+
+  _Jane_ (_ditto_). To me, their only drawback is a dash of insipidity.
+
+  _Tommy_ (_rudely_). But, all the same, you're wolfing 'em
+        with wonderful avidity!
+
+  _Jane_ (_indignantly_). No, _that_ I'm not, so _there_ now!
+
+  _Tommy_ (_calmly_).                          But you _are_!
+
+  _Jane._                                                 And so are _you_!
+
+     [_They retire up, dancing, and eat more berries--after which
+     they gaze thoughtfully at each other._
+
+  _Jane._ This fruit is most refreshing--but it's curious how
+        it cloys on you!
+
+  _Tommy_ (_with anxiety_). I wonder why all appetite for
+        dinner it destroys in you!
+
+  _Jane._ Oh, Tommy, aren't you half afraid you've ate
+        enough to poison you?
+
+  _Tommy._ No, _that_ I'm not--so there now! &c., &c.
+
+        [_They dance as before._
+
+  _Tommy._ Jane, _is_ your palate parching up in horrible aridity?
+
+  _Jane._ It is, and in my throat's a lump of singular solidity.
+
+  _Tommy._ Then that is why you're dancing with such pokerlike rigidity.
+
+     [_Refrain as before; they dance with decreasing spirit, and
+     finally stop, and fan one another with their hats._
+
+  _Jane._ I'm better now that on my brow there is a little breeziness.
+
+  _Tommy._ My passing qualm is growing calm, and tightness
+        turns to easiness.
+
+  _Jane._ You seem to me tormented by a tendency to queasiness?
+
+     [_Refrain; they attempt to continue the dance--but suddenly sit
+     down side by side._
+
+  _Jane_ (_with a gasp_). I don't know what it is--but, oh, I
+        _do_ feel so peculiar!
+
+  _Tommy_ (_with a gulp_). I've tumults taking place within
+        that I may say unruly are.
+
+  _Jane._ Why, Tommy, you are turning green--you really
+        and you _truly_ are!
+
+  _Tommy._ No, _that_ I'm not, so _there_ now!
+
+  _Jane._                              But you _are_!
+
+  _Tommy._                                 And so are _you_!
+
+     [_Melancholy music; to which_ TOMMY _and_ _Jane_, _after a few
+     convulsive movements, gradually become inanimate. Enter old_
+     Farmer COPEER _from gate, carrying a large bottle labelled
+     "Cattle Medicine."_
+
+  _Farmer C._ It's time I gave the old bay mare her drench.
+
+        [_Stumbles over the children._
+
+    What's here? A lifeless lad!--and little wench!
+    Been eating berries--where did they get _them_ idees?
+    For cows, when took so, I've the reg'lar remedies.
+    I'll try 'em here--and if their state the worse is,
+    Why, they shall have them balls I give my 'erses!
+
+        [_Carries the bodies off just before the_ W. U. _re-enters_.
+
+  _W. U._ The children--gone? yon bush of berries less full!
+    Hooray, my little stratagem's successful!
+
+        [_Dances a triumphant pas seul. Re-enter Farmer C._
+
+  _Farmer C._ Been looking for your little niece and nephew?
+
+  _The W. U._ Yes, searching for them everywhere--
+
+  _Farmer C._ (_ironically_).             Oh, _hev'_ you?
+    Then let me tell you, from all pain they're free, Sir.
+
+  _The W. U._ (_falling on his knees_). _I_ didn't poison them--it
+        wasn't _me_, Sir!
+
+  _Farmer C._ I thought as much--a constable I'll run for.
+
+        [_Exit._
+
+  _The W. U._ My wretched nerves again! _This_ time I'm done for!
+    Well, though I'm trapped, and useless all disguise is,
+    My case shall ne'er come on at the Assizes!
+
+     [_Rushes desperately to tree and crams himself with the
+     remaining berries, which produce an almost instantaneous
+     effect. Re-enter_ TOM _and_ JANE _from gate, looking pale and
+     limp. Terror of the_ Wicked Uncle _as he turns and recognises
+     them_.
+
+  _The W. U._ (_with tremulous politeness_). The shades of
+        Jane and Tommy, I presume?
+
+        [_Re-enter Farmer C._
+
+  _Jane and Tommy_ (_pointing to Farmer C._) His Cattle
+        Mixtures snatched us from the tomb!
