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 ou. 
 
 mjt mtov'» #liUtiiux in a^arbo : 
 
 t30KTAINIXG AT X THi- 
 
 WHIM, FROLIC, AND ECx'^KNTK' 
 
 IN It IS 
 
 «v 
 
 . ''I'.: '■•.■-■ L-: Of 
 LIKKAVIiK A STORE OV M'lT FROM HIS 
 
 M 
 
 Wit ■ VNY MUSICAL TREATS ATTACHED TO THE SAME. 
 HIS HIOHLY APPROVED 
 
 -iAND THE S&CEi^SAT.Y SONGS TO TH3' SAVIF,. 
 
 A (IHOICI. .10Li.ECTA0N 01-' 
 
 ATTRIBUTED TO 
 
 FlUNTEI) BY AND FOR HODGSON & CO. 
 
 No. 10, NEWGATE-STREET. 
 
 ^. : M 
 
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 /mAi> 111111,1 t/h- ,;i.', I'i't.rim i Ol/'stoi 
 
MATHEWS 
 
 THEATRICAL BUDGET ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 €f)t ^ctor^s JWuItum in ^atbo^ 
 
 CONTAINING ALL THE 
 
 WHIM, FROLIC, AND ECCENTRICITY 
 
 IX HIS 
 
 MAIZ. COACH ABVSNTUHES^ 
 
 WITH 
 
 POPULAR INTRODUCTORY SONGS, 
 
 LIKEWISE A STORE OF WIT FROM HIS 
 
 TRIP TO PARXS, 
 
 ASD MANY MUSICAL TREATS ATTACHED TO THE SAME. 
 HIS HIGHLY APPROVED 
 
 Ctab^l0 in ^ir, on Cl^artft, anU on seiatetp 
 
 WITH A NUMBER OF APPROPRIATE SONGS. 
 
 ALSO 
 
 A CHOICE COLLECTION OF 
 
 HUMOROUS SONGS, 
 
 ATTRIBUTED TO 
 
 MB.. CBiLB.I.SS MATBE-WS. 
 
 iiotttron : 
 
 PRINTED BY AND FOR HODGSON & CO, 
 
 No. 10, NEWGATE-STREET. 
 
f 
 
MATHEWs' 
 
 THEATRICAL BUDGET ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 €f)t actor^g JWultum in ilarbo^ 
 
 CONTAINING ALL THE 
 
 WHIM, FROLIC, AND ECCENTRICITY 
 
 IN HIS 
 
 MAii. coach: abventures, 
 
 WITH 
 
 POPULAR INTRODUCTORY SONGS, 
 
 LIKEWISE A STORE OF WIT FROM HIS 
 
 TRIP TO PARXS, 
 
 AND MANY MUSICAL TREATS ATTACHED TO THE SAME. 
 HIS HIGHLY APPROVED 
 
 Crab^ls in ^ir, on ^artt>> anti on ^jBattv^ 
 
 WITH A NUMBER OF APPROPRIATE SONGS. 
 
 ALSO 
 
 A CHOICE COLLECTION OF 
 
 HUIMEOROUS SONGS, 
 
 ATTRIBnTED TO 
 
 MZLb CBAItliSS MATHS-WS. 
 
 iiotttroii : 
 
 PRINTED BY AND FOR HODGSON ^ CO, 
 
 No. 10, NEWGATE-STREET. 
 
MAIL COACH ADVENTURES. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The popularity which the above production has 
 attained throughout the three kingdoms makes it 
 almost unnecessary to comment thereon, performed 
 by Mr. Mathews in most of the country towns of 
 England, and upon every occasion receiving the 
 most rapturous applause. The Publisher of the 
 present Work has collected such matter as will be 
 found amusing in the closet as well as on the stage 
 and where the materials of our modern Aristophanes 
 will be found encompassed in the Siieets of one 
 Pocket Volume. If public admiration, if public 
 attention, and if public applause has done so much 
 for Mr. Mathews, the conductor of the present se- 
 lection imagines he may look at least for a portion 
 of attention while endeavouring to gratify the 
 curiosity of those who may not have had an oppor- 
 tunity of witnessing the wonderful and prepossessing 
 exertions of a man, whose talent is acknowledged 
 
 A 2 
 
 »l9^ 
 
IV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 to be without its equal; and, at the same time, to 
 give a fair chance to those who may delight in the 
 perusal of Adventures arranged, so as to bind us 
 for ever to the individual; whose mind, whose 
 powers, and whose assiduity, make him at once the 
 Object of Attraction and the Magnet of Fashion. 
 
 It is well known that Mr. Mathews for a long 
 time (after his introduction from the country) held 
 a most respectable situation in some of our Theatres 
 Royal, much esteemed by private friends, and 
 highly valued as a public performer. 
 
 During the summer recess, he has generally 
 travelled through some parts of England, giving an 
 Entertainment in some respects similar to Bannis- 
 ter's Budget — but latterly, entitled, " Mail Coach 
 Adventures,^' and from experience, Mr. Mathews 
 became wiser, and found that an audience could 
 receive his exertions for one night with as much 
 satisfaction as if he had been a whole company 
 still he kept to the country, and never entertained 
 the idea of trying his fortune in that way with 
 a London Audience. 
 
 But Mr. Arnold, of the Theatre Royal, English 
 Opera, one day put on his spectacles and began to 
 consider why the Theatres Royal should attempt to 
 keep open against his interest — and more particu- 
 larly why his property should thus be remaining 
 
INTRODUCTION. V 
 
 idle. " I'll have Mathews," says he *' Mathews 
 
 shall be my Lecturer/' says Arnold. '* Mathews 
 shall he my George Alexander Stevens," whereupon 
 he saw Mathews — but Mathews was diffident. — 
 *' Will you be my Lecturer?" says Arnold. " No, 
 no, I cannot upon [my soul,'^ says Mathews: "I 
 cannot indeed! — I am too tall for the part; this 
 
 crooked mouth wont do ; and then I'm so d d 
 
 ugly — I'm more fit for a Mail Coachman than any 
 thing of the sort." 
 
 "Happy thought!" a Mail Coachman was the 
 idea! — "You shall be my Mail Coachman Ma- 
 thews," exclaimed Arnold, " and you shall recount 
 your Adventures." — Uppn which the treaty was 
 signed. Mathews mounted the box, and drove in 
 fine style for Forty Nights at the above Theatre ; 
 where every seat was taken long before he com- 
 menced his business of pleasure. 
 
 That one man should have it in his power to 
 please for Forty Nights successively is almost in- 
 credible. Still it is no more strange than true: 
 one Scene alone embellished his performance, with 
 a Piano and a Gentleman to accompany his Songs, 
 a table with lights, and a chair with a few articles 
 of apparel, occasinally to dress, or show the pecu- 
 liarities of character attached to certain individuals 
 brought into public notice. 
 
VI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 In fact to praise Mr. Mathews would be to de- 
 ceive those who have not seen him ; and while we 
 advise the Public not to lose sight of Mr. Mathews, 
 we trust the compilation which he gives effect to 
 will be found acceptable to all the admirers of ge- 
 nuine Talent. 
 
• ■» • • -1 
 
 THE 
 
 MAIL COACH ADVENTURES. 
 
 « I ' ♦ * 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, 
 
 Appearing before you in this novel way, it will naturally be 
 expected that I should give some explanation of the mo- 
 tive that has induced me to make so bold an attempt as 
 that of offering you a whole evening's entertainment by my 
 own individual exertions. — It is simply this : public appro- 
 bation has long since flattered me into the belief that I have 
 some pretensions to the title of a Comic Actor. The vanity 
 of mankind is easily roused by the encouragement of popu- 
 lar applause : and I am not aware, that actors, though pro- 
 verbially modest, are more exempt from vanity than pa- 
 triots and statesmen. Fully gratified in this particular, it 
 has therefore been my highest ambition to appear before you 
 in the legitimate shape of a regular comedian. Circum- 
 stances, however, which I could neither control nor account 
 for, have deprived me of the opportunity of so doing : in 
 the mean time I have frequently been'.urged by my friends 
 to attempt an entertainment by myself, and reminded with 
 what success the celebrated Dibdin had, during several 
 winters, kept audiences together by his single exertions ; 
 still I preferred the exercise of my profession as a member 
 of the National Theatre ; and could I have been indulged 
 in the first wish of my heart, that of appearing frequently 
 before you in characters of legitimate Comedy, in that 
 capacity I should probably have remained to the end of my 
 days, without ever attempting to exhibit that little knack 
 
8 tHEAtRiCAL BUDGET. 
 
 for 'listicct niimiclLyr tp r/iiich I s^ncp ha.7e unfortunately 
 been* exMii'sively 'doolned.' la tno leCtfer part of my last 
 Winter's Engagements, it became evident to me, that Jail 
 hopes of attaining my favourite object was at an end. I 
 scarcely ever had the opportunity of appearing before you 
 but in a character solely devoted to the peculiarities of mi- 
 mickry; the press, perhaps unconsciously, took its tone 
 from the managers, and a part of it (I do not say the 
 whole, for I should be ungrateful if L did) but a part fell 
 into the habit of designating me a mere mimic and no actor ; 
 it will, however, be observed, that the best authorities have 
 characterized the drama by the title of the mimic art, and I 
 humbly conceive, that without mimickry, there can be no 
 acting, it is the very essence of personation ; and he who 
 cannot personate a character imagined by an author, can 
 never be an actor. If this argument which I have pre- 
 sumed to advance be admitted, it is surely a strange de- 
 duction, that a man ceases to be an actor because he per- 
 sonates half a dozen characters in a drama instead of one ; 
 be this as it may, such has been the opinion given in my 
 particular case. The public naturally supposed the peculi- 
 arities of my cast of characters to be my own taste, I 
 therefore hope I shall be excused for taking this, my only 
 opportunity of avowing my firm attachment to that legiti- 
 mate drama of the country, which I devoutly hope may one 
 day be restored to us. I trust it is clearly understood, that 
 I have spoken not of motives, but of effects ; 1 have not the 
 slightest disposition to attribute my treatment to any illibe- 
 ral feeling, it was probably accidental, but the facts are 
 undeniable, and the results to me the same as if they had 
 been premeditated. During the last season, which con- 
 sisted of 239 Nights, I had only the opportunity of appear- 
 ing 46, and not once in a character in a comedy ; it is true 
 that 12 Nights of those 46 I rode one of the finest horses 
 the stud of the Theatre could afford, but even this, though 
 1 certainly was exalted by it, did not satisfy my ambition. 
 During the rest of the time, to make use of a Tlieatrical 
 term, I was laid upon the shelf; but I was too fond of my 
 profession and public applause to lie quietly there : I grew 
 restless and fidgety, and like a good soldier, who feels he 
 has not yet half done his duty, whenever I peeped from my 
 uneasy quarters, and saw a muster of the Dramatic Corps, 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 9 
 
 " my soul was in arms and eager for the fray," in which I 
 might prove my zeal and my devotion in your service, but 
 this was not permitted. At length I suspected my services 
 were not required at all, and therefore, like a well bred 
 dog, who walks quietly down stairs when he sees violent 
 preparations on foot for kicking him into the street, I fol- 
 lowed the example of my betters, and resigned rather than 
 run the risk of staying to be turned out. I retired ; it was 
 my own act, I complain of no one, I only assert my right 
 to make use of whatever talent may have been bestov/ed on 
 me to the best advantage to myself; for, if I can only be al- 
 lowed to exhibit those talents in a National Theatre, which 
 I once wished to be confined to the amusement of my private 
 friends, if I cannot be allowed my chance, like other actors, 
 in the usual way ; if the regular practitioners will drive me 
 to quackery, why I will sell my medicines on my own 
 account, and they shall call me mountebank if they like, 
 but if such I am, like one, I will have a stage to myself. 
 My vanity, if they please, has led me to make the attempt ; 
 it is a bold one, but the encouragement is in your hands. 
 If I can stand single-handed against the host of superior 
 entertainment by which I am surrounded, it will be a 
 feather in my cap ; it is in your power to place the feather 
 there ; and if it is once planted, be assured it shall be worn 
 gratefully as well as triumphantly. I feel, however, consi- 
 derable anxiety for the result, and unaffectedly acknow- 
 ledge my fearful diffidence of my own abilities, the diffi- 
 culties of my task are so numerous and obvious, that were 
 I a stranger in the land, I should abandon it with despair ; 
 but when I look around me and reflect on the numerous in- 
 stances of kindness I have received, gratitude for the past 
 favours, and zeal to merit new ones, conspire to banish 
 those apprehensions which an undertaking like mine had so 
 naturally excited, and I enter on my task without more 
 apology or further adding to a preface, which I fear has 
 already too long encroached upon your patience. 
 
