• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Christmas pieces
 Skates and life
 How the last act of Hamlet was...
 A Christmas croak
 A pot of preserves from Mount...
 Popular notions of popular...
 Back Cover
 Spine






Group Title: A cracker bon-bon for Christmas parties : consisting of Christmas pieces, for private representation, and other seasonable material in prose and verse
Title: A cracker bon-bon for Christmas parties
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00003106/00001
 Material Information
Title: A cracker bon-bon for Christmas parties consisting of Christmas pieces, for private representation, and other seasonable material in prose and verse
Physical Description: <2>, 99 p., <1> leaf of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 17 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Brough, Robert B ( Robert Barnabas ), 1828-1860
Vizetelly, Henry, 1820-1894 ( Printer )
Hine, Henry George, 1811-1895 ( Illustrator )
W. Kent & Co ( Publisher )
Publisher: W. Kent & Co.
Place of Publication: London
Manufacturer: Henry Vizetelly
Publication Date: 1861
 Subjects
Subject: English drama (Comedy)   ( lcsh )
Wit and humor -- Fiction   ( lcsh )
English wit and humor -- Poetry   ( lcsh )
Christmas -- Poetry   ( lcsh )
Hand-colored illustrations -- 1861   ( local )
Gold stamped cloth (Binding) -- 1861   ( local )
Bldn -- 1861
Genre: Hand-colored illustrations   ( local )
Gold stamped cloth (Binding)   ( local )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: by Robert B. Brough.
General Note: "How the last act of Hamlet was written"--P. <66>-80.
General Note: Frontispiece is signed by H.G. Hine and hand-colored.
General Note: Illustrations are caricatures.
Funding: Brittle Books Program
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00003106
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002222781
oclc - 07488076
notis - ALG3027
 Related Items
Other version: Alternate version (PALMM)
PALMM Version

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Frontispiece
        Frontispiece
    Title Page
        Title Page 1
        Title Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Table of Contents
    Christmas pieces
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Chapter I: King Alfred and the cakes
            Page 3
            Page 4
            Page 5
            Page 6
            Page 7
            Page 8
            Page 9
            Page 10
            Page 11
            Page 12
            Page 13
            Page 14
            Page 15
            Page 16
            Page 17
        Chapter II: William Tell
            Page 18
            Page 19
            Page 20
            Page 21
            Page 22
            Page 23
            Page 24
            Page 25
            Page 26
            Page 27
            Page 28
            Page 29
            Page 30
            Page 31
            Page 32
            Page 33
            Page 34
            Page 35
            Page 36
            Page 37
            Page 38
            Page 39
        Chapter III: Orpheus and Eurydice
            Page 40
            Page 41
            Page 42
            Page 43
            Page 44
            Page 45
            Page 46
            Page 47
            Page 48
            Page 49
            Page 50
            Page 51
            Page 52
            Page 53
            Page 54
            Page 55
            Page 56
            Page 57
            Page 58
            Page 59
    Skates and life
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
    How the last act of Hamlet was written
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
    A Christmas croak
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
    A pot of preserves from Mount Parnassus
        Page 85
        Chapter I: A specimen of the perpetual motion, or social progress school
            Page 86
            "Keep it up, my rum'uns"
                Page 87
                Page 88
        Chapter II: The superannuated kitchen utensil school
            Page 89
            "Cat's meat"
                Page 90
                Page 91
        Chapter III: The Ethiopian school
            Page 92
            "Old ginger crow"
                Page 93
        Chapter IV: Concluding specimen
            Page 94
            "'Tis sweet to roam when morning's light"
                Page 95
    Popular notions of popular performers
        Page 96
        Mr. Frank Matthews
            Page 96
        Mr. Wright
            Page 97
        Mr. O. Smith
            Page 98
        Mr. James Bland
            Page 99
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text




















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CRACKER BON-BON



FOR



CHRISTMAS PARTIES:


CONSISTING OF CHRISTMAS PIECES, FOR PRIVATE REPRESENTATION,

AND OTHER SEASONABLE MATTER, IN PROSE AND VERSE.




BY

ROBERT B. BROUGHT.


LONDON:
W. KENT & CO., PATERNOSTER ROW.
MDCCCLX1.












































LONDON:
HENRY VIZETELLY, PRINTER AND ENGRAVER,
GOUGH SQUARE, FLEET STREET.






















CONTENTS.






( RisiSIM PIECES--

I.-KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES 3

SII.-WILLIAM TELL 18

ii --ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 40

FSLATi A.D LIFE 60

DOW TUE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRITTEN 70

A (CBI TMAS CROAK 66

A I i '.IF PRESERVES FROM MOUNT PARNASSUS:-

I.-A SPECIMEN OF THE PERPETUAL MOTION, OR SOCIAL PROGRESS SCHOOL:-

"KEEP IT UP, MY RUM UN" 87

II -THE SUPERANNUATED KITCHEN UTENSIL SCHOOL 89

"OCAT'S MEAT" 90

I!] -THE ETHIOPIAN SCHOOL 92

"OLD GINGER CROW" 93

'.--CONCLUDING SPECIMEN :- 94

"'TIS SWEET TO ROAM WHEN MORNING'S LIGHT" 95

rFOPi i.R NOTIONS OF POPULAR ACTORS:-

'". FRANK MATTHEWS 96

u, WRIGHT 97

"it. O. SMITH 98

'I.. BLAND 99












CHRISTMAS PIECES.

(NOT AT ALL SUITED TO THE STAGE, BUT THE VERY THING
FOR THE FRONT DRAWING-ROOM.)

HE following little
jLj. Dramas are strong-
ly recommended to
families anxious to
Samuse themselves,
and (as a secondary
consideration)their
S\ friends, at this fes-
\tive season of the
year, with private
theatricals. If des-
.. titute of any other
S" merit, they, at all
events, possess those of brevity and simplicity. The import-
ance of the former, in such representations, we need not impress
upon the amateur (such of his friends who have had the for-







2 PREFACE.
tune to witness his previous efforts, having, doubtless, already
done so),-whilst the latter will enable him to triumph over
all difficulties in the shape of "getting up," or "mounting,"
(generally such sad up-hill work with non-professionals !) As
descriptive placards, in the Elizabethan style, will supply the
place of scenery, and no appointments need be cared about
beyond those requisite for rehearsals (which are never kept),
the pieces may be got up literally regardless of expense (if we
except the preliminary three-and-sixpence for prompt copy).
And it is hoped the general lightness of the productions will
admit of their being supported (or borne) without taxing the
entire strength of the company.










I.-KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.


AN HISTORICAL DRAMA.



[The great fault found, and deservedly, with modern playwrights,
is, that they will not write the Drama of our Hearths and Homes.
The following dramatic sketch, the author flatters himself, will be
found an exception to the rule. The liberal use he has made of such
household matters as baking, a scolding matron, the coal-hole, &c.,
gives an irresistible charm of homeliness to his production. And as
the entire scene is laid in the immediate vicinity of the oven and fire-
place, the tone of sentiment throughout is necessarily of the hearth
-hearthy."]

Vrsnmus rrprrrnOth.
ALFRED THE GREAT, King of England,
(At present fulfilling a provincial engagement as a journeyman baker).
G THRUM, Leader of the 'Danish Forces,
JOHN SMITH, Neatherd and Fancy Baker,
(Hot rolls at eight, and dinners punctually attended to).
MRS. SMITH, his excitable better half.
TIME OF REPRESENTATION-Just before Supper.

ScENE- Neatherd's cottage and public laaehouse of the olden time. Various
placards in the Anglo-Saxon character, such as Hot Rolls at Eight,"
Tost Bread (down again to 5d.," disposed about the scene.







KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.


ALFRED (attired, according to the costume of the period, in a cotton nightcap
and apron) is discovered depositing tea-cakes, Sally Lunns, &c., in the oven.
The entire batch being disposed of, he comes forward, and strikes an attitude.







A monarch who his lans lt frsaes,












To pass his life amongst a set of cakes;
And close it, far from regal pomp and state,
Though buried amongstt the ashes of the grate.
---V










AL Well! Faith, when things are all so d and rusty,





A baker's situation's none so dusty.
At all events, I'm safe from Dane and danger;
N o one suspects the unpretending strasng strange.
A monarch who his land's e5lita forsakes,
To pass his life amongst a set of cakes;
And close it, far from regal pomp and state,
Though buried 'mongst the ashes of the grate.
Well! Faith, when things are all so dull and rusty,
A baker's situation's none so dusty.
At all events, I'm safe from Dane and danger;
No one suspects the unpretending stranger--
Who, o'er Smith's oven, holds the foreman's post,
Guarding the baked meat-once had ruled the roast!








KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.