+
+  _The W. U._ (_with a flicker of hope_). Why, then the self-same
+        drugs will ease _my_ torments!
+
+  _Farmer C._ (_chuckling_). Too late! they've drunk the lot,
+        the little vormints!
+
+  _The W. U._ (_bitterly_). So out of life I must inglorious wriggle,
+    Pursued by Tommy's grin, and Jenny's giggle!
+
+     [_Dies in great agony, while_ TOMMY, JANE, _and_ Farmer COPEER
+     _look on with mixed emotions as the Curtain falls_.
+
+
+
+
+XI.--THE RIVAL DOLLS.
+
+"Miss Jenny and Polly had each a new dolly."--_Vide Poem._
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Miss Jenny_  } By the Sisters LEAMAR.
+    _Miss Polly_  }
+
+    _The Soldier Doll_ } By the Two ARMSTRONGS.
+    _The Sailor Doll_  }
+
+
+     SCENE--_A Nursery. Enter_ Miss JENNY _and_ Miss POLLY, _who
+     perform a blameless step-dance with an improving chorus_.
+
+    Oh, isn't it jolly! we've each a new dolly,
+      And one is a Soldier, the other's a Tar;
+    We're fully contented with what's been presented,
+      Such good little children we both of us are!
+
+     [_They dance up to a cupboard, from which they bring out two
+     large Dolls, which they place on chairs._
+
+  _Miss J._ _Don't_ they look nice! Come, Polly, let us strive
+    To make ourselves believe that they're alive!
+
+  _Miss P._ (_addressing_ Sailor D.). I'm glad you're mine. I
+        dote on all that's nautical.
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_opening his eyes suddenly_). Excuse me, Miss, your
+        sister's more _my_ sort o' gal.
+
+     [_Kisses his hand to_ Miss J., _who shrinks back, shocked and
+     alarmed_.
+
+  _Miss J._ Oh, Polly, _did_ you hear? I feel so shy!
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_with mild self-assertion_). _I_ can say "Pa" and
+        "Ma"--and wink my eye.
+
+     [_Does so at_ Miss P., _who runs in terror to_ Miss J.'s
+     _side_.
+
+  _Miss J._ Why, both are showing signs of animation.
+
+  _Miss P._ Who'd think we had such strong imagination!
+
+  _The Soldier Doll_ (_aside to the Sailor D._). I say, old fellow,
+        we have caught their fancy--
+    In each of us they now a real man see!
+    Let's keep it up!
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_dubiously._) D'ye think as we can _do_ it?
+
+  _The Soldier D._ You stick by me, and I will see you through it.
+    Sit up, and turn your toes out,--don't you loll;
+    Put on the Man, and drop the bloomin' Doll!
+
+     [_The_ Sailor DOLL _pulls himself together, and rises from
+     chair importantly_.
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_in the manner of a Music-hall Chairman_)--
+
+    Ladies, with your kind leave, this gallant gent
+    Will now his military sketch present.
+
+     [Miss J. _and_ P. _applaud_: _the_ Soldier D., _after feebly
+     expostulating, is induced to sing_.
+
+_Song, by the_ Soldier Doll.
+
+    When I used to be displayed,
+    In the Burlington Arcade,
+    With artillery arrayed
+          Underneath.
+                Shoulder Hump
+
+    I imagine that I made
+    All the Lady Dolls afraid,
+    I should draw my battle-blade
+          From its sheath,
+                Shoulder Hump
+
+    For I'm Mars's gallant son,
+    And my back I've shown to none,
+    Nor was ever seen to run
+          From the strife!
+                Shoulder Hump!
+
+    Oh, the battles I'd have won,
+    And the dashing deeds have done,
+    If I'd ever fired a gun
+          In my life!
+                Shoulder Hump!
+
+_Refrain (to be sung marching round Stage)._
+
+    By your right flank, Wheel!
+    Let the front rank kneel!
+    With the bristle of the steel
+          To the foe.
+    Till their regiments reel,
+    At our rattling peal,
+    And the military zeal
+          We show!
+
+[Illustration: "Shoulder Hump!"]
+
+        [_Repeat, with the whole company marching round after him._
+
+  _The Soldier Doll._ My friend will next oblige--this jolly Jack Tar.
+    Will give his song and chorus in charack-tar!