 After resigning, I resolved to travel, and in order to 
 make my journey as profitable as possible, it was my de- 
 termination to make such observations as might ultimately 
 amuse my friends, and let them know, that in making a 
 Tour through my native country, it was not only for my 
 own personal gratification, but under the more pleasing 
 
10 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 idea of gaining a small tribute of applause from tlic friends 
 who have upon the present occasion thought proper to sur- 
 round me. 
 
 Every thing being prepared 3 such as packing up a few 
 necessary articles in my trunk, and supplying myself with 
 a necessary portion of the most valuable of all valu- 
 ables, (money,) I called a hackney coach, and told the 
 coachman to drive me to the White-horse, Piccadilly. 
 
 My wife of course was very son-y to lose so good a bus- 
 band, and my children show'd much sorrow, as papa 
 popp'd into the conveyance which was prepared for his 
 reception. 
 
 We had not passed through the first street, when the 
 ceachman was hailed by a young gentleman, who enquired 
 if he could drive him to Piccadilly as it was raining, and 
 there was not a coach on the stand. — I assented, and the 
 gentleman was admitted, but I found him so confoundedly 
 modest, that he was full ten minutes before he opened his 
 mouth to speak to me. 
 
 Being nuturally of a talkative disposition, I addressed 
 him thus — " Pray, sir, is there any thing the matter with 
 you? — Are you ill, sir?^It is but a poor compliment to 
 pay you, sir, but really you must have something upon 
 your mind, or you are very, very ill." 
 
 He stared at me with a certain degree of bashful asto- 
 nithment and thus proceeded : — 
 
 " I labour under a species of distress, which I fear will 
 at length drive me utterly from that society, in which 1 am 
 most ambitious to appear : but I will give you a short 
 sketch of my origin and present situation, by which you 
 will be enabled to judge of my difficulties. 
 
 " My father was a farmer of no great property, and with 
 no other learning than what he had acquired at a charity 
 shool ; but my mother being dead, and I an only child, he de- 
 termined to give me that advantage, which he fancied]would 
 have made him happy ; viz. a learned education. — I was 
 sent to a country grammar school, and from thence to the 
 University, with a view of qualifying for holy orders. 
 Here, having but small allowance from my father, and 
 being naturally of a timid and bashful disposition, I had no 
 opportunity of rubbing off that native awkwardness, which 
 is the fatal cause of all my unhappiness, and which I now 
 begin to fear can never be amended. 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 11 
 
 " You must know tliat in my person I am tall and thin, 
 with a fair complexion, and light flaxen liair ; but of such 
 extreme susceptibility of shame, that, on the smallest sub- 
 ject of cJonfusion, my blood all rushes into my cheeks, and 
 I appear a perfect full-blown rose. The consciousness of 
 this unhappy failing made me avoid society, and I.became 
 enamoured of a college life ; particularly when I reflected, 
 that the uncouth manners of my father's family were little 
 calculated to improve my outward conduct ; I therefore 
 had resolved on living at the University, and taking pupils, 
 when two unexpected events greatly altered the posture of 
 my affairs iviz. my father's death and the arrival of an uncle 
 from the Indies. 
 
 " This uncle I had very rarely heard my father mention, 
 and it was generally believed that he was long since dead, 
 when he arrived in England only a week too late to close 
 his brother's eyes. I am ashamed to confess, what I be- 
 lieve has been often experienced by those, whose education 
 has been better than their parents, that my poor father's ig- 
 norance, and vulgar language, had often made me blush to 
 think I was his son ; and at his death I was not inconso- 
 lable for the loss of that, which I was not unfrequently 
 ashamed to own. ♦My vic\e was but little affected, for he 
 had been separated from nis brother more than thirty years, 
 and in that time he had acquired a fortune which he used 
 to brag would make a nabob happy ; in short, he had 
 brought over with him the enormous sum of thirty thou- 
 sand pounds, and upon this he built his hopes of never-end- 
 ing happiness. 
 
 " While he was planning schemes of greatness and de- 
 light, whether the change of climate might affect him, or 
 what other cause I know not, but he was snatched from all 
 his dreams of joy by a short illness, of which he died, leav- 
 ing me heir to all his property. And now, sir, behold me, 
 at the age of twenty -five, well stocked with Latin, Greek, 
 and Mathematics, possessed of an aruple fortune, but so 
 awkward and unversed in every gentleman-like accomplish- 
 ment, that I am pointed at by all who see me, as the 
 wealthy leariied clown. %, 
 
 " I have lately purchased an estate in the country, which 
 abounds in (what is called) a fashionable neighbourhood, 
 and when you reflect on ray prentage and uncouth manner^ 
 
12 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 you will hardly think how much my company is courted by 
 the surrounding families, especially by those who have 
 marriageable daughters : from these gentlemen I have re- 
 ceived familiar calls, and the most pressing invitations, and, 
 though I wished to accept their offered friendship, I have 
 repeatedly excused myself under the pretence of not being 
 quite settled ; for the truth is, that when I have rode or 
 walked, with full intention to return their several visits, my 
 heart has failed me as I approached their gates, and I hava 
 frequently returned homewards, resolving to try again to- 
 morrow. 
 
 " However, I at length determined to conquer my timi- 
 dity, and three days ago, accepted of an invitation to dine 
 this day with one, whose open easy manner left me no 
 room to doubt of a cordial welcome. Sir Thomas 
 Friendly, who lives about two miles distant, is a baronet, 
 with about two thousand pounds a-year, estate joiningto that 
 I purchased ; he has two sons, and five daughters, all grown 
 up, and living with their mother and a maiden sister of Sir 
 Thomas's, at Friendly Hall, dependant on their father. 
 Conscious of my unpolished gait, I have for some time past 
 taken private lessons of a professor, who teaches " grown 
 gentlemen to dance ;" and though I at first found wondrous 
 difficulty in the art he taught, my knowledge of the mathe- 
 matics was of prodigious use, in teaching me the equili- 
 brium of my body, and the due adjustment of the centre of 
 gravity to the five positions. Having now acquired the art 
 of walking without tottering, and learned to make a bow, I 
 boldly ventured to obey the Baronet's invitation to a family 
 dinner, not doubting but my new acquirements would en- 
 able me to see the ladies with tolerable intrepidity ; but 
 alas ! how vain are all the hopes of theory, when unsup- 
 ported by habitual practice. As I approached the house, a 
 dinner bell alarmed my fears, lest 1 had spoiled the dinner 
 by want of punctuality : impressed with this idea, I blushed 
 the deepest crimson, as my name was repeatedly announ- 
 ced by the several livery servants, who ushered me into the 
 library, hardly knowing what or whom I was. At my first 
 entrance, I summoned all my fortitude, and made my new- 
 learned bow to Lady Friendly ; but unfortunately in bring- 
 ing my left foot to the third position, I trod upon the gouty 
 toe of poor Sir Thomas, who had followed close to my heels, 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 13 
 
 to be the Nomenclator of the family. The confusion this 
 occasioned in 7iie is hardly to be conceived, since none but 
 bashful men can judge of my distress, and of that descrip- 
 tion, the number 1 believe is very small. The Baronet's 
 politeness by degrees dissipated my concern, and I was 
 astonished to see how far good breeding could enable him 
 to support his feelings, and to appear with perfect ease, 
 after so painful an accident. 
 
 The cheerfulness of her ladyship, and the familiar chat 
 of the young ladies, insensibly led me to throw off my re- 
 serve and sheepishness, till at length I ventured to join in 
 conversation, and even to start fresh subjects. The library 
 being richly furnished with books in elegant bindings, I 
 conceived Sir Thomas to be a man of literature, and ven- 
 tured to give my opinion concerning the several editions of 
 the Greek classics, in which the Baronet's opininion ex- 
 actly coincided with my own. To this subject I was led, 
 by observing an edition of Xenophon, in sixteen volumes, 
 which (as I had never before heard of such a thing) 
 greatly excited my curiosity, and 1 rose up to examine what 
 it could be : Sir Thomas saw what I was about, and I 
 suppose willing to save me trouble, rose to take down 
 the book, which made me more eager to prevent him, and, 
 hastily laying my hand on the first volume, I pulled it for- 
 cibly ; but^ lo ! instead of books, a board, which by leather 
 and gilding had been made to look like sixteen volunaes, 
 came tumbling down, and unluckily pitched upon a Wedg- 
 wood ink-stand on the table under it. In vain did Sir 
 Thomas assure me there was no harm ; I saw the ink 
 streaming from an inlaid table on the Turkey carpet, and, 
 scarce knowing what I did, attempted to stop it progress 
 with my cambric handkerchief. In the height of this con- 
 fusion, we were informed that dinner was served up, and 
 I with joy perceived that the bell, which at first had so 
 alarmed my fears, was only the half-hour dinner-bell. 
 
 " In walking through the hall and space of apartments to 
 the dining room, I had time to collect my scattered senses, 
 and was desired to take my seat betwixt Lady Friendly and 
 her eldest daughter at the table. Since the fall of the 
 wooden Xenophon, my face has been continually burning 
 like a firebrand, and I was just beginning to recover my- 
 self, and to feel comfortably cool, when an unlooked-for 
 
14 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 accident rekindled all my heat and blushes. Having set 
 my plate of soup too near the edge of the table, in bow- 
 ing to Miss Dinah, who politely complimented the pattern 
 of my waistcoat, I tumbled the whole scalding contents 
 into my lap. In spite of an immediate supply of napkins 
 to wipe the surface of my clothes, my black silk breeches 
 were not stout enough to save me from the painful effects 
 of this sudden fomentation, and for some minutes my legs 
 and thighs seemed stewing iu a boiling cauldron ; but re- 
 collecting how Sir Thomas had disguised his torture when 
 I trod upon his toe, I firmly bore my pain in silence, and 
 sat with my lower extremities parboiled, amidst the stifled 
 giggling of the ladies and the servants. 
 
 " I will not relate the several blunders which I made 
 during the first course, or the distress occasioned by my 
 being desired to carve a fowl, or help to various dishes 
 that stood near me, spilling a sauce-boat, and knocking 
 down a salt-cellar ; rather let me hasten to the second ' 
 course, "where fresh disasters overwhelmed me quite. 
 