It's seldom I repine at Fortune's dealings,
Though memory will bring back no end of feelings;
When on the brown crisp rolls my eyes I fix,
I think upon those brave, though crusty, bricks,
Who-e'en as now I stir the dough so barmy-
With me, stirr'd up the flow'r of Guthrum's army;
And the fermenting bread-in size increased-
Oft calls to mind a rising in the (y) east;
Which once I quell'd-when that bold rebel, Jackson,
Was hung on high-although a hang-low Saxon.*









N. ...........





SONG (ALFRED).
(AmI-Mary Blane.)
Oh! once I was a happy king,
And led as gay a life

SThe above couplet is strongly recommended to mercy.








6 KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.

As Cole himself, in all his pride
Of fiddle, pipe, and fife.
At home we lived so happily,
Quite free from grief and pain,
Till, one fine day, we found ourselves
Invaded by the Dane.
But mind your eye, my wary Dane,
A rod in pickle soaks for you;
With lots of fleas your ears to pain,
We'll send you home again.

As going through the woods one day,
I hook'd it in disguise
(For he who fights and runs away,
You know, is reckon'd wise),
I of this situation heard,
So came, the place to seek-
Agreed to terms-and here I am,
At thirteen bob a-week.
But mind your eye, &c.

My upper G- (which means, of course, G---- up!)
Would be improved by just the slightest sup-
Of moisture. Shop! just mind yourself now, please,
While I step over to the Cheshire Cheese







KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES. 7

To get a drain. I've not much time to sport,
So what I do take must be something short.
[Tucks up his apron, takes of his nightcap, and exit.

[ Enter GUTHRUM, disguised as a peasant. He raps with
his knuckles on the counter.












GUTH. Shop! Want-ed! Who's at home? Does no one hear?
Who waits ? Myself, it seems! egad, it's queer:
Far from polite of them, it must be said-
A fancy baker's! and no better bred! [Sits down.
The news that we've been wopped and overthrown,
In this vicinity-is not yet known.
So I may chance to 'scape, and ne'er be scented;
Th' Electric Telegraph not being invented. [Knocks again.
They are-which makes my strong impatience stronger-
A good time coming--(Sits down again.) Wait a little longer!
[He becomes furiously impatient.







8 KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.

Shop! It's too bad! A set of careless loons--
'Twould serve them right were I to bone the spoons!
I'd do it, too-but that I rather fear
There's little silver to be met with here;
And since my troops the natives chose to settle,
I've had sufficient of Britannia mettle.
Still, out of something this concern I'll chisel:
I'll take-let's see-a quarter loaf! then mizzle.

[He takes a quarter loaf, and tucks it up under his smock-
frock.




.iI










SONG (GUTHravM).

(Am-One Bumper at parting.)

One buster at parting (though many
The act down as thieving would set),







KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES. 9

I'11 take-and not suffer from any
Such feelings as shame or regret.
The alum and ground bones within it,
Are crammed so remarkably tight,
That really, instead of a sin, it
Is serving the baker quite right.
Then, Oh may such villanous ruffi'ns
Be all, at the Bailey, had up;
And, on their own poisonous muffins,
Be forced to dine, breakfast, and sup.

[Enter ALFRED, briskly, wiping his lips, and re-arranging
his apronfor business.

ALF. I'll make that Cheshire Cheese my favourite haunt--

[Seeing GUTHRUM.
A customer! (Politely.) What did you please to want ?
Mr. and Mrs. Smith are out to tea-
GUTH. (Starting.) That voice!
ALF. (Starting.) No!
GUTH. Yes!
ALF. 'Tis!
GUTH. 'Tisn't!
ALF. \ Can it be ?
Villain!







KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.


"A-


GUTH. (Aside.) He's found me out, and nothing but it.
Confound his stupid head-I'd better cut it.
[He draws a sword, which has been concealed beneath his
smock-frock, suddenly ; and aims a treacherous blow at
the head of Alfred, which that great monarch is suf-
ficiently wide awake to avoid.


ii
:"'",.

S >= .-,' .'4
,| .
,,,,,


A LF Come, that's against the rules. You might have cried,
Strike !" or, Come on !" or, This, then, to decide !"


10









KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.


Just wait a second. (Fetches a sword.) Now I'm ready-sixes ?
GUTH. Oh! any style you please.


Then, make it Hicks's.
[Combat a la Hicks.


GUTH. It's rather warm-a minute please, not more;
A comforter sometimes becomes a bore.
[ He takes of his comforter. The fight is resumed.
ALF. Yield!
GUTH. Not while any drops of blood remain.
I 'm more an antique Roman than a Dane.
[He receives a powerful blow.
I say, hit one of your own size. (Another.) Come, drop it!

[He is struck down.


There's been enough of this-suppose we stop it ?
ALF. (Stabbing him.) That brings it to a close, my spark, high mettled.
GUTH. (Faintly.) Yes; a receipt in full-I may say settled.


ALF.


11


~-~- ~

--7 _. ~~C-~








12 KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.

[ALFRED kneels upon the prostrate body of GUTHRUM, and
disposes of him in the following manner.

ALF. Down, down, to what-d'ye-call the place, and say
I sent you there to make a longish stay.
What's to be done with him ? It's very clear
This defunct Ferguson can't lodge here.
Were I the master here, I might be led-
To grind his bones to make the people bread;
But as I play the workman's humble part,
I've not the interest of the firm at heart.
lie's got no parish! No, a Dane's a foreigner.
The coal-hole! Yes; I'll keep him for the coroner.
He won't keep many days!-a nose would then mark
Something-Ahem !-Gone, in the state of Denmark.

[Drags GUTHRUM to the coal-hole door, and shuts him in.







KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.


Good gracious--though-the cakes! I quite forgot.

[Runs precipitately to oven door, and opens it. He starts
back with horror.

Oh! here's a horrid burning shame! all hot!
Soot black! What fire could thus to ashes turn 'er ?
Unless 't was kindled with the wood of Birnam.
No wonder that my mind tow'rds Scotland turns,
Methinks I'm in the Land of Cakes and Burns.
I've been and done it. Yes; there'll be a row
When Mrs. Smith comes in ; she won't allow


BA KING CARE FU -- ~Q


For my neglected baking-an excuse
That I was busy, cooking Guthlrum's goose.


13








14


KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.


Enter MRS. SMITH.
Already!
MRs. S. Have you drawn the batch yet ?
ALF. (Uneasily). No!
It isn't drawn. (Aside). She'll find it's coloured, though.
MRS. S. (Running to oven door). What do I see ? What sight my
soul amazes ?
The cakes all burning like-in fact, like blazes!
Wretch you shall pay for this.
ALF. (Humbly). Send in the bill!
MRS. S. You will repent it.
ALF. Possibly I will;
Nor need-materials for repentance lack,
I've made the ashes and expect the sack.




6 - -r

Z,








KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.

MRS. S. Come, your Assurance, sir, I don't require,
Unless it will make good our loss by fire.
Where have you been, and what have you been takin' ?
Would I had been in time to save my bakin'!
ALF. Now, pray with those black gloomy looks have done.
MRS. S. Black looks, indeed! Behold this Sally Lunn!
ALF. I may explain this accident unpleasant,
Although things do look rather black at present-

Enter SMITH, excited.

SMI. News! news! The Danes, with suddenness surprising,
















Have been defeated, and the stocks are rising.
On Guthrum's head a heavy price is set-
ALF. Huzza! my friends. We may be happy yet.


15







16 KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.

Haste! claim the sum the posters advertise,
For Guthrum's head in yonder coal-hole lies.
[The coal-hole is suddenly opened from within, and GUTH-
RUM walks out, alive, and appearing in excellent health
and spirits.
Guthrum !-alive!
GUTH. Yes, for a short time more;
I was but stunn'd against the bakehouse floor:
And, by a very wondrous piece of fort'n'-
Instead of me, you only stabb'd this quart'n.


[Producing the quarter loaf which he had concealed under
his smock-frock; by means of which, to the intense
astonishment of the audience, his life has been saved.
ALF. The staff of life, then, warded off my blows ?
Ah, well! You must be pardon'd, I suppose.








KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.


SMI. (Astonished). Why, who are you ?
ALF. Who? (Aside) With surprise I'll scare'em.
I'm simply Alfred-Rex Britanniarum!
[Strikes an attitude.
MR. & MRS. SMI. (Kneeling). The king!
ALF. Yes, you the royal hand may kiss.
SSMI. (Aside). A good week's wages I shall save by this.
ALF. Rise, rise, my friends! and, for past kindness' sake,
You, Smith, the Master of the Rolls I'll make;
And, in remembrance of this baking fun,
Henceforth I'll take the name of ALFRED BUN.
















Curtain falls.


17














II.-WILLIAM TELL;

OR, THE CIVIL WAR IN SWITZERLAND.

A DRAMA FOR THE PEOPLE.



Charactrrs.

AUSTRIANS.