+
+        [_Same business with_ Sailor D.
+
+_Song, by the_ Sailor Doll.
+
+    In costume I'm
+    So maritime,
+    You'd never suppose the fact is,
+    That with the Fleet
+    In Regent Street,
+    I'd precious little naval practice!
+    There was saucy craft,
+    Rigged fore an' aft,
+    Inside o' Mr. Cre-mer's.
+    From Noah's Arks to Clipper-built barques,
+    Like-wise mechanical stea-mers.
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    But to navigate the Serpentine,
+            Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy!
+    With clockwork, sails, or spirits of wine,
+            Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy!
+    I did respeckfully decline,
+    So I was left in port to pine,
+    Which wasn't azactually the line
+    Of a rollicking Sailor Boy, Yeo-ho!
+    Of a rollicking Sailor Bo-oy!
+
+        Yes, there was lots
+        Of boats and yachts,
+        Of timber and of tin, too;
+        But one and all
+        Was far too small
+        For a doll o' my size to get into
+        I was too big
+        On any brig
+        To ship without disas-ter,
+        And it wouldn't never do
+        When the cap'n and the crew
+        Were a set 'o little swabs all plaster!
+
+_Chorus_--So to navigate the Serpentine, &c.
+
+    An Ark is p'raps
+    The berth for chaps
+    As is fond o' Natural Hist'ry.
+    But I sez to Shem
+    And the rest o' them,
+    "How you get along at all's a myst'ry!
+    With a Wild Beast Show
+    Let loose below,
+    And four fe-males on deck too!
+    I never could agree
+    With your happy fami-lee,
+    And your lubberly ways I objeck to."
+
+     [_Chorus. Hornpipe by the company, after which the_ Soldier
+     Doll _advances condescendingly to_ Miss JENNY.
+
+  _The Sold. D._ Invincible I'm reckoned by the Ladies,
+    But yield to you--though conquering my trade is!
+
+  _Miss J._ (_repulsing him_). Oh, go away, you great conceited thing, you!
+
+        [_The_ Sold. D. _persists in offering her attentions._
+
+  _Miss P._ (_watching them bitterly_). To be deserted by one's
+        doll _does_ sting you!
+
+        [_The_ Sailor D. _approaches._
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_to_ Miss P.) Let _me_ console you, Miss, a Sailor Doll
+    As swears his 'art was ever true to Poll!
+
+(N.B.--_Good opportunity for Song here._)
+
+  _Miss P._ (_indignantly to_ Miss J.) Your Sailor's teasing me to
+        be his idol!
+    Do make him stop--(_spitefully_)--When you've _quite_ done
+        with _my_ doll!
+
+  _Miss J._ (_scornfully._) If you suppose _I_ want your wretched warrior,
+    I'm sorry _for_ you!
+
+  _Miss P._            I for you am sorrier.
+
+  _Miss J._ (_weeping_, R.). Polly preferred to me--what ignominy!
+
+  _Miss P._ (_weeping_, L.). My horrid Soldier jilting me for Jenny!
+
+        [_The two Dolls face one another_, C.
+
+  _Sailor D._ (_to_ Soldier D.). You've made her sluice her sky-lights
+        now, you swab!
+
+  _Soldier D._ (_to_ Sailor D.). As you have broke her heart, I'll
+    break your nob!    [_Hits him._
+
+  _Sailor D._ (_in a pale fury_). This insult must be blotted out in bran!
+
+  _Soldier D._ (_fiercely_). Come on, I'll shed your sawdust--if I can!
+
+        [Miss J. _and_ P. _throw themselves between the combatants_.
+
+  _Miss J._ For any mess you make _we_ shall be scolded,
+    So wait until a drugget we've unfolded!
+
+        [_They lay down drugget on Stage._
+
+  _The Soldier D._ (_politely_). No hurry, Miss, _we_ don't object
+        to waiting.
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_aside_). His valour--like my own--'s evaporating!
+    (_Defiantly to_ Soldier D.). On guard! You'll see how soon
+        I'll run you through!
+    (_Confidentially._) (If you will not prod _me_, I won't pink _you_.)
+
+  _The Soldier D._ Through your false kid my deadly blade I'll pass!
+    (_Confidentially._) (Look here, old fellow, don't you be a _hass_!)