 " I had a piece of rich sweet pudding on my fork, when 
 Miss Louisa Friendly begged to trouble me for a pigeon 
 that stood near me. In my haste, scarcely knowing what 
 I did, I whipped the pudding into my mouth, hot as a burn- 
 ing coal ; it was impossible to conceal my agony^my eyes 
 were starting from their sockets. At last, in spite of shame 
 and resolution, I was obliged to drop the cause of torment 
 on my plate. Sir Thomas and all the ladies compassionated 
 my misfortune, and each advised a different application ; 
 one recommended oil, another water, but all agreed that 
 wine was best for drawing out fire ; and a glass of sherry 
 was brought me from the side-board, which I snatched up 
 with eagerness; but, oh! how shall I tell the sequel"? 
 whether the butler by accident mistook, or purposely de- 
 signed, to drive me mad, he gave me the strongest brandy, 
 with which I filled my mouth, already flayed and blister- 
 ed. Totally unused to ardent spirits, with my tongue, 
 throat, and palate, as raw as beef, what could I do ? I 
 could not swallow, and, clapping my hands upon my 
 mouth, the cursed liquor squirted through ray nose and 
 fingers like a fountain, over all the dishes ; and I, crushed 
 by bursts of laughter from all quarters. In vain did Sir 
 Thomas reprimand the servants, and Lady Friendly chide 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 15 
 
 her daughters ; for the measure of my shame and their di- 
 version was not yet complete- To relieve me from the in- 
 tolerable state of perspiration, which this accident had 
 caused, without considering what I did, I wiped my face 
 with that ill-fated handkerchief, which was still wet from 
 the consequences of the fall of Xenophon, and covered all 
 my features with streaks of ink in every direction. The 
 baronet himself could not support this shock, but joined his 
 lady in the general laugh ; while I sprung from the table in 
 despair, rushed out of the house, and ran home in an 
 agony of confusion and disgrace, which the most poignant 
 sense of guilt could have excited. 
 
 Thus, without having deviated from the path of moral 
 rectitude, I am suffering torments like a " goblin damned." 
 The lower half of me has been almost boiled, my tongue 
 and mouth grilled, and I bear the mark of Cain upon my 
 forehead ; yet these are but trifling considerations, to the 
 everlasting shame which I must feel, whenever this ad- 
 venture shall be mentioned. Perhaps, by your assistance, 
 when my neighbours know how much I feel on the occasion, 
 they will spare a bashful mem, and (as I am just informed 
 my poultice is ready) I trust you will excuse the haste in 
 which I retire." 
 
 The conclusion of this story brought us to the White 
 Horse Cellar, where lords, ladies, porters, coachmen, 
 orange-boys, oyster-wenches, mechanics, soldiers, sailors, 
 crooked, tall, bandy, and all were assembled ; among news- 
 men, pickpockets, and pamphlet-hawkers ; some for gain, 
 and some for travelling ; while others roll'd up in great 
 coats, and warm neckcloths, anticipated the satisfaction of 
 once more reaching their native homes ; or seeing such 
 sights out of the great metropolis which they had never 
 seen in it. 
 
 But, as my motive is to amuse my friends by a recital of 
 my Mail coach Adventures, I will endeavour to commence 
 with a Song, in which the commencement of my journey 
 will be properly explained : — 
 
16 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 THE MAIL COACH. 
 
 Tune.— The Conntry Club. 
 
 Come listen to my story : 
 Now seated in my glory, 
 
 We make no longer stay ; 
 A bottle of good sherry 
 Has made us all quite merry. 
 
 Let Momus rule the day : 
 We hearty all and well are. 
 Drive to the White Horse Cellar, 
 
 Get a snack before we go — 
 Bring me a leg of mutton, 
 I'm as hungry as a glutton — 
 
 Some gravy soup — hollo ! 
 
 (^Spoken in different voices.) — Why, waiter! — Coming, 
 sir. — Where is my gravy soup ? — Just took off the grid- 
 iron. — Make haste, I shall lose my place. — I hope your 
 honour will remember the poor ostler. — Are the beef-steaks 
 ready 1 — No, but your chops are. — What a concourse of 
 people are going in these coaches! — All fast behind. Hip J 
 (Imitates the sound of the guard's horn.) 
 
 Then 'tis away we rattle, 
 Joliy dogs and stylish cattle, 
 Crack whip, and dash away. 
 
 What a cavalcade of coaches 
 On every side approaches ! 
 
 What work for man and beast ! 
 We must have a little drop, sir — 
 Then we'll gallop till we stop, sir — 
 
 And afterwards make haste. 
 I mount — the whip I crack now. 
 All bustle — what a pack now 
 
 On every side approach ! . 
 Now making sad grimaces, 
 All for the want of places. 
 
 They cry— I've lost the coach- 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 17 
 
 (Spoken in various voices.) — How's this ? — Irj sure my 
 name was booked. — No such thing, ma'am. — A lady and a 
 parrot in a cage. — That fare can't go inside, one parrot's 
 enough at a time. — No room for two ladies ? — None at all 
 for females ; this is a mail coach. — Set me down at the 
 butcher's shop ; I should not like to be seen getting out of 
 a coach. — Tie a handkerchief round your neck, Billy ; 
 you'll catch cold. — Yes; good bye, grandpappa ; give my 
 love to grandmamma. — Hip ! (Imitates the horn.) 
 
 Then 'tis away we rattle. 
 Jolly dogs and stylish cattle. 
 Crack whip, and dash away. 
 
 Four-in hand from Piccadilly, 
 Snugly seated in the dilly, 
 Away we scamper all : 
 
 What merry wags and railers, 
 What jolly dogs and sailors. 
 
 Begin to sing and bawl. 
 From every place we start, sir. 
 Some company depart, sir. 
 
 And others come, no doubt ; 
 For plenty there's of room, now. 
 If they will only come now, 
 
 Four inside and one out. 
 
 (Spoken in different voices.) — Are my boxes all safe ? — 
 You have put my trunk in a wrong coach. — Never fear, 
 ma'am, we shall overtake it. — What a figure you cut in 
 that Welch wig? — Hold your tongue, sirrah, you've woke 
 me out of a comfortable nap. — Keep the windows shut ; 
 I have got a cold, and a stiff neck — my little girl isn't 
 well — Keep your feet in ; you've got your leg between 
 mine. — I don't mind it, if the gentleman don't. — Hip ! 
 (Imitates the horn.) 
 
 Then 'tis av/ay we rattle, 
 Jolly dogs and stylish cattle 
 Crack whip, and dash away. 
 
18 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 We rattled along in good style, while the whip crackM 
 and the merry horn sounded ; and what with the novelty of 
 the surrounding scenery, and the few stories we could col- 
 lect among the passengers, time seemed to pass pretty 
 merrily. 
 
 Among the rest a French gentleman, anxious to enter 
 into conversation with a London lady, broke in upon a 
 comfortable chit-chat, in which she was engaged with a fat 
 gentleman, who sat in the opposite comer of the coach. 
 
 "Madam," says the frenchman, "Do you like the 
 Belle Lettres ?" 
 
 The lady was too attentively engaged, to heed what fell 
 from mounsieur, and still kept on chit-chat with the old 
 gentleman, who seemed to think it an encroachment on the 
 part of a foreigner thus to interrupt them. But perseve- 
 rance does every thing, ,and the Parisian gained his point 
 by addressing the lady loudly in the following manner: — 
 
 " Pray, madam, may I take de liberty to repeat what I 
 ask you before ?" — "Certainly, sir." "Pray, madam, do 
 you like de Belle Lettres ?" — " Oh ! sir, I perfectly under- 
 stand you now ; do you know I've been thinking sometime, 
 and at last I've found out what you mean ; I like them, 
 particularly on Valentine's Day." The old gentleman, who 
 had not opened his mouth for some time, could no longer 
 contain himself at this misconception ; he said, and not in 
 the civilist tone in the world, " Pray, madam, what may 
 you understand by the Belles Lettres?" — " Oh ! sir, its 
 very simple to understand : every day in London the post- 
 man goes round with a bell and a bag, you give him a 
 penny and those are called the Bell Lettres!" The French- 
 man, finding however that the old gentleman had a tongue, 
 was determined to address his conversation entirely to him : 
 he said, sare, allow me to congratulate you to found your 
 tongue ; I am very glad you have break de ice ; if you 
 please, sir, ve'll talk a little bit." The conversasion now- 
 turned on Theatricals ; he was a great admirer of what is 
 called the old school of acting, and would scarce allow 
 merit to any living performer ; but what seemed cliiefly to 
 annoy him was the enormous size of our present winter 
 Theatres, which he said (and with some good sense), were 
 the entire ruin and utter destruction of all good and chaste 
 acting. He was also a great admirer of the late celebrated 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. J9 
 
 Mr. Garrick ; and I found out, among other peculiarities, 
 he had a very great aversion to punning, or any thing like 
 a pun ; — I was therefore mischievous enough to interrupt 
 him occasionally with a pun, in order to divert the rest of 
 the company. He said, " I recollect the immortal Gar- 
 rick ; his figure was small, but his countenance highly ex- 
 pressive and intelligent ; his voice, particularly in humble 
 tones and whispers, capable of harrowing up the soul? 
 and he had an eye, (oh ! what an eye that was) to make 
 use of a very far fetch'd expression that I once heard a 
 friend of mine say, he had an eye that would look through 
 a deal board; "then, sir," said I, " that must have been a 
 gimblet eye." " That's a pun, sir ; and I must premise to 
 you, sir, that I have a most inveterate antipathy to any 
 thing like a pun." I promised to pun-ish him no more, and 
 he proceeded: — Sir, I beg to say, that the subject is a seri- 
 ous one, inasmuch as it concerns the national taste. I was 
 speaking of the qualifications of that great actor ; to put an 
 extreme case, if he could be permitted to appear once more 
 on our present enormous stage, whatpart could he possibly 
 assume. — " Why^ sir," said I, " I know of no part a dead 
 actor, could possibly assume but Posthumous,''^ " That's 
 another pun, sir ; and allow me, sir, to say, a vile one. I 
 agree with Dr. Johnson, that a man who would make a 
 pun, would pick a pocket if he dare." — " I must beg of you 
 to pay some little attention, or I cannot proceed." " Sir," 
 said I, " I'll pay you as little attention as possible. — " That, 
 sir, smacks of another ; but, however, never mind, we'll go 
 on. — Why, sir, as I was saying, his figure would certainly 
 be lost, and as to his eye it must be the ox eye of Homer's 
 Juno, or he need have none at all ; and as to his humble 
 tones and whispers, they would be employed exclusively 
 for the benefit of the orchestra ; and what, sir, 
 is the cause of this unnatural distension of the stage's 
 mouth? Thalia is obliged to squall, Melpomone to bawl, 
 and Terpsichore to sprawl upon the stage, to the entire con- 
 fusion and utter destruction of the regular drama ; and, 
 sir, if this unnatural taste continues, I should not be sur- 
 prised at some distant period, if some country manager was 
 to hire Salisbury Plain for a Theatre, and subpoena Gog 
 and Magog from Guildhall to enact the parts of RoUa and 
 Pizarro, — The lisping lady seemed quite delighted to find a 
 
20 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 subject started which «he thought herself perfectly avfait 
 in ; she said, " I am glad to find you talk about playhouses, 
 for that is my favourite pursuit. I hav'n't been lately to 
 Drury Lane or Covent Garden, and therefore I hav'ntseen 
 either of those ladies you mentioned ; I suppose they are 
 new ones, who are they — JMrs. Pommine 1 I don't know 
 her. I like tragedy tho' : I go to Sadler's Wells uery often 
 because I live contageous to it." She now inundated the 
 poor old gentleman's ears with a bundle of the most ridi- 
 culous truisms which were not at all worth repeating, only 
 as they related to what the old gentleman said in return. 
 
 Lady I'm icery fond of Tragedys. 
 
 Gent. Are you, madam. 
 
 Lady. They are wery dull tho' 
 
 Geiit. Modern ones I grant you, madam. 
 
 Lady. I mean with respect to the catastropheys of them ; 
 I like Comedies. 
 
 Gent. Do you, ma'am. 
 
 Lady. Because they make one laugh. 
 
 Gent. Doubtless, madam, that is their intent. 
 
 Lady. Do you like Pantominesl 
 
 Gent No, madam. 
 
 Lady. I dont ike them, because there's no talking in 
 them, I like talking. 
 
 Gent. I perceive it, madam. 
 
 Lady. Its a very fine day. 
 
 Gent. Very true, madam. 
 
 Lady. The sun shines. 
 
 Gent. Yes, madam. 
 
 Lady. Its much pleasanter than when it rains- 
 Gent. Certainly, madam. 
 
 Lady. But the rain lays the dust the'. 
 
 Gent. Very true, ma'am. 
 