GESLER, the original Austrian butcher,
(Not likely to be quarrelledfor by the actors, as he is unquestionably the worst
character in the drama.)

POLICEMAN A 21, his Official Representative.

Guards, Attendants, Police, Sc.

SWISS.

WILLIAM TELL, a Demagogue in a constant state of Agitation.
VERNERB,
FURST, Repealers.
MICHAEL,
ALBERT, Tell's Son.-(The original Merry Swiss Boy.)
Peasants, Blackguards, Hereditary Bondsmen, lc.

SCENE-Switzerland.








WILLIAM TELL. 19















SCENE THE FIRST.
A romantic pass, somewhere out in the cold. VERNER, solus, trying to warm
himself, by blowing on his fingers.

VER. It's time the sub-committee met, that's clear;

I've got no watch, although I keep one here,
And so can't tell the time. Had I a ticker
I'd tell it-to move on a little quicker.
Here's Furst, at last. I thought I heard his shout.

Enter FURST.








-r ~








.oy WILLIAM TELL.

FUR. I'm warm with walking.
"VER. Ah! I'm cold without.
Where's Michael?
Fun. All behind, of course, the bore !
VER. Behind! He promised to be here by four.
Hast met Bill Tell ?
FUn. No, Verner; no such treat.
Bills in these times are difficult to meet.
But see; here's Michael.
Enter MICHAEL.
VER. Welcome, Mike!
MIc. Alas!
It seems we've all come to this precious Pass.
VER. Your news?
MIC. The Daily News! It's all alike.
Wouldst hear it?
VER. To be sure.
FUR. Cut away, Mike.
MIC. Gesler, whose tyranny knows ne'er a truce,
Still rules the roast, and cooks the Switzer's goose,
With corn and malt tax makes the quarterns dear,
And robs the poor man of his cherish'd beer
(For the once merry Swiss boy of the Tale
No longer of a morning takes his pale").








WILLIAM TELL.

With new Wrongs, Outrages, Coercion Bills,

Each late edition of the papers thrills:

Cabins, in flames, our native mountains crowd;

Cabins, where smoking shouldn't be allowed:

Business is at a stand-still-stocks are falling;

The daily emigration's quite appalling.

This social problem puzzles every one;
For us--the People what is to be done ?


TELL (Outside). Holloa!

VER. O0

Mic. He sings out bravely.


FUR.


ir leader comes! my friends, rejoice!


Yes; he's got a voice-

All throat, though. In these times-hle's so distressed

He's not a single good note in his chest;


"""""""""""""""""""'~
I-C
I


'T7r----








WILLIAM TELL.


Yet for his skill in planning revolution,
Few Austrians would blame his execution.


Enter TELL in a great-coat and woollen comforter.


TELL. My friends and patriots, I hope you're well.
VER. How fares our liberator P-William-tell.
TELL (Unwinding his comforter). Striving the chilling influence
to prevent
Of this, the winter of our discontent;
Though, thanks to tyrants, for our blood who've thirsted,
Our only bosom comforters are worsted!
But we're all here-for business, let's prepare.
Mrc. I move that William Tell do take the chair.








WILLIAM TELL. 23

TELL (Bitterly). Chairs, stools, all! Gesler's bailiffs from us wrench
Till nought is left for Switzers but the Bench!
No matter, though; to work-which is the chair ?
VER. Sit on that rail instead.
TELL. What, that one there?
It's not a first-class rail, but it'll do.
Now who begins the evening's business ?
Mic. You!
Move on.
TELL. I sha'n't; I'm comfortable here.
Mic. Stuff! Make a motion.
TELL. Now your meaning's clear.

[Mn. TELL rises to address the meeting.









Hereditary bondsmen! Don't you know that
Who would be free, themselves must strike the--
Mic. Blow that!
Try something new.
TELL. Oh! certainly. Here goes!
The haughty Gesler's domineering nose
I'll soon disjoint; remove our country's curse,
Or die upon the floor of--
MIC. (Disgusted). Worse and worse.
TELL. Then here's a proposition-that a rent
Shall be collected-something large per cent.
On what the people really haven't got.
Mic. Ah! now, I own, you seem to lhow what's what.
FUR. I like the plan extremely, I confess.
VER. I'll be collector with great willingness.
FUR. But when we've got it, how should it be spent ?
TELL. As Mrs. Glass would say, first catch your rent.
We four, the spending of it, will enforce.
VER. The resolution's carried, then ?
ALL. Of course.
FUR. Then let's dissolve.
TELL (Lachrymously). A motion to my mind,
For to the melting mood I feel inclined.
Mic. Then we break up.


24


WILLIAM TELL.








WILLIAM TELL.

TELL. Let's mind and not break down.
I must be off, they're wanting me in town.

VER. Then is the evening's business finished ?

Mic. Quite.

TELL. Carried unanimously. Gents, good night.

[ Exeuni severally.


tB~F""'-
_~--c~2
----
~~S~r~,~J~/JICfj~iC~lsi-D----3 --C--








WILLIAM TELL.


SCENE THE SECOND.

The Market-place at Altorf-In the centre a new four-and ninepenny hat (in
the original brown paper and string) is elevated on the top of a pole.
Citizens cross the stage and bow to it.


POLICEMAa A 21, in full uniform, exerts his truncheon and authority to bring
the people (several of whom are refractory) to their knees.


CONCERTED (A 21 AND CHORUS.)

(TuNE-The Row Polka.)

Bow! bow! bow! bow! bow!

Down upon yur marrow bones.
our


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WILLIAM TELL. 27

Now! now! now!


we'd
Now!no! t w'd } best, I vow.

Ri tol di riddle iddle, bow! wow! wow!


SOLO (A 21).

(To another Air.)

All round my hat
I would have them bow and kneel, oh!"
(Such were the words which Gesler used to me to-day;)
And if anybody hxes you
The reason why I rears it-
You can tell 'em they may go to Bath, or further still away! "

[He loses himself in a cadence, but is recalled to a sense of
duty.

CHORUS (resumed).

Bow! bow &c.
A 21. Haste to the pole!

[TELL crosses the stage, taking no notice of the hat.

Now, then, where are you off to ?
TELL. Dinner.








WILLIAM TELL.


A. 21. Quick! yonder hat your bonnet doff to.
TELL. Bow to a hat ?
A 21. Yes! need no more reproof!
Remove your tile when under Gesler's roof. [Points to hat.
TELL. Gesler's! I see. He'll drive the people mad-
Bow to his hat it's really shocking bad.
A 21. (Pointing to the ground). Down! with the dust; or else I'll
make you, clown!
TELL. Not e'en Sir Peter's self shall put me down.
A 21. If in this rudeness you persist, I'll stop it-
So, if you've any court'sy, please to drop it.
TELL. My cup of anguish over 'gins to swim,
Fill'd by yon hat-yes, to its very brim.
(Firmly) Kneel to a hat, from Gesler's greasy pole:
No! on my feet I'll stand-ay, on my soul!


28









And thou, vile post! I'll smash thee all to shivery:
All Switzerland shall bless this Post Delivery.

[He rushes to the side, and fetches an axe, with which he
chops the pole down. Great confJsion-which may be
taken advantage of, by any wag in the audience, to make
a joke about the Pole being one of the distressed Poles.

A.











Thus would that I could make the Austrian thieves
Cut all their sticks, and never axe their leaves.
A 21. (Coming forward). He's broke the whole on't! let alone the
peace.
A voice within me calls Police !" "Police !."
True as the needle to yon pole, I'll boast-
A-Twenty-one-would not desert his post.
[He springs his rattle. POLICEMEN appear from the neigh-
bouring kitchens, and surround TELL.


WILLIAM TELL.


29







.0 WILLIAM TELL.

CIORUS (resumed).

How! how! here's a row!
Drag him to the station-Now now! now!
How! how! refuse to bow ?
Ri tol di riddle iddle-Bow! wow wow !

[TELL is vanquished, and draugge off in custody.







WILLIAM TELL.


SCENE THE THIRD.
The Austrian Camp-GESLER reading the paper. TELL is brought in hand-
cufed, guarded by A 21 and auxiliaries, the populace following.

GES. What's this ? Another case of beer ?-I see:
Fine him five shillings, and do n't bother me.
Yet, stay! that haughty form and features bold !
Who art thou, slave ?
TELL. I'm Tell.
GES. So I am told.
How old are you P
TELL. Why, forty, as I'm guessing.
GES. (To his Clerk.) Write Forty-and of looks unprepossessing."
Your business ?
TELL. If my trade you would inquire,
I draw the long bow-


31







WVILLIAM IELL.


GES. (Aside). Now he is a liar.
You've learnt to read ? Mind you're before your betters.
'ELL. Read! Well, I'll let you know I know my letters.

SONG (TELL).
(TuNE-Derry down.)
A, was an Archer who shot at a frog,
B, was a Butcher, who went the whole hog.
C, the Contempt that B brought on his place,
D, the Defiance A hurl'd in his face.
Down, derry down, &c.