+
+        [_They exchange passes at a considerable distance._
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_aside_). Don't lose your temper now!
+
+  _Sold. D._        Don't get excited.
+    Do keep a little farther off!
+
+  _Sail. D._                      Delighted!
+
+        [_Wounds_ Soldier D. _by misadventure._
+
+  _Sold. D._ (_annoyed_). There now, you've gone and made upon
+        my wax a dent!
+
+  _Sail. D._ Excuse me, it was really quite an accident.
+
+  _Sold. D._ (_savagely_). Such clumsiness would irritate a saint!
+
+        [_Stabs Sailor Doll._
+
+  _Miss J. and P._ (_imploringly_). Oh, stop! the sight of sawdust
+        turns us faint!
+
+        [_They drop into chairs, swooning._
+
+  _Sail. D._ I'll pay you out for that!
+
+        [_Stabs Soldier D._
+
+  _Sold. D._                            Right through you've poked me!
+
+  _Sailor D._ So you have _me_!
+
+  _Sold. D._                  You shouldn't have provoked me!
+
+        [_They fall transfixed._
+
+  _Sailor D._ (_faintly_). Alas, we have been led away by vanity.
+    Dolls shouldn't try to imitate humanity!    [_Dies._
+
+  _Soldier D._ For, if they do, they'll end like us, unpitied,
+    Each on the other's sword absurdly spitted!
+
+     [_Dies._ Miss J. _and_ P. _revive, and bend sadly over the
+     corpses_.
+
+  _Miss Jenny._ From their untimely end we draw this moral,
+    How wrong it is, even for dolls, to quarrel!
+
+  _Miss Polly._ Yes, Jenny, in the fate of these poor fellows see
+    What sad results may spring from female jealousy!
+
+        [_They embrace penitently as Curtain falls._
+
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+CONRAD; OR, THE THUMBSUCKER.
+
+(_Adapted freely from a well-known Poem in the "Struwwelpeter."_)
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Conrad (aged 6)._
+
+    _Conrad's Mother(47)._
+
+    _The Scissorman (age immaterial)._
+
+
+     SCENE--_An Apartment in the house of_ CONRAD'S _Mother, window
+     in centre at back, opening upon a quiet thoroughfare. It is
+     dusk, and the room is lighted only by the reflected gleam from
+     the street-lamps._ CONRAD _discovered half-hidden by left
+     window-curtain._
+
+  _Conrad_ (_watching street_). Still there! For full an hour
+        he has not budged
+    Beyond the circle of yon lamp-post's rays!
+    The gaslight falls upon his crimson hose,
+    And makes a steely glitter at his thigh,
+    While from the shadow peers a hatchet-face
+    And fixes sinister malignant eyes--
+    On whom? (_Shuddering._) I dare not trust myself to guess
+    And yet--ah, no--it cannot be myself!
+    I am so young--one is still young at six!--
+    What man can say that I have injured him?
+    Since, in my Mother's absence all the day
+    Engaged upon Municipal affairs,
+    I peacefully beguile the weary hours
+    By suction of consolatory thumbs.
+
+     [_Here he inserts his thumb in his mouth, but almost instantly
+     removes it with a start._
+
+    Again I meet those eyes! I'll look no more--
+    But draw the blind and shut my terror out.
+
+        [_Draws blind and lights candle; Stage lightens._
+
+    Heigho, I wish my Mother were at home!
+    (_Listening._) At last! I hear her latch-key in the door!
+
+     [_Enter_ CONRAD'S _Mother, a lady of strong-minded appearance,
+     rationally attired. She carries a large reticule full of
+     documents._
+
+  _Conrad's M._ Would, Conrad, that you were of riper years,
+    So you might share your Mother's joy to-day,
+    The day that crowns her long and arduous toil
+    As one of London's County Councillors!
+
+  _Conrad._ Nay, speak; for though my mind be immature,
+    One topic still can charm my infant ear,
+    That ever craves the oft-repeated tale.
+    I love to hear of that august assembly
+
+        [_His Mother lifts her bonnet solemnly._
+
+    In which my Mother's honoured voice is raised!
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_gratified_). Learn, Conrad, then, that, after many months
+    Of patient "lobbying" (you've heard the term?)
+    The measure by my foresight introduced
+    Has triumphed by a bare majority!