 Lady. It does good for the gardens. 
 
 Gent Upon my word it is impossible to controul such 
 self-evident axioms as these. Have you finished, madam, 
 because in return for the valuable infonnation you have 
 been pleased to give me, 1 feel a strong desire to oflfer you 
 some of my loose thoughts that I've put together for the 
 benefit of the rising generation, thoughts that have occupied 
 me many and many an hour after midnight, and consumed 
 many tons of midnight oil. He now diew from his pockvt 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 21 
 
 a paper, containing a collection of the most absurd truisms 
 which were meant as a satire on what the old lady said; 
 it would be tedious to enumerate them all. Suppose we 
 extract the essence and serve them up in shape of a song. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 I'm Simon Bore, jut come from college, 
 
 My studies I've pursued so far — 
 I'm called, for my surprising knowledge. 
 
 The walking Cyclopedia ; 
 Though some perhaps may call me quiz. 
 
 Their jeers I value not a jot, 
 In art and nature, all that is, 
 
 I'll tell you — aye, and all that's not. 
 
 So you must all acknowledge, O ! 
 I've made good use of college, O ! 
 Whilst I was there, completely bare, 
 I stripped the tree of knowledge, 1 
 
 Hay is brought to town in carts. 
 
 Ham sandwiches ar'n't made of tin ; 
 They don't feed cows on apple tarts. 
 
 Nor wear gilt spurs upon the chin ; 
 Bullock's don't wear Opera hats. 
 
 Fiddles are not made of cheese ; 
 Nor pigeon pies of water rats — 
 
 Boil'd salmon does not grow on trees, 
 
 Putty is not good to eat. 
 
 Frying pans ar'n't made of gauze ; 
 Penny rolls are made of wheat. 
 
 Straw bonnets, too, are made of straws j 
 Horses don't wear Hessian boots. 
 
 The Thames is not mock turtle soup ; 
 A child can't eat an iron hoop. 
 
 And pigs don't play the German flute. 
 
 Kittens are but little cats. 
 
 Mousetraps are not county jails — 
 Whales are full as large as sprats, 
 
 They don't stuflF geese with copper nails ; 
 
22 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 A German waltz is not a hymn. 
 
 The French are mostly born in France ; 
 
 Fishes ar'n't afraid to swim. 
 
 And turkies seldom learn to dance. 
 
 Twenty turnips make a score, 
 
 Dustmen rarely drink champaign ; 
 A cow's tail seldom grows before. 
 
 They don't make wigs of bamboo cane j 
 Dutchmen sometimes lie in beds, 
 
 A cabbage cannot dance a jig ; 
 Grass does not grow on ladies heads, 
 
 A bull dog need not wear a wig. 
 
 Fifty pounds of yellow soap, 
 
 Weigh more than twent-five of cheese ; 
 An oyster cannot chew a rope. 
 
 Poor people have a right to sneeze j 
 Pigs dont read the Morning Post, 
 
 Watch chains are not roasting jacks. 
 They dont make boots of butter'd toast. 
 
 Red herrings dont pay powder tax. 
 
 So you all must acknowledge, &c. 
 
 This created a laugh among the passengers, except the 
 London lady, who declared it was a pity to laugh at such 
 a song, for she never heard any thing half so true in all her 
 life — only there were one or two things in it which she 
 doubted, and one was about the pig, for she know'd there 
 was a pig once, and it could play the Garman flute ; and 
 she remembered a cow that she saw once in town, whose 
 tail grew out of its forehead. 
 
 Our conversation was put a stop to by the breaking of 
 one of the springs, which created such a sudden concussion, 
 that the poor Frenchman conveyed about an ounce of rap- 
 pee into his mouth instead of his nostrils ; in this dilemma 
 we were obliged to alight in the middle of the town of 
 Highgate ; and, as it would take nearly an hour to repair 
 our accident, I prevailed on a friend of mine to depart a 
 little way out of the high road, in order to pay a visit to 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 23 
 
 a celebrated vender of beef and mutton in that town, known 
 by the name of the Historical Butcher. This man was very 
 ostentatious of his knowledge of the History of Englahd, a 
 book he was constantly reading from morning till night, and 
 which he so admired that he never served a customer but 
 he related a part of the subject he had been reading in the 
 course of the day. You'll suppose a customer to be stand- 
 ing there, and a friend seated with him behind the counter 
 /iere,jwhich will account for the following curious jumble : — 
 *' What d'ye buy, what d'ye buy — v/ell, how are you ? — 
 how do you do? I am wery glad to see you ; this is wery 
 kind to call in this here way. I've been a reading as 
 usual all this here blessed morning, that favourite book of 
 mine, Hume's History in England ; what a book that are is ! 
 how hinstructive and henteHaining. Hume's History in Eng- 
 land is — lOd. per pound, ma'am. I have been reading the 
 forth Wolum, its a wery thick un, wery thick, indeed — 
 make nice soup, ma'am. Queen Mary — make nice Scotch 
 collops, ma'am. Sir Isaac Newton was a great man, he 
 knew all about the pole-axe of the Jixed stars, and how long 
 it would take a man to go in a tax 'd cart to the moon. 
 Queen Elizabeth went to St. Paul's on apillion — that saddle 
 of mutton's just your weight, ma'am. King Charles hid 
 himself in a tree in St. James's Park ; no, it warn't St. 
 James's Park, war it 1 however, I know it was some park ; 
 but the wicked rascals caught him and cut off his head — 
 make a capital hash, with parsley garnish, ma'am. Cardi- 
 nal Wulsey's father was a butcher, so am I ; there's a cu- 
 rious coincidence, an'tit? and Henry the Eight married 
 Queen Elizabeth ; — no, he didn't though, for she war his 
 mother ; — no, that couldn't be — but she was some relation. 
 King Henry the Eight — that's a nice fat bit, ma'am ; take it 
 wi' you." This was the learned oration that issued from 
 this Socrates of the Shambles, and drew a pretty numerous 
 audience round his shop. The guard now " blew a blast, 
 so loud and dread, were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of 
 woe," which summoned the vagrants to the refitted 
 vehicle. 
 
 The old fat gentleman was a little hurt, and declared he 
 would prosecute the coachman for daring to break one of 
 the springs. " llie scoundrel," says he, " to dare to at- 
 tempt to suffer a spring to break while I'm iu his coach ; 
 
24 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 I'll be revenged, I'll never suffer him to escape without a 
 just, a summary punishment. I'll go to law with the care- 
 less villain — I'll go to law with him, that I will as sure as 
 ever he's a coachman." 
 
 I smiled at the old gentleman, and endeavoured to calm 
 his enraged feelings, but all in vain, he was resolved and 
 no advice of mine could dissuade him from his purpose. 
 
 " Sir," says he, " I will prosecute him — I will annihi- 
 late the careless dog, and teach him that the lives of his 
 majesty's liege subjects afe not to be put in jeopardy 
 through the negligence of a brandy-drinking, dissipated, 
 •whip-cracking coachman, and on that very account I'll have 
 him before the Court of King's Bench ; and let the dog 
 know what punishment is in store for a rascal who has 
 not sense enough to drive without breaking the springs of 
 his coach." 
 
 " But dont go to law, sir," says I. 
 
 ** I will go to law, sir," says he. 
 
 *' If you will, sir, you must, sir, but I should advise you 
 not, sir ; for there is danger and expense in it. But since 
 you are so determined sir — hear me and I will explain. 
 
 " We shall now consider the law, as our laws are very 
 considerable, both in bulk and number, according as the 
 Statutes declare, " considerandi, considerando, consideran- 
 dum ;" and are not to be meddled with by those that don't 
 understand them. Law always expressing itself with true 
 grammatical precision, never confounding moods, cases, or 
 genders ; except, indeed, when a woman happens to be 
 slain, then the verdict is always brought in manslaughter. 
 The essence of the law is altercation, for the law can alter- 
 cate, fulminate, deprecate, irritate, and go on at any rate ; 
 now the quintessence of the law has, according to its 
 name, five parts : — The first, is the beginning, or insipien- 
 dum ; the second, the uncertainty, or dubitendum ; the 
 third, delay, or puzzleendum; fourthly, replication without 
 endum ; and fifthly, nostrum and horrendum. All which 
 are exemplified in the following case : 
 
 Daniel v, Dishclout, 
 
 Daniel was groom in the same family wherein Dishclout 
 was cookmaid ; and Daniel returning home one day fud- 
 dled, he stooped down to take a sop out of the drippihg 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 25 
 
 pan ; Dishclout pushed him into the dripping-pan, which 
 spoiled his clothes, and he was advised to bring his action 
 against the cookmaid, the pleadings of which were as fol- 
 lows : — the first person who spoke was Serjeant Snuffle : 
 He began saying, "Since I have the honour to be pitched 
 upon to open this cause to your lordship, I shall not 
 impertinently presume to take up any of your lordship's 
 time by a round-about circumlocutory manner of speaking 
 or talking, quite foreign to the purpose and not anywise re- 
 lating to the matter in hand ; I shall, I will, I design to 
 show what damages my client has sustained hereupon, 
 whereupon, and thereupon. Now, my lord, my client being 
 a servant in the same family with Dishclout, and not being 
 at board wages, imagined he had a right to the fee simple 
 of the dripping pan, therefore he made an attachment on 
 the sop with his right hand, which the defenda,nt replevied 
 with her left hand, tripped us up, and tumbled us into the 
 dripping pan. Now, in Broughton's reports. Slack v. Small- 
 wood, it is said, that "primus strocus sine jocus, absolutus 
 est provokos •" now, who gave the primus strocus ? who 
 gave the first offence? why, the cook; she brought the 
 dripping pan there ; for, my lord, though we will allow if 
 we had not been there, we could not have been thrown 
 down there; yet, my lord, if the dripping pan had not 
 been there for us to have tumbled down into, we could not 
 have tumbled down into the dripping pan." The next 
 counsel on the same side, began with, " My lord, he who 
 makes use of many words to no purpose, has not much to 
 say for himself, therefore I shall come to the point at once, 
 at once and immediately I shall come to the point. My 
 client was in liquor, the liquor in him having served an 
 ejectment upon his understanding, common sense was non- 
 suited, and he was a man beside himself, as Dr. Biblicus 
 declares, in his Dissertation upon Bumpers, in the 139th 
 folio volume of the Abridgment of the Statutes, page 1286, 
 he says, that a drunken man is homo duplicans, or a double 
 man, not only because he sees things double, but also be- 
 cause he is not as he should be, " profecto ipse he," but as 
 be should not be, " defecto tipse he," 
 
 The counsel on the other side rose up gracefully, playing 
 with his ruffles prettily, and tossing the tyes of his wig 
 aiout emphatically. He began with, " My lud, and you 
 
 c 
 
as THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 gentlemen of the juiy, I humbly do conceive, I ihave the 
 authority to declare, that I am counsel in this case for the 
 defendant, therefore my lud, I shall not flourish away in 
 words, words are no more than lillagree works ; some 
 people may think them an embellishment, but to me it is a 
 matter of astonishment, how any one can be so impertinent 
 to the detriment of all rudiment ; but. my lud, this is not 
 to be looked at through the medium of right and wrong, for 
 the law knows no medium, and right and wrong are but its 
 shadows. Now, in the first place, they have called a 
 kitchen my client's premises. Now, a kitchen is nobody's 
 premises, a kitchen is not a warehouse nor a wash-house, 
 a brewhouse, nor a bake-house, an outhouse nor an in- 
 house, nor a dwelling-house, nor any house ; no, my lud, 
 *tis absolutely and bona fide neither more nor less than a 
 kitchen, or as the law more classically expresses, a kitchen 
 is, " camera uecessaria pro usus cookaree ; cum sauce 
 pannis, scullero, dressero, coalholo, stovis, smoakjacko, pro 
 roastandum, boilandum, fryandum,et plum pudding-andum- 
 mixandum, pro turtule soupos, calves headhashibus, cum 
 calipee et calipashabus. But we shall not avail ourselves 
 of an alibi, but admit of the existence of a cook maid; 
 now, my lud, we shall take it upon a new ground, and beg 
 a new trial, for as they have curtailed our name, from plain 
 Mary into Moll, I hope the Court v/ill not allow of this ; 
 for if they were to allow of mistakes, what would the law 
 do, for when the law don't find mistakes it is the business 
 of the law to make them, therefore the Court allowed 
 them the liberty of a new trial, for the law is our liberty, 
 and it is happy for us that we have the liberty to go to 
 law, 
 
 This was all very well — the old gentleman appeared 
 satisfied with every thing, and as I endeavoured to humour 
 him, we soon managed very well together. Therefore, after 
 giving him liberty to go to law, he entered into a lively ex- 
 pression of feeling, and declared that England was the 
 greatest nation in the world, and he only regretted that he 
 was not in London when the foreign potentates were there, 
 and sorry he was that he knew little or nothing about it. 
 