GES. I know you well, and what you're always arter,
Lecturing folks about the People's Charter,
From casks and platforms; thundering and bawling
With all your lungs; a most disgraceful calling.
But what's he charged with ? Law I'll soon dispense!
A 21. Contempt of hat.
GES. A capital offence!
Yet stay-those Bluchers! that indignant pose!
That look! that eagle eye! and parrot nose!
IHe's very like that little vulgar boy,
Whom, dressed in button-over corduroy,
I've had lock'd up for crying whip behind"
As I rode out. Ho! Justice is n't blind.








WILLIAM TELL.


I see a way to make this tough one tender.
Before us place the juvenile offender!

[ALBERT is brought in, guarded.


ALE. (Aside, recognizing TELL). Dad! I'll not own him, though!
the deuce a bit;
Though torn in half, I wo'nt be made to split.
TELL (Aside). My Albert!








34 WILLIAM TELL.

GES. Let's examine him forthwith.
Your name, boy ?
ALB. Albert.
GEs. Albert what ?
ALB. (Winking at his father.) Hem! Smith.
GES. Ah! that won't do. Feel in his pockets, quick!
[A 21 searches ALBERT'S pocket.
A 21. Two tops, an apple, and a half-sucked stick
Of barley-sugar.
GES. Stop! give us a bit.
This spoil becomes the conq'ror's perquisite.
[Sucking the barley sugar. A 21 is proceeding to bite th
apple ; GESLER snatches it from him.
Stop! no, you don't, my buck; that's ours as well,
We mean to have some fun with it. Here, Tell.
TELL. I am here.
GEs. Of your jokes pray have a care,
Your whereabouts is neither here nor there.
You ought to die-but yet I don't mind giving
You and your son a chance to earn a living.
TELL. You're very kind; anything I can do-
GES. We want to see a little sport; so you
At fifty yards off, with an arrow straight,
Must shoot this apple from young Albert's pate. -







WILLIAM TELL.

TELL (Agonized). That apple! What, is this your mercy's fruit?
No! rather, upon me, your own bolts shoot.
Think you your tyrant powers me can force
To cook his infant goose-with apple sauce ?


ALB. Nay, pa; I'm game.
TELL. Could I make game of thee
I would preserve, not shoot thee.
ALm. Why shoot me ?
You'll hit the apple-
'TE.L (JMaudlin). He-his mother's joy!
She's always saying, Tell, do'nt hit that boy."
How, with maternal anguish, would she cry out,
To see him homeward going-with his eye out.

(With a sigh of resignation.








WILLIAM TELL.

But it's my dear boy's wish, I must not foil him,
Though perhaps, through my indulgence, I may spoil him.

[ALBERT is led out by A 21, holding the apple. TELL
takes his bow and his aim.


Slay my own son! Our dearest friends to shoot us;
My hair stands straight-I feel a perfect Brutus.
ALB. (Outside). All right, my venerable. Don't say die.
GES. Go it, my pippin!
TEJLL. Albert, mind your eye!

[He shoots. A shout of triumph. TELL falls nto some
body's arms-it is immaterial whose.









WILLIAM TELL.


GES. He's sent a hole through it. Come, that's a bore !

ALB. (Running in with the apple, the arrow sticking in it).

He's pierced the rosy apple to the core.

GES. Rosy! young upstart. Come, that's like your cheek.

Well, for your life you've had an arrow squeak.

(Aside) They'll doubtless claim our promise to be hooking.

We can't be off it well.

ALB. (Aside). There's no one looking.


[Commences eating the apple.


TELL. I've paid my shot, so p'raps you'll let me go.

GES. But there's an old score not yet clear'd, you know.

Say, if you 'd missed it, what would you have done ?

TELL. I should have punched you, had I drill'd my son.


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38 WILLIAM TELL.

GES. Treason again! Off with the traitor bold.
Give him a few bars rest in prison-
MIC. (Suddenly entering from somewhere). Hold!


V1r L "i








-.t t ^^"" --" a,.._^



[Ecerybody expresses aston islment.


SONG (MICHAEL).

Come arouse ye,
Arouse ye,
My merry Swiss boys,
Bring your staves and belabour away!

Enter unlimited numbers of merry Swiss boys from every-
where. They attack the Austrians, and vanquish them
in something considerably less than a quarter of a







WILLIAM TELL. 39

minute. TELL puts his foot on GESLER'S neck, MICHAEL
serves A 21 in a similar manner. By this unexpected
Coup d'Etat the drama and the CIVIL WAR in Swit-
zerland is concluded.


TABLEAU.

Blue Fire. Curtain.
/














III.-ORPHEUS -AND EURYDICE;


OR, THE WANDERING MINSTREL.

A CLASSIC DRAMA.



[FEELING himself on Classic ground, the author has considered
it his duty, in the present instance, to adhere strictly to the principles
of Dramatic composition as enforced by Aristotle, but neglected by
Fitzball and Shakspeare. The Unities of Time, Place, and Action,
he has observed scrupulously, (that is to say, as far as lay in his
power, for he confesses himself in doubt as to what the Unity of
Time really is, unless the circumstance of a Drama "going like
one o'clock" may be considered an illustration of it). He has also
preserved the Chorus-at the end of several of his parodies. With
regard to the presence or absence of classic erudition displayed
in his work, he can only say that whatever objections may be raised
to the pathetic passages, the most invidious caviller will not deny
that an intimate acquaintance with the ancients-even to the remotest
period of antiquity-is evident in the jocular portions of it.]







ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.


irmatis zrrin.
PLUTO, Monarch of--
PROSERPINE, the partner of his Fireside.
CHARON, an Ancient Mariner. The original Jolly Young Waterman.
CERBERUS, a watchman-the Dog-berry of Heathen Mythology-a Policemanr
of the K 9 (canine) Division.
ORPHEUS, the wandering minstrel.
EURYDICE, the young woman who led him astray.

The Curtain rises on a fireside group, in a locality which will soon be obvious,
but which there is no occasion to mention by name. PROSERPINE, setting
the tea things. PLUTO, toasting a muffin on the prongs of his fork.
CERBERUS asleep on the hearth-rug.*


Lo OL, 1C






I', .-77, 7MM 1 5-11,
-- --,,- -------------








The necessary "make-up of this gentleman may at first dishearten amateur
managers, let them be never so enterprising, by its apparent impracticably. It
can, however, be easily accomplished. Papier Machi cast of countenance, of a


41







41 -ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.

FLU. My dear, just ring for coals, it's dreadful weather.
Make up the fire, and let's be snug together.

[He proceeds to butter tie muffin, which CERBERUS smells,
PLUTO raps him smartly on one of his noses.

Lie down! his hunger does n't seem to stop;
Hasn't the dog's-meat man brought round his sop ?
A precious night-upon the Stygian dyke
For Charon's boat; 't will founder-wherry like!
The roads in such a state, too-all want paving,
Remind me, dear, (we mustn't be too saving,
And cures are more expensive than preventions)-
To order in a load of Good Intentions.

[A knock. CERBERUS growls.

Lie down, you whelp. My dear, he's such a snarler,
I wonder you allow him in the parlour.
See who it is.
PRos. (going to door.) It's CHARON!


decidedly canine aspect, may be purchased at any toy-shop; and as even two heads
are better than one, the effect of a head-dress composed of three, may be imagined.
With a little attention to the appropriate action, this character in the hands of any
very young gentleman of active habits, may be made a very funny dog indeed.







ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.


PLU. Ask him in.
[Enter CHARON in a pilot coat and glazed hat.
PROS. Why, I declare he's dripping to the skin.
CHA. A fare, sir.
PLTJ. Male or female ?
CnA. Gal!
ILU. Admit her.
CHIA. (Calling outside). Now then, ma'am.
[ Enter EURYDICE, carrying a bandbox, umbrella, and pattens.
PLU. Brother Jove! a splendid critter.
CIIA. Hanythink more, sir ?
PLU. No, you may retire.
Mix him a glass, my love, of liquid fire.
[Exit CHARON.


EFrv. This is the place, then! Well, upon my word-
PLU. Don't mention it-it's name is never heard.


43







ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.


But may I ask the name of the divinity
Who with her presence honours this vicinity ?
EUn. Why, though I hate impertinent inquisitors,
It's only right that folks should know their visitors.















SONG (EURYDICE).

(AR--Jenny Jones.)

My name's Eury-di-ce, excuse the penultimate,
Made long, as the music and metre entails.
My father and mother pronounce it Eru-y-dice,
Good truth, that's the way, but the prosody fails.
And indeed o'er all rules, both of grammar and poetry,
Those of sweet music I prize far above,
For, indeed, in my heart, I do love that accomplishment,
And Orpheus, my husband and master, I love.


44







ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.