+
+  _Con._ My bosom thrills with dutiful delight--
+    Although I yet for information wait
+    As to the scope and purpose of the statute.
+
+  _C.'s M._ You show an interest so intelligent
+    That well deserves it should be satisfied,
+    Be seated, Conrad, at your Mother's knee,
+    And you shall hear the full particulars.
+    You know how zealously I advocate
+    The sacred cause of Nursery Reform?
+    How through my efforts every infant's toys
+    Are carefully inspected once a month----?
+
+  _Con._ (_wearily_). Nay, Mother, you forget--I _have_ no toys.
+
+  _C.'s M._ Which brings you under the exemption clause.
+    But--to resume; how Nursery Songs and Tales
+    Must now be duly licensed by our Censor,
+    And any deviation from the text
+    Forbidden under heavy penalties?
+    All that you know. Well; with concern of late,
+    I have remarked among our infancy
+    The rapid increase of a baneful habit
+    On which I scarce can bring my tongue to dwell.
+
+        [_The Stage darker; blind at back illuminated._
+
+    Oh, Conrad, there are children--think of it!--
+    So lost to every sense of decency
+    That, in mere wantonness or brainless sloth,
+    They obstinately suck forbidden thumbs!
+
+        [CONRAD _starts with irrepressible emotion._
+
+    Forgive me if I shock your innocence!
+    (_Sadly._) Such things exist--but soon shall cease to be,
+    Thanks to the measure we have passed to-day!
+
+  _Con._ (_with growing uneasiness_). But how can statutes
+        check such practices?
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_patting his head_). Right shrewdly questioned,
+        boy! I come to that.
+    Some timid sentimentalists advised
+    Compulsory restraint in woollen gloves,
+    Or the deterrent aid of bitter aloes.
+    _I_ saw the evil had too deep a seat
+    To yield to such half-hearted remedies.
+    No; we must cut, ere we could hope to cure!
+    Nay, interrupt me not; my Bill appoints
+    A new official, by the style and title
+    Of "London County Council Scissorman,"
+    For the detection of young "suck-a-thumbs."
+
+     [_Here the shadow of a huge hand brandishing a gigantic pair of
+     shears appears upon the blind._
+
+  _Con._ (_hiding his face in his Mother's lap._) Ah, Mother,
+    see!... the scissors!... On the blind!
+
+  _C.'s M._ Why, how you tremble! You've no cause to fear.
+    The shadow of his grim insignia
+    Should have no terror--save for thumb-suckers.
+
+  _Con._ And what for _them_?
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_complacently_). A doom devised by me--
+    The confiscation of the culprit thumbs.
+    Thus shall our statute cure while it corrects,
+    For those who have no thumbs can err no more.
+
+     [_The shadow slowly passes on the blind_, CONRAD _appearing
+     relieved at its departure. Loud knocking without. Both start to
+     their feet._
+
+  _C.'s M._ Who knocks so loud at such an hour as this?
+
+  _A Voice._ Open, I charge ye. In the Council's name!
+
+  _C.'s M._ 'Tis the Official Red-legged Scissorman,
+    Who doubtless calls to thank me for the post.
+
+  _Con._ (_with a gloomy determination_). More like his business,
+        Madam, is with--Me!
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_suddenly enlightened_). A Suck-a-thumb? ... you, CONRAD?
+
+  _C._ (_desperately_). Ay,--from birth!
+
+     [_Profound silence, as Mother and Son face one another. The
+     knocking is renewed._
+
+  _C.'s M._ Oh, this is horrible--it must not be!
+    I'll shoot the bolt and barricade the door.
+
+     [CONRAD _places himself before it, and addresses his Mother in
+     a tone of incisive irony_.
+
+  _Con._ Why, where is all the zeal you showed of late?
+    Is't thus that you the Roman Matron play?
+    Trick not a statute of your own devising.
+    Come, your official's waiting--let him in!
+
+        [C's M. _shrinks back appalled_.
+
+    So? you refuse!--(_throwing open door_)--then--enter, Scissorman!
+
+     [_Enter the_ Scissorman, _masked and in red tights, with his
+     hand upon the hilt of his shears._
+
+  _The S._ (_in a passionless tone_). Though sorry to create
+        unpleasantness,
+    I claim the thumbs of this young gentleman,
+    Which these own eyes have marked between his lips.