 Anxious to allay his enmity against the coachman, I told 
 him I knew all about the affair, and would give him as 
 concise a history of it as possible in the shape of a song. 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 27 
 
 SONG, 
 
 There were four-and-twenty Visitors all of a row, . 
 Four-and-twenty Royal Visitors all of a row. 
 
 There was the Emperor of Russia, King of Prussia, 
 princes, field-marshals, generals, aides-de-camps, pretty 
 girls, prime ministers, jostling and squeezing, drums play- 
 ing, all huzzaing, cutting such a swell at the Pultney Hotel, 
 while the sweethearts and the duchesses and the goddesses, 
 and all the nonsuches, condescended to nod at the Picca- 
 dilly mob, Down below. 
 
 'Twas for the Royal Visitors, therefore they would b6 
 merry. 
 
 There were four-and-twenty Yorkshiremen all of a row, 
 Four-and-twenty Yorkshire tykes all of a row. 
 
 There was Davy Dumpling of Doncaster, Lubin Lob- 
 chops, of Leeds, Timothy Long, of Goose-gxeen, Harry 
 Handleflail, tag-rag and bob-tail. " I say, John, didst 
 ever see sich a sight as this, lad V " Nay, I'm sure I never 
 did, for it beats horse-racing, cock-fighting, York Minster 
 and judges coming down to 'sizes to hang folk." " I say, 
 lad, whafll thee tell 'em when thee gets yam?" *' Why, 
 I'll tell all about what I've seed, but, damn me^ if I think I 
 can recollect hauf that I seed ; I seed the Green Park alt 
 in the dark, and folk emptied my pockets while I lick'd all 
 the rockets ; and then up went a great air, balloon up to the 
 moon, and took with it 
 
 The Emperor of Russia, &c, &cc. 
 Down below, 
 
 'Twas for the Royal Visitors, &c. &c. 
 
 There were four and twenty Germans all of a row — • 
 Dere was Baron Von Dunderdunk, Mr. Von Schlachen, 
 Mrs. Von Schlachen, and all de little Schlachens and 
 great Schlachens, and great men of great families. " Oh, if 
 the Emperor of Garmany vas here, I should fetch out ray 
 great big horse and take von little de canter among de 
 crowd ; who vou'd ever have taut so grand a sight, as for 
 c2 
 
28 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 all de Allies to meet upon von little spot ; I should be glad 
 to know who vas the greatest hero of the day, 
 
 Why, it were Davy Dumpling, &c. 5cc. 
 Down below, 
 'Twas for the Royal Visitors, &c. &c. 
 
 There were four-and-twenty Irishmen all of a row, 
 
 Four-and-twenty paddies all of a row. 
 
 All hail to their outlandish majesties there, and long may 
 they reign, and then they will have hail and rain as long as 
 ever they live. Arrah/now, Judy, ease yourself up a top of 
 my shoulder, and take a peep at the thick skulls and the 
 crown'd heads ; isn't that the Emperor of Russia there ia 
 company with 
 
 Baron Von Dunderdunk, &c. 6tc. 
 Down below, 
 
 'Twas for the Royal, Visitors, 6cc. 6tc. 
 
 There were four-and-twenty Frenchmen all of a row. 
 There were four-and-twenty Frenchmen all of a row. 
 
 There was " Vive le Roi," " Vive le Bourbons," " Vive 
 le Jean Bull." " Vive le Jacky Bull," de roast beef and all 
 de little Bulls de Angleterre. 
 
 Oh long life to their outlandish majesties, ficc. &c, 
 Down below. 
 'Twas the Royal Visitors. &c. &cc. 
 
 There were four-and-twenty Actors all of a row, 
 Four-and-twenty Actors all of a row. 
 
 There was Kemble and Young in the midst of the 
 throng, and the great little Kean, shoving his nose in be- 
 tween; then there was the beautiful Miss O'Neill, who'd 
 melt a heart made of steel. 
 
 With Vive le Roi, &c. 
 Down below. 
 *Twas for the Royal Visitors, &c. 6cc. 
 
 Having thus given my fellow passengers a small idea of 
 the bustle attending the sojourn of the Royal Visitors in 
 London, I discovered that my fat friend was not one of 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 29 
 
 those men who could easily forget an injury, for at the end 
 of every verse he would slip in a word expressive of his 
 desire to punish coachey. 
 
 The unconscious coachman whipt his horses and never 
 dreamt that he was followed by so great and desperate an 
 enemy. 
 
 Looking out of the coach window I perceived at some 
 distance an immense concourse of people, and every per- 
 son expressed the greatest anxiety to know what was the 
 subject of the meeting. The coachman did not feel less 
 anxious than the company inside and out, and whipping 
 with all his might, we soon came near the spot, and a dead 
 stop was the consequence ; for whether the coachman did 
 it to please himself or the passengers, you'll be best able to 
 judge from the following fact : — 
 
 The Guard said to the Coachman ; I say Bill, we'll stay 
 and see this here fun out, and let the old tabbies wait half 
 an hour longer for their letters, if they like. The cause of 
 this laudable resolution was as follows : — 
 
 A quack doctor and his mountebank associate were ha- 
 ranguing the populace from a stage near the market-cross 
 of a country town, in order to sell their quack medicines ; 
 he said — Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Puff Stuff, 
 the physician, to the great and mighty Kow Kann, Empe- 
 ror of all the Chinas ; I was converted to Christianity du- 
 ring the embassy of the late Lord Macartney, and left that 
 there country and came to this here, which may be reckon'd 
 the greatest blessing that ever happened, to Europe, for 
 I've brought with me the following unparalleled, inesti- 
 mable, and never to be matched medicines : the first is 
 called the grand Parry Mandyron Rapskianum, from 
 Wandy Whang Whang — one drop of which, poured into 
 any of your gums, if you should happen to have the mis- 
 fortune to lose your teeth, will cause a new set to sprout 
 out, like mushrooms from a hot bed ; and if any lady 
 should happen to be troubled with that unpleasant and re- 
 dundant ezuberanae called a beard, it will remove it in 
 three applications, and with greater ease than Packwood's 
 razor strops. I'm also very celebrated in the cure of the 
 eyes ; the late Emperor of China had the misfortune to lose 
 his eyes by a catarach — I very dexterously took out the eyes 
 of his Majesty, and after anointing the sockets with a par- 
 
30 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 ticular glutinous happlication, I placed in two eyes from the 
 head of a living lion, which not only restored his majesty's 
 wision, but made him dreadful to all his enemies and be- 
 holders. I beg leave to say, that I have eyes from different 
 hanimals, to suit all your different faces and professions. 
 This here bottle which I holds in my hand, is called the 
 grand eliptical, asiatical, panticurical nervous cordial, that 
 cures all diseases incident to humanity. I don't like to 
 talk of myself. Ladies and Gentlemen, because the man 
 who talks of himself is a Hegotist, but this I will venture 
 to say of myself, that I am not only the greatest physician 
 and philosopher of the age, but the greatest genius that 
 ever illuminated mankind — but you know I don't like to 
 talk of myself: you should only read one or two of my lists 
 of cures, out of the many thousands I have by me ; if you 
 knew the benefit so many people have received from my grand 
 eliptical asiatical panticurical nervous cordial, that cures 
 all diseases incident to humanity, none of you would be such 
 fools as to be sick: I'll just read you one or two (reads 
 several letters). — Sir, I was jammed to a jelly in a linseed- 
 oil mill; cured with one bottle.* — Sir, I was boiled to death 
 in a soap manufactory ; cured with one bottle. — Sir, I was 
 cut in half in a saw pit; cured with half a bottle. — Now 
 comes the most wonderful of all. 
 
 Sir, — Venturing too near the Powder Mill at Faversham, 
 I was by a sudden explosion, blown into a million of atoms ; 
 by this unpleasant accident, I was rendered unfit for my 
 business (a banker's clerk) — but hearing of your grand 
 eliptical, asiatical, panticurical nervous cordial, I was per- 
 suaded to make essay thereof; the first bottle united my 
 strayed particles, the second animated my shattered frame, 
 the third effected a radical cure, the fourth sent me home 
 to Lombard-street to count guineas, make out bills for ac- 
 ceptance, and recount the wonderful effects of your grand 
 eliptical asiatical panticurical nervous cordial, that cures 
 all diseases incident to humanity. 
 
 Not a soul seem'd to repent this delay — all agreed that 
 it was well worth the time, and a hearty laugh was the con- 
 sequence, as \/e once more pursued our journey. 
 
 A gentleman who had been asleep some time, now began 
 to make himself visible, and from every appearance we ex- 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 31 
 
 pected the recital of a pleasant dream, after so many hours 
 spent in the arms of Morpheus. 
 
 Being a fine summer's evening, we perceived at a dis- 
 tance a gentleman with a large blue military coat, cap, and 
 enormous whiskers, strutting along the pathway with as 
 much ease as if he had conquered every thing, and had 
 nothing to look for. 
 
 Our sleepy friend having once more come to life, viewed 
 the figure, and with much astonishment,exclaimed — "I know 
 him — I know him — he wears false whiskers — he's not an 
 Englishman — he's a foreigner — he comes from distant parts, 
 and if you please ladies and gentlemen I'll tell you a story 
 about him. 
 
 He is a Swiss captain of grenadiers, whose company has 
 been cashiered, upon which he determined, since Mars had 
 no more employment for him, to try if he could not procure 
 a commission in the corps of Venus ; or, in other words, if 
 he could not get a wife ; and as he had no fortune of his 
 own, he reasoned, and reasoned very justly, it was quite 
 necessary his intended should have enough for them both. 
 The captain was one of those kind of heroes to whom the 
 epithet hectoring blade might readily be applied: he is 
 nearly six feet high, with a long sword, and fiercely cocked 
 hat; add to which, he was allowed to have the most mar- 
 tial pair of whiskers of any grenadier in the company to 
 which he had belonged. To curl these whiskers, to comb 
 and twist them round his forefinger, and to admire them in 
 the glass, formed the chief occupation and delight of his life. 
 A man of these accomplishments, with the addition of 
 bronze and rhodomontade, of which he had a superfluity, 
 stands at all times, and in all countries, a good chance with 
 the ladies, as the experience of I know not how many thou- 
 sand years has confirmed. 
 
 Accordingly, after a little diligent attention and artful 
 enquiry, a young lady was found, exactly such a one as 
 we may well suppose a person with his views would be 
 glad to find. She was tolerably handsome, not more than 
 three and twenty, with a good fortune ; and, what was the 
 best part of the story, this fortune was entirely at her own 
 disposal. 
 
 Our captain, who thought now or never was the time, 
 having first found means to introduce himself as a suitor, 
 was incessant in his endeavours to carry his cause, Hia 
 
32 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 tongue was eternally running in praise of her super-super- 
 lative, never-to-be-described charms : and in hyperbolical 
 accounts of the flames, darts, and daggers, by which his 
 lungs, liver, and midriff, were burnt up, transfixed, and 
 gnawed away. He, who, in writing a song to his sweet- 
 heart, described his heart to be without one drop of gravy, 
 like an overdone mutton-chop, was a fool at a simile when 
 compared to our hero. 
 