I started from earth and the vale of my fathers,
As Fate had decreed o'er the Styx I should pass;
But I don't care two pins for my present predicament,
And I sh'n't even say Woe is me," or Alas! "
For my husband has vowed to release and restore me
To my home, and what's more, to my music, above!
For indeed, in my heart I do love that accomplishment,
And Orpheus, my husband and master, I love.

PLU. Take you away from here! to earth? Get out!













Eun. I mean to--
PLU. Bother!
Eun. You-beyond a doubt;
And that ere long--
PLU. Stuff! Once within our wickets,
You come to stop. We don't give pass out tickets.







ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.


SONG (PLUTo).
(TUNE-It's no use knocking' at de door.)
You have just come from town, and its very plain to me,
You're wholly unacquainted with the sort of thing you'll see.
You may read, above our gate, inscribed in letters clear,
Of getting out, all hope abandon, ye who enter here."
And it's no use knocking at the door any more,
It's no use knocking at the door.

CHORUS.
And it's no use knockin', &c.













E t I. We'll see.
PLU. Oh yes, we'll see-but, as you've come,
I think you had better make yourself at home.
So, ere your spouse our bell and knocker wrings off,
Step up with Mrs; P., and take your things off.







ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.

CONCERTED.
(AI--Going ober de mountain.)
Evu. I'll be off, you'll very soon see;
PLU. Make haste down and have some tea.
EuR. Soon to hear him say, in accents bold-
PLU. Well, if you prefer your muffins cold-
EUR. Re raw, my true love,
Oh come along, my darling!"
(To Pluto) Much distress'd to leave you,
But don't let my parting grieve you.
PLU. (derisively) Yah! yah! yah! yah! yah!
Yah! yah! yah! yah! you!
EUR. Oh, come along from this low place,
I'm going over the mountains."
CHORUS.
Yah! yah! &c.




iil~-U


47




I


48 ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE,

[~Exit EURYDICE, escorted by PROSERPINE, carrying a bed-
room candlestick.
PLU. What an idea! unheard of, I must say!
Get out of here, indeed; I wish she may.
Yet I must take precautions with the slut,
She seems so sharp; who knows but she might cut.
With bolts and bars I'll make her fast-but steady.
Hang it! the jade seems fast enough already !
And with her tongue's incipient noise and clatter,
To shut her up appears no easy matter.
Yet I must try; with heavy chains and thick locks,
That shall defy e'en transatlantic picklocks.
[A street organ is heard outside, playing Jeannette and
Jeannot." PLUTO starts, with an agonized expression
of countenance. CERBERUS growls.












For the further assurance of despondent amateurs-these instruments of tor-
ture may be hired for the night at a very moderate charge.







ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE. 49

What's that ? Good heavens!

[The tune is continued with increased violence.

Help! Be quiet! Mercy!

(Holding his ears.) He doesn't seem inclined to- Vice versy.

Oh dear! (Runs to windoww) Be off!
















(Outside). I sha'n't.
Leave off!
I won't.


[The tune increases in loudness ; the agony of PLUTO in
intensity.

PLU. What's to be done? it's getting louder.
(With a yell of anguish.) Don't !


ORP.
PLU.
ORP.








ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.

Our peace of mind for ever 'twill destroy.

Hie Cerberus! Good doggy! At him, boy.















[lie opens the door, urging CERBERUS to the attack in the

usual manner. ORPHEUS enters, partly dressed as an
Italian boy, playing an organ. CERBERUS rushes at

him growling, but is met boldly by ORPHEUs, who plays
the organ full in his face. Unable to stand the itfiic-
tion, CERBMRUS runs away, yelping.





IA




4Vc R -- r







ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE. 51

PLU. I say, move on-or I shall make you.
ORP. Shall you ?
Of peace and quietness I know the value.
PLU. (Ofering him a sixpence). Take this and go about your
business.

















ORP, Stuff!
PLU. Well, here's another-
ORP. Pshaw not half enough.
PLU. I offered you a shilling.
ORP. Yes-you did I see;
But I, Sir, don't move on-under Eurydice.
PLU. Who art thou, slave, whose noise our aching sconce hurts?
ORP. Professor Orpheus-from the Ancient Concerts.








ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.


SONG.
(ORPHEvS, accompanying himself on the organ.)
















(Ain-Marble IHalls.)*

The minstrel boy, to Old Scratch, has gone
For his wife in hopes to find her,
The monster organ he has girded on
Of a wild Italian grinder.
Sound of woe! said the wandering bard,
As all the world so fears thee,
E'en Pluto's self-clean off his guard
Will be thrown, whene'er he hears thee.

The author has taken care to select two airs, which may be found arranged on
almost any organ.


53








ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE. 53

Hfe follows PLUTO round the stage, playing and singing to
the symphony ; PLUTO holding his ears.


PLU. I say, let's come to terms.
ORP.
PLU.


My wife!
I can't-


You ask too much; but pray desist-


I sha'n't.


ORr.







ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.


SECOND VERSE.

The minstrel swell-and in language plain,
Declares, if kept asunder
From the spouse he loves, he won't refrain ;
For he cannot move on under
The terms just named, which you must allow-
To sink all lies and knavery-
Are cheap as dirt-to suppress this row,
To submit to which is slavery.

ORP. Give me my wife, or else your life you'll find
Like Mantilini's-" One demnition grind."
PLU. Never!
ORP, Then I resume my dulcet strain,
For I can turn-and turn-and turn again.

[Turning the handle.







ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.


I'll play a waltz-
PLU. Oh, heavens! mind your stops;
I hate all dances, though the son of Ops.

[ORPHEUS plays.

Monstrum horrendum-cease thy painful twingings-
Direst machine of all informe ingens !
Behold me kneeling by your side-who wouldn't
Kneel e'en by Jupiter's. By Jove! I couldn't.
See, I turn suppliant-I-Ammon's brother!
Our. For that good turn-I'll treat you with another.

[Grinds.


V'I &


PLU. Hold! I give in-'tis useless to rebel.
ORP. It must be so. Pluto, thou reason'st well.


55







56 ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.

PLU. I'll give you up your wife-mine, too-if wanted,
Rather than be by such a nuisance haunted.
Though of concession it's a fearful stretcher-
OrP. Look sharp, or else-

[Threatens to play.
PLU. "That strain again!" I'll fetch her.

[Exit precipitately.













OuP. Come! for subduing wrong, oppression, crimes,
I wield an orgn-pow'rful as the Times,
"Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast,
And soften"-everybody knows the rest.
I question, if the rudest Goth or Vandal,
Could well resist my overtures by Handle.
Pluto! (calling) I can't stand here allnight, you know,
Settle my little claim, and let me go,







ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE. 57

Or you shall hear from me without delay-
PLU. (Running in.) None of your airs, old fellow-drop it, pray.
ORP. My wife, then-
PLU. Here she comes.

Enter EURYDICE.


ORP. My life !
EUR. My jo
ORP. My lost Eurydice!
EnR. My minstrel boy!
ORP. Pack up your things
PLU. Oh, yes-by all means pack!
EUR. And have you really come to take me back ?
ORP. (To PLUTO). She needn't stop ?
PLU. Not e'en to tea or s


;nn -


She's quite a riddle-so I give her up.
She's quite a riddle--so I give her up,


t
s~ _r


y!







58 ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.

Be off about your bus'ness-I entreat,
And pray remove it to some other street.
ORP. But we must have safe conduct-
PLU. Baneful stranger!
It's conduct such as yours in which there's danger.
ORP. (Threatening the organ). At once decide-
PLU. For forms I'm no great stickler-
I hate all rows, and that sort in particular.
Charon !


Enter CHARn N.














CHA. Your honour ?
PLU. (Pointing out Our. and Eun.) Fares for earth-the trouble
I'll pay you for-


CHA.


Back fares is always double.







ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE. 59
PLU. All right-
OnP. Come, dearest, since it seems we're free-
PLU. Stop-won't you say good night to Mrs. P. ?
N'importe-You've got your wife back, and I'm glad on 't.
(Aside) Some day I hope and trust he'll wish he hadn't.
Our. (To audience.) The pow'r of Music-as I think we've shown,
All I require-is, for its length-you'll own
That never was a story of more glee
Than this of Orpheus and Eurydice.





'F, --- G 0
iI a-













SKATES AND LIFE.


A MORAL DITTY.


l iis!f'1 )jjj 'ii''
-Lul


THE frost was hard, the sky was clear,
The ground like iron plates;
I got my tin on Saturday,
And bought a pair of skates.

I bought a pair of patent skates,
The Art of Skating too;
Which took a pretty tidy lump
From off my weekly screw.


r
i

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SKATES AND LIFE.

I took them home, and in my boots
I drill'd a pair of holes;
And tried the little spikes upon
My Gutta Percha soles.


Into my nobby walking stick,
I stuck an iron nail,
And practised walking with a chair,
By holding on the rail.