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_frantically_). Thou minion of a meddling tyranny,
+    Go exercise thy loathsome trade elsewhere!
+
+  _The S._ (_civilly_). I've duties here that must be first performed.
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_wildly_). Take my two thumbs for his!
+
+  _The S._                                        'Tis not the law--
+    Which is a model of lucidity.
+
+  _Con._ (_calmly_). Sir, you speak well. My thumbs are forfeited,
+    And they alone must pay the penalty.
+
+  _The S._ (_with approval_). Right! Step with me into the outer hall,
+    And have the business done without delay.
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_throwing herself between them._) Stay, I'm a
+        Councillor--this law was _mine_!
+    Hereby I do suspend the clause I drew.
+
+  _The S._ You should have drawn it milder.
+
+  _Con._                                    Must I teach
+    A parent laws were meant to be obeyed?
+      [_To Sc._] Lead on, Sir. (_To his Mother with cold courtesy._)
+        Madam,--may I trouble you?
+
+[Illustration: "My Conrad!"]
+
+     [_He thrusts her gently aside and passes out with the_ Sc.;
+     _the door is shut and fastened from without._ C.'s M. _rushes
+     to door which she attempts to force without success._
+
+  _C.'s M._ In vain I batter at a senseless door,
+    I'll to the keyhole train my tortured ear.
+    (_Listening._) Dead silence! ... is it over--or, to come?
+    Hark! was not that the click of meeting shears?...
+    Again! and followed by the sullen thud
+    Of thumbs that drop upon linoleum!...
+
+     [_The door is opened and_ CONRAD _appears, pale but erect._
+     _N.B. The whole of this scene has been compared to one in "La
+     Tosca"--which, however, it exceeds in horror and intensity._
+
+  _C.'s M._ They send him back to me, bereft of both!
+    My CONRAD! What?--repulse a Mother's Arms!
+
+  _Con._ (_with chilling composure_). Yes, Madam, for between us ever more,
+    A barrier invisible is raised,
+    And should I strive to reach those arms again,
+    Two spectral thumbs would press me coldly back--
+    The thumbs I sucked in blissful ignorance,
+    The thumbs that solaced me in solitude,
+    The thumbs your County Council took from me,
+    And your endearments scarcely will replace!
+    Where, Madam, lay the sin in sucking them?
+    The dog will lick his foot, the cat her claw,
+    His paws sustain the hibernating bear--
+    And you decree no law to punish _them_!
+    Yet, in your rage for infantine reform,
+    You rushed this most ridiculous enactment--
+    Its earliest victim--your neglected son!
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_falling at his feet_). Say, CONRAD, you will some day pardon
+me?
+
+  _Con._ (_bitterly, as he regards his maimed hands._) Aye--on the day
+these pollards send forth shoots!
+
+     [_His_ Mother _turns aside with a heartbroken wail_; CONRAD
+     _standing apart in gloomy estrangement as the Curtain
+     descends._
+
+
+
+
+BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Transcribers Notes:
+
+Some minor obvious punctuation and typographical errors have been
+corrected silently. Unclosed quotes have been left as they appear in the
+original.
+
+
+Changes made:
+
+    Pg 15 "With enthusiams [replaced with "enthusiasm"] We can make
+    a shift to do it"
+
+    Pg 66 "and the restless winds be mowning." [replaced full stop
+    with comma]
+
+    Pg 95 "The Monster Man-trap steathily" [replaced with
+    "stealthily"]
+
+    Pg 128 "Even _this_ cannot shatter her alrtess [replaced with
+    "artless"] faith"
+
+    Pg 131 "If you please, Ladies and Gentlemen, my Grandmamma"
+    [replaced with "Grandmama" (used previously)]
+
+    Pg 156 "a constable I'll run for, [replaced comma with full stop.]"
+
+
+Both versions of the following words were used in the text:
+
+    latchkey, latch-key
+    limelight, lime-light
+    sashline, sash-line
+    selfsame, self-same
+
+
+All uncertain hyphenation left hyphenated:
+
+    Pg 25  a-noma-lee
+    Pg 38  elec-tresses
+    Pg 99  Bed-chamber
+    Pg 115 low-born
+    Pg 120 Christmas-time
+    Pg 164 sky-lights
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and
+Dramas, by F. Anstey
+
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