 One day, as he was ranting, kneeling, and beseeching 
 his goddess to send him of an errand to pluck the diamond 
 from the nose of the great mogul, and present it to her 
 divinityship, or suffer him to step aud steal the empress of 
 China's enchanted slipper, or the queen of Sheba's cocka- 
 too, as a small testimony of what he would undertake to 
 prove his love ; she, after little hesitation, addressed him 
 thus : — 
 
 "The protestations which you daily make, captain, as 
 well as what you say at present, convince me there is no- 
 thing you would not do to oblige me : I therefore do not 
 find much difiiculty in telling you I am willing to be yours, 
 if you will perform one thing which I shall request of 
 
 you."- 
 
 " Tell me, immaculate angel," cried our son of gun- 
 powder: "Tell me what it is; though, before you speak, 
 be certain it is already done. Is it to find the seal of 
 Solomon? to catch the phoenix? or draw your chariot to 
 church with unicorns ? what is the impossible act I will not 
 undertake?" 
 
 " No, captain," replied the fair one : " I shall enjoin 
 nothing impossible. The thing I desire, you can do with 
 the utmost ease. It will not cost you five minutes trouble. 
 Yet, were it not for your so positive assurances, I should, 
 from what I have observed, almost doubt of your com- 
 pliance." 
 
 " Ah, madam," returned he, " wrong not your slave 
 thus : deem it impossible, that he who eats happiness, and 
 drinks immo'-tal life from the light of your eyes, can ever 
 demur the thousandth part of a semi-second to execute 
 your omnipotent behests : speak ! say I what, empress of 
 my parched entrails, what must I perform ?" 
 
 " Nay, for that matter, 'tis a mere trifle ; only to cut off 
 your whiskers, captain ; that's all. 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 33 
 
 " Madam ! — (Be so kind, reader, as to imagine the cap- 
 tain's utter astonishment) — " My whiskers ! — cut off my 
 whiskers ! — excuse me ! — cut off my whiskers ! — madam ! 
 — any thing else — any thing that mind can, or cannot ima- 
 gine, or tongue describe. Bid me fetch you Prester John's 
 beard, a hair at a time, and it's done, but, for my whiskers, 
 you must grant me a salvo there" 
 
 " And why so, good captain 1 Surely any gentleman who 
 had but the tythe of the passion you express, would not 
 stand upon such a trifle V 
 
 "A trifle, madam? — my whiskers a trifle! no, madam, 
 no — my whiskers are no trifle. Had I but a single regi- 
 ment of fellows whisker'd like me, I myself would be the 
 grand Turk of Constantinople. My whiskers, madam, are 
 the last thing I should have supposed you would have 
 wished me to sacrifice. There is not a woman, married 
 or single, maid, wife, or widow, that does not admire my 
 whiskers." 
 
 " May be so, sir ; but if you marry me, you must cut 
 them off." 
 
 " And is there no other way ? Must I never hope to be 
 happy with you unless I part with my whiskers 1" 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 *' Why then, madam, farewell : I would not part with a 
 single hair of my whiskers, if Catherine the Czarina, Em- 
 press of all the Russias, would make me king of the Cal- 
 mucs ; and so good morning to you." 
 
 Had all the young ladies in like circumstances equal 
 penetration, they might generally rid themselves, with 
 equal ease, of the interested and unprincipled coxcombs 
 by whom they are pestered ; they all have their whiskers, 
 and seek for fortunes, to be able to cultivate, not cut 
 them off, 
 
 We all reprobated his folly, and commended the lady for 
 her sensibility — at the same time thanking the gentleman 
 for his entertaining story, and requesting him of possible to 
 oblige us with any thing in the shape of Song, Recitation, 
 or information that his experience had taught him, or that 
 his good sense might dictate — upon which he proceeded to 
 give us the description of a Club to which he once belonged. 
 
34 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 The Nightingale Club in a village was held. 
 At the sign of the Cabbage and Shears, 
 
 Where the singers, do doubt, would have greatly excelled. 
 But for want of taste, voices, and ears : 
 
 Still between every toast, with his gills mighty red, 
 
 Mr. President thus with great eloquence said : 
 
 (Spoken) ' Gentlemen of the Nightingale Club, — you all 
 know the Rules and Regulations of this Society ; and if 
 any Gentleman present is not aware of them, if he will 
 look over the fire-place he will find them chalked up : — • 
 That every Gentleman must sing a Volunteer Song, whether 
 he can or no, or drink a pint of salt and water. Therefor^, 
 to make a beginning of this evening's harmony, I shall call 
 upon Mr. Snuflfle.' — ' Sir — I have an extreme bad cold, 
 but with your permission I'll try to do my best.' — ' Sir, that's 
 all we wish ; for if you do your best, the best can do no 
 more.' — ' Permit me to blow my nose first, and I'll begin 
 directly." (^Singing, Snuffl'mg.) 
 
 Master I have, and I am his man. 
 
 Gall-up o' dreary dun, 
 
 Master I have, and I am his man. 
 
 He'll get a wife as fast as he can. 
 
 With his haily, gaily, gall-bo-rayly, 
 
 Higetty, pigetty, gigetty, nigetty. 
 
 Galloping dreary dun. 
 Bravo ! Bravo ! very well sung, 
 Jolly companions every one. 
 
 Thus the Nightingale Club nightly kept up their clamour, 
 And are nightly knock'd down with the President's 
 hammer. 
 
 When Snufile had finish 'd a man of excise. 
 Whose squint was ])rodigiously fine, 
 
 Sung, ' Drink to me only with thine eyes. 
 And I will pledge with mine.' 
 
MAtL-COACH ADVENTURES. 35 
 
 After which, Mr. Tug, who draws teeth for all parties, 
 Roar'd a sea song, whose burthen was, 
 
 * Pull away, pull away, my hearties ! 
 
 ' Pull — puJi away, pull away, my hearties ! 
 
 (Spoken.) Mr. Drinkall, we shall be happy to hear your 
 song, sir.' — (Drunk) — ' Ton my soul, Mr.President, I can- 
 not sing.' — ' Waiter, bring Mr. Drinkall a glass of salt and 
 water.' — 'No, no, Mr. President, sooner than swallow that 
 .dose, I'll try one.' Bravo ! silence ! 
 
 A lass is good, and a glass is good. 
 And a pipe to smoke in cold weather. 
 
 The world it is good , and the people are good. 
 And we're all good fellows together. 
 
 A song is a good thing when it's very well sung. 
 But some people they always stick in it, — 
 
 (Spoken.) *Pon my soul, Mr. President, I cannot sing 
 any more. 
 
 Bravo ! Bravo ! very well sung, &c, 
 
 Mr. Drybones sung next, who was turn'd of three-score. 
 And melodiously warbled away, — 
 .. ^ She's sweet fifteen, I'm one year more, 
 
 ' And yet we are too young, they say. 
 ' Then a little Jew Grocer, who wore a bob wig, 
 Struck up • Billy Pringle had von very leetel pig, 
 
 * Not very leetel, nor very big, 
 
 * But when alive, him live in clover, 
 
 * But now him dead, and dat's all over.' 
 
 (Spoken) * Mr. President, I think it's time we had a 
 i toast or sentiment.' — ' Certainly ; whose turn is it to give 
 I one? — 'Mr. Mangle, the Surgeon.' — 'Sir, I'll give you 
 Success to the man that draws blood for the good of his 
 country ! — ' And now, Mr. Dismal, we'll thank you for % 
 song.' — ' Sir, I shall give you something sprightly. 
 
 ' Merry are the bells, and merry do they ring, 
 * Merry is myself, and merry will I sing.' 
 
 Bravo ! Bravo ! very well sung, See. 
 
36 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 Billy Piper, (some members call'd Breach of the Peace, 
 
 Because all his notes were so shrill,) 
 Shriek'd out, like the wheel of a cart that wants grease, 
 ' Deeper and deeper still.' 
 
 Mr. Max, who drinks gin, wish'd to coo like a dove, 
 Murmur'd sweetly, ' Oh ! listen to the voice of love, 
 ' Which calls my Daphne to the grove.' 
 
 (Spoken) Mr. Double-lungs, the butcher, was next called 
 on, who had a kind of a duetto voice, something like a 
 penny trumpet and a kettle drum. — ' Mr. Double-lungs, we 
 wish to hear your song.' — ' Sir, I'll sing with all my heart, 
 liver, and lights ; I'll sing you the Echo song out of Comus, 
 with my own accompaniments, for when a man echoes him- 
 self, he's sure to do it in the right key. 
 
 * Sweet echo! Sweet echo !' 
 
 Bravo ! Bravo ! very well sung, &c. 
 
 When the song was ended the company were silent 
 for a few moments, but he re-commenced the action by 
 saying— 
 
 That persons of every profession must undoubtedly have 
 heard of Mr. Jeremy Stitchclose, the celebrated tailor, who 
 resides near the court-end of the town. He fits the human 
 body on anatomical principles, with those garments that 
 give so much grace and elegance to the person, and are the 
 universal admiration of the fashionable loungers of Bond 
 Street and Rotten Row. Had Richard the Third come 
 under the hands of this skilful artist he would have made 
 him look like a perfect Adonis, in spite of a crook'd back, 
 withered arm, and bow legs ; for it is a well known fact, 
 that when the famed Hottentot Venus visited the gallery of 
 the House of Commons, disguised in male attire, that every 
 article of her apparel was the production of this man of 
 genius, and, notwithstanding the enormous bulk and rotun- 
 dity of her nether part, the lady's breeches were so artfully 
 fashioned that she was universally received as a delicate 
 young gentleman ! Mr. Stitchclose was one day seated in his 
 parlour taking his wine after dinner, when Tim Measure- 
 well, the foreman — vulgo, the cutter — ushered in a French 
 gentleman, who appeared to be in want of some of their 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 37 
 
 omraodities, but had vainly endeavoured to make himself 
 understood. He says something about his waist, whispered 
 the foreman. Yes ; vest, ce'st ca, veste. — Oh, I compre- 
 hend, a waistcoat is the article the gentleman is in want of. 
 Oui ; yes, sare, waiste-cottes ; and de coloure — de coloure 
 — blanc — dat is vite. White, yes, sir ; and of what mate- 
 rial would you be pleased to have it? — Ah, de material, 
 dites moi ; tell me de name of de different fabriques done 
 vous faitesvos waiste-cottes? Marseilla? — Non. Cassi- 
 mere?— Non. Cloth? — Non. Toilinette? — Non. Dimity? 
 — Non. Jane? — Non. Sarcenet? — Non. Silk? — Non. 
 Shag?— Non. Plush?— Non. Corderoy ?— Non. Patent 
 Cord? — Non. Flannel? — Non. Still it was — dat is no 
 dat, non, non, non. Mr. Stitchclose shrugged up his shoul- 
 ders ; Tim scratched his pole ; Monsieur was all animation, 
 the Strabsurgh paid frequent visits to his nostrils. Diable 
 aidez moi — ah, oui, cest bieu — vat you call de Diable — de 
 Devil in your tongue ? The Devil, sir, is the general ap- 
 pellation we give him. Ah, oui, vraiment; but you have 
 many more names for the Devil, comme nous ? Oh, yes, 
 air, he's a character well known in London ; we call him 
 Belzebub. — Non. Lucifer? — A shake of the head. Old 
 Nick ? — ^The same. Infernal spirit ? — Enfer— dat is de 
 Devil's locaitaire — non, non. Serpent? — Dat did seduce 
 Eve — non. Appolyon, Davy Jones, Dragon, Babel, Satan, 
 Demon, monster of the bottomless pit. Asmodeus— oui, 
 oui, oui, c'est dat— c'est Satan, fabriques de Satan dat I 
 require for my waistcottes. — A satin waistcoat, sir ; I shall 
 be proud to serve you. 
 