62 SKATES AND LIFE.
I sat up late to read the Art,
It wasn't very long;
And when I'd learnt it off, I vow'd
Next morn to come out strong.

I went to bed, but told them first
To call me up at six;
I dreamt all night of flying round
Upon the ice like bricks.

il tSB7

L.-..- __- -,, '..





I dreamt of joining in quadrilles,
Of cutting Figure Eight-
I dreamt I cut all others out,
I went at such a rate.

But when I came to Figure Eight
A knock came at my door;







SKATES AND IPE.

I found that Figure Six was come,
And I must sleep no more.
rT











I started up and donned my clothes,
I comb'd and brushed my hair;
I didn't stop to shave myself,
But bolted down the staii'.












I bolted down my breakfast, next-
The coffee burnt my throat-


63







64 KATES AND LIFE.

I didn't mind-I took my hat,
And button'd on my coat.

I seized my skates-unlock'd the door-
Undid the heavy chain-
Drew back the bolt-and found myself-
Where ?-Standing in tle rain !














The frost was done-and so was I-
The air no more was raw;
But all around was damp, and slush,
And mist, and fog, and thaw.

The milkman paddled through the streets,
A sack was o'er his head!
I wish'd I hadn't bought my skates,
And went upstairs to bed.








SKATES AND LIFE.


MORAL.

How often in this troubled world
Of sorrow and of sin,
Short-sighted Man will buy his skates
Just as the thaw sets in!


65
























HOW THE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRITTEN -

A TALE OF MANAGERIAL SORROWS.

(FROMi AN ELIZABETHAN CHRONICLE RECENTLY DISCOVERED.)




CHAPTER I.

THE utmost consternation reigned in the Globe Theatre.*
The company was assembled, and the stage cleared for morning
rehearsal. Business, however, was at a standstill. The stage-keeper

NOTE (for the preservation of order in the Shakspeare Society).-The writer
of the following narration is fully aware that Hamlet is supposed to have been
originally produced at the Blackfriars Theatre, instead of at the Globe, as repre-
sented in the text. He doesn't care. As it suits his purpose to make it the Globe
-and as any objections to his historical accuracy can only be founded on the merest
supposition-he takes upon himself the responsibility of saying,-" suppose it
was n't.'







HOW THE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRITTEN.


clutched his MS., and nibbled his pen in silence. The players, in.
groups of three and four, discoursed in subdued but troubled tones.
Care was depicted on every countenance.
"Beshrew me!" said a shabby, middle-aged individual, whose
sepulchral voice and overhanging brow at once proclaimed him the
"heavy man of the establishment; "but if the tragedy come not
out, it is in truth all Dickon with the management; seeing that there
is naught else can be put up, at so short a notice. And where be our
salaries then ?"
"Where, indeed?" sighed the person he addressed-Wynkyn, the
popular clown, or low comedian of the period-" seeing that since-
the drama's decline the provinces are as very naught."
The drama was declining then. It always has been, and always
will be.
Naught!" said the heavy man, bitterly-" Worse than naught.
You'd scarce credit it, but an I played not Ferrex and Porrex, down
at Oxford last week, to an audience of one and tce:pcnce, may I
never quaff sack more!"
Master Wynkyn coughed slightly, and trod on the toe of the first
old man, who formed one of the group, and who coughed also.
The insult was not lost upon the tragedian, who was prompt to
retaliate.
"But, in truth, it must needs be all up with legitimate acting, in
a time when managers insist that particular actors shall be written


67







68 BOW THE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRITTEN.

for; and authors be fain to disfigure their works with antic buf-
foonery."
This was a direct blow aimed at Master Wynkyn; and it not
only hit, but hurt him. The existence of that comedian-though
rendered agreeable by such blessings as a considerable share of the
public favour and an enormous weekly salary-was nevertheless
embittered by a besetting grievance; the High Art critics of the day
were always at him for being a buffoon. They disapproved of the
extravagances of his costume-of the enormous paper-ruffs and pre-
posterous rosettes with which he was in the habit of decorating him-
self. They disliked his practice of substituting his own words for
those of the author, and addressing facetious remarks and friendly
winks to gentlemen in the shilling places. Nor could they be found
to tolerate the frequent introduction of long comic scenes, and even
occasional comic songs, in tragic situations, for the purpose of ex-
hibiting his peculiarities. On these, and similar grounds, they never
lost an opportunity of pitching into him: and he didn't like it. In
vain he pretended not to care what they said: the effect of their con-
stant attacks on his sensitive naturewas too apparent. The hated word
"buffoon," their favourite weapon, was one which, even in the hands
of the least skilful, could always be relied on for making him wince.
He did so on the present occasion.
"An you mean me, Master Daggerwood," he said, wrathfully,
"I rede you had better say so."







HOW THE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRITTEN. 69

The tragedian muttered that he named no names, but that who the
cap fitted might e'en go don it; when the angry debate was suddenly
interrupted.
A young gentleman, clad in the height of the fashion (though the
glaring yellow satin lining of his cloak, and somewhat loud" em-
broidery of his trunks, would scarcely have found favour in the eyes
of the grave and decorous leaders of ton in those days), entered the
theatre with the easy confidence of an habitue of the coulisses.
The new-comer was Robert, Earl of Essex, a patron of the legiti-
mate drama, and a capital man to know on benefit nights!
How now, Mad Wags !" exclaimed his Lordship, slapping Dag-
gerwood on the back, and poking the low comedian playfully in the
ribs with his sheathed Toledo; goes the work bravely ? Come we
out with strength on the opening night ? Look we for store of broad
gold pieces in the house, or will there be need of much paper ?"
A general groan, supported by the whole strength of the com-
pany (assisted by a talented and numerous corps of supernumeraries),
was the only reply.
Eh ?" said the Earl, with some surprise. What's the matter ?"
Her Majesty's servants groaned again.
"Speak some of you. What's it all about ? As mad Will hath
it, Whence got ye that goose look ?'"
His Lordship had hit upon the right key for opening the locked
jaws of the present company.







70 HOW THE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRITTEN.

Mad Will !" exclaimed the heavy man, in his heaviest tones.
" May the foul fiend seize him!"
"May he endure thirst for a whole hour!" said another.
"May his wife live twenty years!" said the low comedian.
(Wynkyn was a bitter man when roused.)
"A scurvy Jack !" said one.
"A pestilent knave !" said another.
"An I have it not in my heart to cudgel him, call me sot!" said
the "leading lady of the establishment, an athletic youth of seven-
teen.
"Why, what's he been after now ?" inquired the Earl; and the
waggish young nobleman added, with a knowing look, "Surely they
be not all bad parts in his new tragedy ?"
"It isn't that, your excellency," said Master Daggerwood; though
as to my part, as it now stands, I must say, of all the rubbish- .
But no matter."
"Then, what is it ?"
"The tragedy isn't finished."
SHow much have you got ?"
"The first four acts."
Um! And when do you open ?"
"Thursday, it is purposed; but I wish they may get it."
"But there be two days yet; and Will hath a ready pen."
Master Daggerwood indulged in a sepulchral monosyllabic laugh,







HOW THE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRITTEN. 71

which he was accustomed to make tell with great effect in old Mar-
lowe's demon pieces, and, approaching his mouth to the Earl of
Essex's ear, hissed out the following words:-
S"MASTER BURBAGE HATH GIVEN WILL THE MONEY IN ADVANCE."
And considering no further explanation necessary, he strode off
in gloomy silence.
The Earl of Essex shrugged up his shoulders, and gave a pro-
longed whistle.
"Where is the governor ?" he inquired of a bystander.
Closeted with Ben."
"I'll to him straight."







72 HOW THE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRITTEN.


CHAPTER II.
.MASTER Burbage, the manager, was pacing up and down his room
in a frightful state of agitation. Heaps of applications for free
admissions, aad places on the stage, lay unopened on the table. A
substantial luncheon, sent in from the neighboring hostelry, was
untouched. There was a quart flagon on the same tray-but that
was empty.
A tall bulky individual, with a red face, and clutching a manuscript
almost as bulky as himself, had been talking to him incessantly for
half an hour. Bat he might as well have talked to the wall-the
manager's thoughts were far away. Master Ben Jonson, however,
was not a man to get easily tired of talking-especially when the
subject of discourse was himself-as was the case on this, and indeed
most occasions, when Master Ben opened his mouth.







HOW THE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRITTEN. 73

"But, I tell you, I hold in my hand a piece that will save the
theatre, an you would but read it. Why not put it up at once, and
let Will, and his vulgar and unlearned trash, go hang !"
Master Ben had said that so often within the last five minutes
that the manager was fain, at last, to pay some attention to it. He
stopped in his distracted walk, and said peevishly:-
I tell thee, Master Jonson, it may not be. There has been a
large let on the strength of Will's tragedy; and, if aught else be put
up, there will be Satan to pay. The young bloods would tear the
benches up; and we should have rare showering of apple-johns and
empty sack pottles on to the scene. And, in sober truth, thy last
comedy drew not two pence; but was decided-even by thine own
friends-to need judicious application of the pruning knife. No more,
I prithee !"
Master Ben rolled up his MS. in a huff, and was about to quit the
apartment, when the Earl of Essex entered it.
How now, lads ?" said the peer, after a hurried greeting. "These
be gloomy tidings. What's to be done ?"
I was, even now, pointing out to Master Burbage the means of
saving the theatre, and making his fortune," said Ben, with dignity;
"but he would not have it; and so-"
"Ah, Master Ben these be not times for men of art and learning,"
said the good-natured nobleman, winking at the manager. "Will,
and such like knaves, have so dosed the public with strong dishes-







74 I HOW THE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRITTEN.

murders, fights, processions, and the like-that they have little
stomach left for delicacies. But what is to be done, Burbage ?"
The manager moaned.
"Oh, come! none of that; pluck up a spirit," said the Earl.
SWhat's the piece like ?-I mean what you've got of it."
"Why, the thing is an odd conceit enough," replied the manager;
"' but of no great merit. There is a quaint part of a mad prince-
nothing in itself, but of which I might make something-if" (and
Master Burbage moaned again) the scurvy knave would but send
as the finish."
Hath he been sought after ?" inquired the Earl, after a pause.
High and low."
And he can't be found ?"
Not a sign of him."
Have you tried his own house ?"
Even there-as a last resource."
"And what said they ?"
His ill-favoured wife-Mistress Hathaway that was-said it
-was of little use seeking him there, till his money was spent."
"Of a verity, a thriftless knave!" muttered the Earl of Essex;
and then, after a few moments' reflection, he asked-
Couldn't Ben finish it?"
Ben thought he could-certainly. The manager, with equal con-
fidence, thought he couldn't.







HOW THE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRITTEN.


"It is my belief," said Burbage, "that the reason he came for his
money as soon as he had done the first four acts, was that he did n't
know how to finish it himself. He hath gotten his people into such
a coil, as would defy the devil to get them out of it. Truly, I was
distraught to pay him!"
"It will be a lesson for you in future," said the Earl.
"It will!" said the manager, with deep feeling.
The Earl of Essex appeared lost in meditation. At length his
countenance assumed an air of decision. iHe grasped the manager's
hand, and said, with fervour-
"Burbage, I'll save you yet! Give me the manuscript."
Burbage looked frightened. He feared that his illustrious patron
was going to offer his own literary services; and his faith in noble
amateurs was not great. He falteringly asked him what he pro-
posed.
"To find Will," was the reply. "And if he be alive, and within
twenty miles, I pledge you my knightly word he shall finish the piece
before sunrise-though I ransack every pot-house round Paul's, and
force him to write with my sword at his throat."
"My noble friend!" exclaimed the delighted manager, at once
relieved of his fears, and inspired with a ray of hope-" how shall I
ever repay you ?"
And he thrust the MS. eagerly into the Earl's hand.
"Not a word!" said Essex, impatiently: it shall be done.








76 HOW THE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRITTEN.

Farewell. Ben-we'll burn a cup of sack together, when we next
meet."
In a few seconds the high-spirited young nobleman was seen
galloping past the window.
"A rare ado !" muttered Ben, contemptuously; and all about
a scurvy unlearned Jack, who knows not Omega from an ox-hoof."


















CHAPTER III.

WILL," said the Earl of Essex, "get up!"
"Go hang !" was the only reply.
He's stone drunk !" said the Earl.
Mary, that is he, your worship," said a third speaker-a woman,
" and hath been these three days. Truly it is a pity to see him-a







HOW THE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRITTEN.


man of parts, as they tell me he is. But ours is a house of public
entertainment, and we couldn't refuse him liquor while his money
lasted. But they tell me it is the fault of all his calling."
"A thriftless lot!" muttered the Earl. When did he come here ?'
"Saturday night; and a rare coil we have had with him in the
house, with his treating and vagaries."
"And a rare coil have I had to find him," said Essex: twelve
hours have I been horsed, seeking him high and low; and now, to
find him in Wapping, of all places in the world-and thus! But I
must have him up somehow. Will! if you don't get up, I'll shake
the life out of you."
And he proceeded as if to put his threat in execution. The only
sign of life, however, to be shaken out of Will, was a feeble mutter-
ing with reference to sack.
"Fetch a bucket of water," said the Earl.
"Anon, your worship," said the hostess; "but hadn't we better
have him lifted on to the bench, or put something between his head
and the stones ?"
".No! leave him there to cool. Be off!'
The landlady left the room.
"A nice condition he'll be in for work, if I do succeed in waking
him!" soliloquised the Earl. But I'm determined to keep my
word. Oh, here's the water. Throw it over him."
All ?" inquired the hostess.


77







7A HOW THE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRI ITEN.

No-half to begin with."
The head of the prostrate dramatist was immediately deluged
with a plentiful cold bath.
It was not without its effect. He raised his head feebly, and
looked round with a stupid stare.
"What's all this-where am I ?" he asked, in a faltering voice.
"Where! where but in the best parlour of the Pipe and Tabor;
and a nice mess you've made it in, with your broken glass and filthy
tobacco. But see, here's a gentleman-a gentleman from Court,
Master Will."
Will raised himself on his elbow, and with some difficulty brought
the focus of his bloodshot eyes to bear upon his visitor.
Eh, Essex-is that you ? How are you ?"
"You're a nice fellow !" said the Earl.
"Yes, I know-I'm so ill!"
"Serve you right !"
"I suppose it does," said Will humbly. "I've been very drunk-
what time is it P"
Time your tragedy was finished."
Tragedy!" said Will, vacantly. "What tragedy ?"
"That which should come out to-morrow; it's now Wednesday-
and the fifth act not finished."
You don't mean to say that!" said Will, overwhelmed with re-
morse. "Oh, dear! oh, dear! What is to be done ?"







HOW THE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRITrEN.


"Do the best you can. Come, getup-there's a good fellow. That's
right-you'll stand well enough in a minute or two. Now, just dip
your head in the water again, and then sit down, and try and finish
it somehow. Burbage is in a deuce of a state. See, I've brought
the manuscript."
And he spread it temptingly on the table, and led the complying
dramatist to a chair, putting a pen in his hand.
Will gazed helplessly at the paper, and pressed his burning
forehead.
"That's right !" said Essex. "Just look it over, and you'll soon
remember all about it; and will hit upon some way of getting rid of
the characters. Let'em all fight, and kill each other-Why, Will !-
sit up. He's asleep again !"
So he was-with his head on the manuscript.
There, this won't do! Will! you're enough to drive a saint mad !"
And the Earl administered several hard thumps and pinches to the
somnolent bard.
"Don't-there's a good fellow," said Will, indistinctly. "You can't
think what a state I'm in."
"Yes, I can, and a beastly state it is. But you sha'n't go to sleep."
"Just half an hour ?" said Will, imploringly.
"No-I tell you."
"Ten minutes ?"
Well, ten minutes-not a second more. Then we'll have you up


7







80 HOW THE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRITTEN.

and washed, and borrow a clean shirt for you, and I'll read over the
play to you, and you shall- Eh P Off again !"
Will hadn't heard a word of the last speech.
I suppose I must leave him for half an hour," said the Earl,
humanely.


Thanks to the unwearying exertions of the Earl of Essex, the
tragedy did get finished, as that nobleman had proposed it should
be-somehow! and in sufficiently good time on the following day, to
enable the actors to go on the stage with it. Of course they had to
"read" their parts for the fifth act, but as an apology was made for
the author, who had been recently visited by a severe domestic
calamity- no particular disapprobation was expressed by the
audience.
Such were the circumstances under which the last act of Hamlet
was written. At least, we know of no other way in which to ac-
count for its extreme badness.
It is reported of Master Burbage, that he never paid an author in
advance again, as long as he lived.





























A CHRISTMAS CROAK.

BY OUR OWN RAVEN.


OH, rest you, merry gentlemen!
Let nothing you dismay;
But be prepared to meet the woes
That come with Christmas Day.
Look out! look out! your winter clothes,
To face the season's ills;
And muster cash and fortitude
To meet your Christmas bills.
And 'tis tidings of comfort and joy.
G







A CHRISTMAS CROAK.


Bind up, bind up your walking shoes
With list, or woollen rags;
In case of slides, by playful boys,
Prepared upon the flags.















And mind, a Respirator buy;
A good thick shawl also;
For, in the jolly Christmas time,
The Asthma's all the go.
And 'tis tidings of comfort and joy.


Pile up, pile up the Christmas log,
Or scuttle full of coals;
To melt the stuff for sticking on
Your Gutta Percha soles.


82








A CHRISTMAS CROAK.