 My friends, when you see a courtier adorned with a waist- 
 coat of the Devil's name do not ungraciously presume to 
 think that, although the wearer maybe hankering after the 
 loaves and fishes, and the candle-ends and cheeseparings of 
 office, that he is in the slightest degree a worshipper of his 
 Satannic Majesty, although he wears his court livery. 
 
 Our friend proved a valuable acquisition to us, and hav- 
 ing amused us thus far, we all began to set our wits to work 
 to collect something for the amusement of each other. 
 
 I therefore thought the recital of a Theatrical Coijrespon- 
 dence might not be unacceptable, and commenced by read- 
 ing the following letters : — 
 
^ THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 " Deaii Rantall, 
 
 " Can yoii accommodate us with about a do^en flashes of 
 lightning, a shower of rain and some wind for the Tempest 
 to-night ; and if you can lend me two or three virgins for 
 the farce, you will essentially serve me, as two of ours are 
 lying in, and the other two so far advanced towards that 
 honourable state, that we cannot impose them upon the au- 
 dience as a tiling of the kind. Our call-man has met with 
 a severe accident, in running a spike into his mouth, by 
 which, from the most talkative, he is become the most 
 silent man in the world, and totally incapable of his busi- 
 ness. Have you any person of that description you could 
 lend us? If you can you will eternally oblige, 
 
 " Your's, truly, 
 
 " NECESSItUS." 
 
 P. S. — The lady you sent me to play Juliet, had a drop 
 from some cause or other, for she fell oflF the bier at the 
 mouth of the tomb, and rolled among the musicians. 
 
 (ANSWER.) 
 
 " Dear Necessitus, 
 
 *' You know our readiness on all occasions to oblige you ; 
 but you could not have wanted one thing we are more 
 scantily provided with than virgins. However, I have mus- 
 tered you two, which will very much distress us, unless 
 they are returned the first thing in the morning. I have 
 sent lightning, wind, hail, and rain, by the bearer, in k 
 hamper — the virgins will come clean and neat after tea, 
 and time enough for the farce. With respect to your call- 
 man, we cannot accommodate you exactly with one of that 
 description ; but our property man can talk enough for any 
 two theatres, and if you are very much distress'd we will 
 share him with you ; but in that case, I hope you wont suf- 
 fer him to be laughed at for any errors in his language or 
 orthography, both which are peculiar to himself. I shall 
 want for Saturday a moon, a serene sky, a calm sea, a 
 wheelbarrow, a Mount Vesuvius, and a coffin. 
 
 " Your's, ever, 
 
 " Rantall." 
 
MAIL-C©ACH ADVENTU^IES. 39 
 
 (ANSWER.) 
 
 " Dear Rantall, 
 "I feel much indebted to you for your virgins; I re- 
 turned them last night, and hope they got safe to your 
 bands, as well as the other combustibles you were good 
 enough to send me. I am much afraid your property-man, 
 would be too much for us ; therefore, (without disparage- 
 ment to his abilities) will make shift without him. Your 
 lightning was exhausted before the three peals of thunder ; 
 but the rain, wind, hail, a great crash, a gong, &c. made us 
 I think sufficiently dreadful. All you want will be ready, 
 except Mount Vesuvius, which was destroyed by the last 
 explosion. " Your^s, &c. 
 
 " Necessitus." 
 
 (LETTER.) 
 
 *' Dear Necessitus, 
 '* How many devils have you got in your company, male 
 and female 1 — And have you a good dancing one 1 The 
 man I had fixed on to play the devil here, has left us, and 
 I'm sorry to say, our company is so angelic, that we czmnot 
 muster infemals enough for the last scene but one in our 
 Pantomime, consequently cannot come to the established 
 conclusion. Do let me have as tall a Devil as you can 
 spare ; and let him bring his cloven feet, and a shower of 
 fire in his pocket, or we shall be damn'd. 
 
 '* Your's, &c. 
 
 " Rantall." 
 
 (LETTER.) 
 
 " Dear Rantall, 
 " Send me two genteel assassins, and let them come 
 clean shaved. — Have you a Cupid you could lend us ! ours 
 has got the small-pox. We will give him eighteen -pence 
 a-night, but he must find his own wings. 
 " Your's, ever, 
 
 *' Necessitus." 
 The Cupid was sent, and that puts an end to the corres- 
 pondence. 
 
 d2 
 
40 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 The drowsy, reeling, unwilling passengers now alighted 
 to take their supper in the town of Ware, and I question 
 if ever a Flemish Tarboldolt, or a Congress at llhapstadt 
 displayed such a miscellaneous assemblage as the room into 
 which we were ushered. Here were passengers from three 
 different coaches in the same room, stopped for the same 
 purpose. In one corner of the room was a Miss, who de- 
 clared it was the wery height of wulgarity to eat suppers. 
 In another was an elderly lady and little boy, who were 
 regaling themselves with biscuits and brandy and water, 
 and an old man with a large hat, tied under his chin with 
 a blue and white pocket handkerchief. The guard of one 
 of the coaches came in to announce the expiration of the 
 time. Oh, for the pen of a Fielding, or the pencil of Ho- 
 garth, to describe the scene that ensued. — (Horn) — Come, 
 ladies and gemmen, we're all ready." — " All ready, sir ; 
 what do you mean by all Tea.dy V— (pulling out his uatch.') 
 " Vy,"" said a gentleman, " we hav'nt been here ten mi- 
 nutes. Where's the bill 1"—" Four shillings."—" Veil, 
 that's laying it on pretty thick: vat four shillings for that 
 are little bit of weal, and that Foxall slice of ham ? I never 
 seed such a himposition in all my life : you treat people in 
 stage coaches more like convicts than gentlefolks. If ever 
 I come by these here coaches again, I'll bring my supper in 
 my pocket, that's what I'll do." — " Waiter, where's my 
 cane I laid in this chair V* — "Talking of canes, where's 
 that snuff-box I put down on this table? — And waiter, 
 where's the fishing-rod I put in that window V 
 
 In this confusion, a figure, which attracted all their at- 
 tention — a huge farmer, with his wig tied the hind part be- 
 fore, a pipe in one hand and a glass in the other — entered 
 the room, and stared at us all for some time with perfect 
 stupidity and amazement. It is said the Romans gave 
 annual permission to their slaves to get intoxicated, in order 
 to shew their masters the odiousness of the practice. I 
 hope the following imitation may be construed to be intro- 
 duced by me with the same moral view. — Imitates a druken 
 farmer, and after staggering repeatedly and endeavouring to 
 light his pipe, putting out one of the candles, and making efforts 
 to relight it, he proceeds as JoUows) — (laughs) — What do I 
 laugh at? What a fool a man is to laugh, when he don't 
 know what may happen to him the next minute. I'm a 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 41 
 
 very happy man in my family, I've two of the finest chil- 
 dren that any body — ever stuck a knife in ;— I've a boy 
 who writes two hands, one that he can't read himself, and 
 one that nobody else can read ; and he is such a sensible 
 creature, he put his hand on a red hot poker the other day, 
 and took it away again without any body telling him. I 
 wish you all good night — I shall go to bed now. If any 
 body has any objection to my going to bed I hope he'll say 
 so — I don't mean to offend no gentleman.— But, where 
 shall I hide my money to-night — my wife always searches 
 my pockets — oh I I know, I'll put it into the Bible, she 
 never looks in that. — (Pointing to the door) — I see the 
 door— there it is-— I know my way. Betty, bring me & 
 candle, I want to go to bed. That woman goes up stairs 
 forty times a day, and never comes down again. I wish 
 you all a good night (th^n he walks away). 
 
 After he had goae, Zachary Flail, the farmer's man, 
 came in, and feeling inclined to pass a joke upon him, 
 he said, " Don*tee be too deep, sir, for Ize been to Lunnun, 
 and if you doubt, just pay attention and I'll convince you 
 that I am telling the truth. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Full half of the town over they keep digging traps. 
 To catch, like live rabbits, us poor country chaps ; 
 They say they be laying down pipes, but what then I 
 That there be no reason for laying down men. 
 
 Gee ho Dobbin, &c. 
 
 From Tower-hill summit I saw the new Mint, 
 But says I to the showman, now take a fool's hintp— 
 You've shown me the Mint, and it makes a fine dash. 
 But I'd thank you the next time to show me the cash. 
 
 Gee ho, Dobbin, 
 
 The streets from St. Giles's to Hanover square. 
 Are lit up wi gas, G my stars what a glare ! 
 But it makes such a deuce of a smell, I suppose 
 Its the f^hipn in London to see through the nose. 
 
 Gee hoi Dobbin, &cc, 
 1)3 
 
42 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 From Pall-mall to Wapping, the beaux of all ranks, 
 Wrap up in large trowsers their long spindle shanks ; 
 Which flapping beneath their lac'd up skinny backs. 
 Makes 'em look like an hour-glass walking in sacks. 
 
 Gee ho, Dobbin, &c. 
 
 But one place I saw was past all endurance, 
 Was a place in the city, for London assurance ; 
 An oflice in London for that is by goles, 
 Like sending to Newcastle a chaldron of coals. 
 
 Gee ho, Dobbin, &c. 
 
 When wives take to scolding, their husbands to vex. 
 They sell them in Smithfield with ropes round their 
 
 necks ; 
 I don't wonder that husbands should sell'em not I, 
 But its a wonder they get any body to buy, 
 
 Gee ho, Dobbin, &c. 
 
 The ladies at Whitbey in veils walk about. 
 But the ladies in London beat them out and out ; 
 They wear such large bonnets a poking out thus. 
 That nought but a donkey can give them a buss. 
 
 Gee ho, Dobbin, &c. 
 
 This proved to me that Zachary knew as much of the 
 metropolis as myself, and I was very glad to drop the dis- 
 course — but the guard prevented any thing farther from 
 occurring by announcing to us that the horses were put to, 
 and that all were ready to start. I very naturally took my 
 seat in the coach, and in a very few moments not only for- 
 got the drunken farmer, but his comical man, the knowing 
 Zachary Flail. 
 
 I had not been long in the coach when methought I in- 
 sensibly fell asleep, and mimic Fancy, ever busy, pre- 
 sented before me the following farce :— 
 
 Methought I saw his worship, Mr. Augustus Peus, sit- 
 ting in an elbow chair at the head of a long table, with a 
 book, pen, ink, and paper lying thereon ; a group of people 
 attending at the lower end thereof, when his worship bade 
 a boy step to the stable, and tell John Scrubb to come im- 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 43 
 
 mediately. John, with his short cropt hair and dirty frock, 
 presently came in, took his seat by his worship and laid 
 hold of the pen and ink. Then Mr. Augustus, with great 
 solemnity, began with — " Master Constable, what defence, 
 has been committed, and what crime has been disturbed, 
 and how has his Majesty's peas been broken and win- 
 dercated ?" 
 
 Const. An' please your honor's worship and glory, here's 
 one Mary Blabtruth hath lost a shiftes, and says as how 
 she is sartain that Dorothy Lightfinger have nibbled it ; and 
 so, and please your glorious worship, I have made them 
 both toddle here. 
 
 Mr. A. A shiftes stolen ! why that's downright /oT^'un/ by 
 law. • Bring the complainant, Dorothy Lightfinger before me. 
 
 Const. This is the woman, an' please your worship. 
 
 Mr. A. Hussy, hu^sy ; how came you to have the^re of 
 God afore your eyes and steal the woman's shiftes ? You are 
 an equitious baggage, and you shall be hanged, you hussy, 
 you shall. 
 
 1st Worn. An' please your worship, I did not steal her 
 shiftes. 
 
 Mr. A. Why, how now ? here's a saucy slut — the woman 
 confesses she did not steal the shiftes. Where's the defendant 
 Mary Blabtruth ? 
 