And place the antibilious pills
Your dressing-table near,
In case you've been partaking of
Substantial Christmas cheer.
For 't is tidings of comfort and joy.-

Then drain the draughts of gruel down,
Although the throat be sore;






ail,


M-0 g-\~r~ U1 11







'8 A CHRISTMAS CROAK.

And, spite of coughs and phthisic, quaff
The mixture as before!


The nice, unwholesome Christmas breeze,
In, now, has firmly set.
And so, a jolly Christmas time
I wish you all may get.
And 'tis tidings of comfort and joy.












A POT OF PRESERVES FIOM. MOUNT PARNASSUS:

SPECIMENS OF MODERN POETRY.




REAT diversity of opinion exists as to the present condition and
prospects of English poetry. Many people maintain that the poetic
spark is extinct in the land; or, in more homely phrase, that that
sort of thing has gone out altogether." Others are of opinion, that
so far from it being all up" with poetry-the genuine article, if it
could be met with, would go down as well as ever it did.
We ourselves are far from agreeing with old gentlemen who tell
us We have no poets now-a-days (though we quite approve of the
advice with which the lament is generally followed up-namely,
that you should read Pope, sir "). It is a mistake to suppose that
the present depressed state of the verse market is attributable to a
deficiency of supply. There are plenty of manufacturers, who are
constantly producing large quantities of stuff-of a more or less last-
ing description.
Nor can it be objected that we have no schools of Poetry. Several
new,ones have been founded in our own time-conducted upon prin-
ciples of the strictest propriety-of which we entertain the highest








36 A POT OF PRESERVES FROM MOUNT PAR.ASSUS.

opinions, and to which we should be very happy to send our sons, if
they had a turn that way.
The following are a few specimens of the principal Poet-
teachers" employed on these not sufficiently appreciated establish-
Anents:-

I.-A SPECIMEN OF THE PERPETUAL MOTION, OR SOCIAL
PROGRESS, SCHOOL.












HEAD

THIS school,which, from the unbounded benevolence professed by its
disciples, might, not inaptly, be named the Charity School (an ap-
pellation which the occasional homely freedom, not to say "slang,"
of its language, renders all the more appropriate), whatever its per-
formances may be, is certainly promising. Indeed, when we consider
the cheap rate of its publications, and the unheard-of amount of social
and political happiness promised in them, it is astonishing how so
much can be done for the money.








A POT OF PRESERVES FROM MOUNT PARNASSUS. 87

The objects of its members are not always the most distinct. But
:as they are constantly urging each other to Push along," "Keep
moving," Clear the way," &c., we presume they are driving at some-
thing. The wonder is, with their restless and locomotive principles,
that they have not managed to "get on," in a literary sense, a little
better than they have done.



KEET IT UP, MY RUM'UNS.

A SONG FOR THE MILLION.

By C-s M--Y, Esa.

(From Mackay while the Sun shines," a collection of Summer Lyrics.)

I.

Push along like one o'clock,
Battle, fight, and strive, boys.
Now, then, stupid !-Who's afraid ?
Keep the game alive, boys:
Might has triumph'd over Right,
Longer than is proper-quite:
Freedom's trumpets sound to fight,-
Trumpets far from dumb'uns,-
Bid Oppression take a sight;
KEEP IT UP, MY RUMXUNS!







88 A POT OF PRESERVES FROM MOUNT PARNASSUS.


CHORUS.

Look alive!
Push and drive!
List to Freedom's summons.
That's your sort-
So you ought;
KEEP IT UP, MY RUM'UNS!

II.

That's the ticket-strike a light!
Whoop and clear the way, boys
Put your shoulders to the wheel;
That's the time of day, boys !
Drag from Wrong th' Usurper's crown ;
Do him, straight, exceeding brown,
Never mind the Despot's frown,
Though he show some glum'ns;
Hit him hard, and hold him down;
KEEP IT UP, MY RUM'UNS!

Look alive, &c.

III.

See! the hated monster moves
From his den, to fly out.







A POT OF PRESERVES FROM MOUNT PARNASSUS. 89

Throw him over!-There he goes!
With his hated eye out.
4 Driven to the right-about,

With his Ogre rabble rout-
Envy, Crime, Mistrust, and Doubt-
(Hungry fee-faw-fum'uns!)
Does his mother know he's out ?
KEEP IT UP, MY RUM'UNS!

Look alive, &c.

II.-THE SUPERANNUATED KITCHEN UTENSIL SCHOOL.














THE gifted authoress from whose works we are about to select, is the
best representative of this admired school-of which, indeed, she is
the founder.
The poetic flame, which burns with such unquestionable ardour in







90 A POT OF PRESERVES FROM MOUNT PARNASSUS.

this young lady's bosom, may be said to have been originally lighted
at the kitchen fire. She may be justly described as the Cinderella
of poetry. While her sisters of the muse have been gadding about,
taking the wildest flights, and courting admiration by the most extra-
vagant ornaments, she has been content to confine her poetical exer-
tions to the humblest sphere of domestic life; seeking no more ex-
tended area than that through which she has been accustomed to take
in the milk, and borrowing her images from the kitchen mantel-piece.
The most trivial incidents, coming within the kitchen range of
sentiment, are exalted by her genius to a level with the loftiest
stories. The most dilapidated and worthless articles of household
furniture and wearing apparel are rendered imperishable by her
magic touch. Old Arm Chairs, Old Clocks, Old Straw Hats, Old
Boots, Old Shoes, Old Rags, Bones,and Doctor's Bottles-in her hands
acquire a value far exceeding what theywould fetch at those establish-
ments where the best price is guaranteed for such articles.

CAT'S MEAT.

By E--A C--K.

I.
CAT'S meat!-cat's meat!
Well I recollect this cry.
Cat's meat!-cat's meat!
Spite of years gone by








A POT OF PRESERVES FROM MOUNT PARNASSUS. 91

The battered scales-the little cart;
It's creaking wheels, unused to grease;
The bits of meat on skewers held,
Sold at a halfpenny a piece.
I see them now!-In memory's ear
Hoar, jolting on, the tiny van;
And catch his well-remembered tones!
Friend of my youth-the Cat's Meat Man !

II.
Cat's meat !-cat's meat!
And the square and houses round-
Cat's meat!-cat's meat!
Echo back the sound:
And Pussy, with her arching back,
And Tiny, Kiddlums, Trot, and Tit,
Around me press, with eager mews,
Expectant of the juicy bit.
And to the parlour straight I run,
Or seem to run, as erst I ran,
To fetch the halfpenny, well earned
By the true-hearted Cat's Meat Man.
III.
Cat's meat!--cat's meat!
'T was a spell in times gone by;







93 A POT OF PRESERVES FROM MOUNT PARNASSUS.
Cat's meat!-cat's meat!
Now, it makes me sigh.
All, all! are gone-Puss-Tiny-Trot-
Poor Tit they sent away, long miles !
And Kiddlums perished in a brawl-
They found his body on the tiles.
With childhood's days have passed away
The battered scales-the jolting van!
But still I'm quite resolved on this-
I won't forget the Cat's Meat Man.

III.-THE ETHIOPIAN SCHOOL.

















THE following school is not quite as popular as it was a few years
ago, when its introduction created a perfect furor. It is, however,







A POT OF PRESERVES FROM MOUNT PARNASSUS, 93

considerably relished still in certain quarters; and its merits are tco
striking to allow of its total extinction.
Its chief excellences are purity of expression, and unswerving
consistency of narrative.

OLD GINGER CROW.
(AUTHOR'S NAME UNKNOWN.)
OLD Ginger Crow,
Him come from Alabama;
Old Ginger Crow,
Him downy as a hammer.
Racoon's tail am berry long,
Monkey's nose am blue;
Oh! M issy Dinah-
Chickabiddy Coo!

CHORUS.
Walk Ginger Crow,
Jenny, Oh my !
Old Johnny Walker,
Hit him in the eye.

Dinah's legs am like de mop;
Her feet am like de shovel;
All her lily picaninnies,
Ugly as de debble.







94 A POT OF PRESERVES FROM MOUNT PARNASSUS.

Oh! if I was in Old Kentuck,
As sure as eggs am eggs,
I'd punch dat sarsy nigger Sam,
And pull him by de legs.

Walk Ginger Crow, &c.

Old Ginger Crow was taken ill-
It wasn't long ago-
Dem say it was de toothache
Attack him in de toe.
And now de poor old boy am dead,
And in his grave am laying;
And so de niggers can't insult him
Any more, by saying--

Walk Ginger Crow,
Jenny, Oh my!
Old Johnny Walker,
Hit him in de eye!




OUR concluding specimen is of a school whose peculiarities baffle all
attempts at definition, and whose representation is confined at present
to its founder-who is himself confined at present (and likely to be
for some time) in the Hanwell Lunatic Asylum.




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