 Const. Here, I say, Moll — mind and tell his worship the 
 truth, d'ye hear ? Here she is, and please your honor's 
 worship and glory. 
 
 Mr. A, How came you to discharge this here woman 
 with stealing your shiftes, for she denies her innocence of it ? 
 
 2nd Worn. An' please your worship, my shiftes was hang- 
 ing on a gooseberry bush in the garden, and I seed her take 
 it oflF with my own eyes. 
 
 1st Worn. An' please your worship, there's no belief in 
 what she says, for 
 
 Mr. A, Peas, woman, peas ; I forbids you to hold your 
 tongue. 
 
 2nd Worn. Indeed, an please your worship, what I say 
 is true. I looked through the kitchin window and there I 
 sawd her take it, for I was at that very time frying bacon 
 for my husband's dinner. 
 
 Mr. A, What ! frying bacon ! Woman, was you frying 
 bacon ? 
 
44 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 2nd, Worn. Yes, and please your worship, and some 
 cabbage, for my husband's dinner, because as how he de- 
 sired me. 
 
 Mr. A. Aye, aye ; where is this woman's husband? 
 
 Man. Here I be, an' please your worship. 
 
 Mr. A, Did you desire your wife to fry bacon for your 
 dinner ? 
 
 JVfan. Yes, I did, an' please your woriliip ; because I 
 like it with some nice cabbage. 
 
 Mr. A. Here's a plot found out! here's a Twiscoieri/ / Vhy, 
 frying bacon is a misdammer by law, and you shall both go 
 to the galhouse and be hanged. Master Constable, take 
 them into cursetodaj/ ; and do you, John Scrubb, make out 
 their mittimous, for they shall both go to gaol this instance. 
 
 Const. What would your honour's worship and glory 
 please to have done with Doroty Lightfinger'? 
 
 Mr. A. Oh, charge her, and let her go about her baseness, 
 
 I thought John made out their mittimus, the constable 
 carried otF the bacon-friers, and the rest of the company 
 wiere sent away ; and while I was wondering what his 
 worship could mean by committing the man and his wife 
 for frying bacon, presently the scene changed, and a court 
 of justice, with all its formalities, presented itself. The 
 judge was sitting on the bench, and a numerous body of 
 black gowns and others attending, when Mr. Augustus 
 Peas came into Court and seated himself not far from his 
 lordship, when the trial of Thomas and Mary Blabtruth, 
 for frying bacon, was called. " For frjing bacon," says the 
 judge, " why what's the meaning of this ; I never heard 
 that frying bacon was a crime, or against law before. Who 
 committed those people 1" 
 
 Mr. A. I committed them, my lord ; it is against all law, 
 and a high misdammer. 
 
 Judge. Pray, Mr. Justice, be so good as to show me that 
 law, for I never heard of such a one in all my life. 
 
 Mr. A. " Here is the book, my lord, and here is the 
 place," giving the book to his lordship. The judge having 
 cast his eyes upon the page, burst out into a loud laugh, 
 and with much ado for laughing, acquainted the Court 
 that the law which Mr. Augustus had taken to be against 
 frying bacon, was that against ^riw^ a beacon, which put the 
 whole Court into such a loud laugh that I awoke. 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 45 
 
 And although this was but a mere dream, it presents an 
 excellent picture to the sensitive mind ; for how many are the 
 instances we have had of magistrates converting the law 
 into a vehicle for the completion of their ambitious and re- 
 vengeful desires, or as a mirror wherein the world has had 
 an opportunity of discovering that vice and ignorance are 
 generally united to oppress the honest and degrade the man 
 who is bold and honourable enough to oppose them in its 
 progress. 
 
 The law has been abused, and it is a pity : — the law 
 meant to guard us asleep and awake, and shield our homes 
 from danger. 
 
 What a profound study is the law, and how difficult to 
 fathom; "Your son follows the law. Sir Thomas," said 
 Mrs. Sprightly to'ther day — " Yes, ma'am, but I'm afraid 
 he'll never overtake it ; a person following the law, and 
 making nothing of it, is like two boys running round a 
 table — he follows the law, and the law follows him. If you 
 take away the whereofs, moreovers, forthwiths, aforesaids, 
 and notwithstandings, the whole mystery vanishes ; the law 
 is then like Macheath without any song — it's like a suit of 
 clothes, you must pay well for them before you can get into 
 them ; it's also like a pair of spectacles, you must pay for 
 it through the nose. — I shall now proceed to relate a sketch 
 of a trial which took place in a town, which for obvious 
 reasons shall be nameless : Goody Grim inhabited an alms- 
 house. No. 2 ; Will Lapstone, a superannuated old Cobler, 
 No. 3, and a Jew Pedlar who was travelling along the 
 road where these almshouses happened to be erected, 
 thought of nothing else but No. 1. Goody Grim was in the 
 act of killing one of her own proper pigs, when the animal 
 disliking the ceremony, burst from her hold, and run 
 through the semicircular legs of the aforesaid Jew, knock 'd 
 him into the mud, ran back again into Will Lapstone's the 
 cobler, upset a quart bottle full of Holland's gin, belong- 
 ing to said Lapstone, and took refuge in Crispin's state 
 bed. The parties being of course in the most opulent cir 
 cumstances, consulted counsel learned in the law ; the re- 
 sult was, that Goody Grim was determined to bring an ac- 
 tion against Lapstone for the loss of her pig with a curly, 
 tail ; and Lapstone, to bring an action against Goody for 
 the loss of a quart bottle full of Holland's gin : and Mor- 
 
46 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 dec&i, to bring an action against them both, for the loss of 
 an ivory tetotum that fell out of his pocket in the rencon- 
 tre. They all delivered briefs to counsel before it suggest- 
 ed itself to them they were all parties and no witnesses ; 
 but Goody Grim, like a wise old lady as she was, now 
 changed her battery, and was determined to bring her ac- 
 tion against Lapstone, and bind over Mordecai to give evi- 
 dence. The indictment set forth, that he, Lapstone, not 
 having the fear of the assizes before his eyes, but being 
 moved by pig, and instigated by pruin sauce, did on tht 
 first day of April, a day sacred in the_ annals of the" law, 
 steal, pocket, hide, and crib, divers — to wit, 5000 hogs, 
 sows, boars, pigs, and porkers, with curly tails, and did 
 secret the said 5000 hogs, sows, boars, pigs, and porkers, 
 with curly tails, in his, said Lapstone's bed, against the 
 peace of our Lord the King, his crown and dignity, 
 
 Mordecai examined by Sergeant Puzzle. 
 
 Serg. Well, sir, what are you 1 
 
 Mor, I sell old clothes, sealing-wax, and puckles; 
 
 Serg. I didn't ask you what you sold, I ask you what 
 you are? 
 
 Mor. I am about five-and-forty. 
 
 Serg, Man, I didn't ask your age, I ask you what 
 you are? 
 
 Mor. I am a Jew, 
 
 Serg. Well, why couldn't you say so at first ; then, if 
 you're a Jew, tell me all you know of this affair. 
 
 Mor. As I vas a valking along. 
 
 Serg. Mam, I don't want to know where you were 
 walking. 
 
 Mor. Vel, as I was valking along. 
 
 Serg. So you will walk in spite of all I can say. 
 
 Mor, Blesh my heart, you vil frighten me out of my vits— 
 I was valking along, I seed the unclean animal coming at 
 towards me, and so, says I, Oh, Father Abraham, says I — 
 
 8erg, Father Abraham man's no evidence. 
 
 Mor. You must let me tell my story my own vay, or I 
 cannot tell it at all ; as I vas valking along I seed the un- 
 clean animal acoming attowards me, and. Oh, Father, 
 Abraham, says I, here comes the unclean animal, so he 
 run'd between my legs and upset me in the mud. 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 47 
 
 Sei'g. Now, do you mean to say on your oath that that 
 little animal had the power to upset you in the mud? 
 
 Mor, I will take my oath he upset me in the mud. 
 
 Serg. Pray, sir, on which side did you fall? 
 
 Mor. On the muddy side. 
 
 Serg. I mean on which of your own sides did you fall ? 
 
 Mor. I fell on my left side. 
 
 Serg, Now, on your oath, sir, was it your left side. 
 
 Mor. I will take my oath it was my left side. 
 
 Serg. And pray, what did you do when you fell down ? 
 
 Mor. I did get up again. 
 
 Serg. Perhaps you can tell me whether the pig had a 
 curly tail ? 
 
 Mor. I'll take my oath it had a curly tail like my peard . 
 
 Serg. And pray where was you going when this happened 1 
 
 Mor. I was going to the sign of the Cock and Bottle. 
 
 Serg. Now, on your oath, what had a cock to do with a 
 bottle 1 
 
 Mor. I don't know ; but it was the sign of the house, and 
 all more I know of this affair is, that I lost an ivory teto- 
 tum out of my pocket. 
 
 Serj. Oh, you lost a tetotum out of your pocket, did 
 you 1 I thought I should bring you to something at last. — 
 My lord (turning to the Judge) I beg leave to take an ex- 
 ception to this man's evidence j he does not come into Court 
 with clean hands. 
 
 Moi'. How the devil should I, when I have been polish- 
 ing my goods all the morning. 
 
 Serg. Now, my lord, your lordship is aware that tetotum 
 is derived from the Latin terms te and tutum, which means, 
 keep yourself safe ; and this man, but f«r my profound sa- 
 gacity, observation, and so forth, would have kept himself 
 safe ; but he has, as the learned Lord Verulam expresses 
 it, let the cat out of the bag. 
 
 Mor. I will take my oath I had no cat in my bag. 
 Sei^g. My lord, by his own confession he was about to 
 vend a tetotum. Now, my lord and gentlemen of the jury, 
 it is my duty to point out to you that a tetotum is an un- 
 lawful machine, made of ivory, with letters printed upon it, 
 for the purposes of gambling, or as the law books more ele- 
 gantly express it — tetotum est macheni voria, cum letteress per- 
 purcipus gamblendi. Now, your lordship is aware that the 
 
48 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 Act, commonly known by the name of the Little Go Act, 
 expressly forbids all games of chance whatever, whether 
 put, whist, marbles, swabs, tetotum, chuck-farthing, dumps, 
 or what not ; and, therefore, I do contend, that this man's 
 evidence is contra bonus mores, and he is, consequently, non 
 compos testamonia. 
 
 Serg. Botherum. My lord, and gentlemen of the jury, my 
 worthy friend, Puzzle, has in a most facetious manner, en- 
 deavoured to cast a slur on the highly honourable evidence 
 of the Jew Merchant, and I do contend, that he who buys 
 and sells is bona fide inducted into all the mysteries of mer- 
 chandize ; ergo, he who merchandizes, is, to all intents aud 
 purposes, a merchant. The learned Sergeant, in the 
 twisting and twining his argument in handling the tetotum, 
 can only be called obito dictum — he is playing, my lord, a 
 losing game. Gentlemen of the Jury, he has told you the 
 origin, use, and abuse of tetotum, nay more, he has quoted 
 authority to back his argument ; but the learned sergeant, 
 gentlemen, has forgot to tell you what the great luminary 
 of the law, the late learned Coke, has said on the subject 
 in a case exactly similar to this. In the two hundred and 
 thirty-fourth volume of the Abridgement of the Statutes, 
 page one thousand three hundred and forty-nine, where he 
 thus lays down the law, in the case of Hazard versus 
 Blacklegs — gamblendum consistit enactam gamblendi, sed non 
 avendum macheni placendi. My lord, I beg leave to say, 
 that if I prove that my client was in the act of selling, and 
 not playing with said instrument, tetotum, I humbly presume 
 all my learned friend has said falls to the ground. 
 
 Judge, Certainly, brother Bothenim. There's no doubt 
 the learned Serjeant is incorrect ; the law does not put a 
 man extra Ugium for merely spinning a tetotum : it's entirely 
 out of the question. 
 
 Serg. My lord, 1 beg your lordship's pardon, Mr. Giblett, 
 one of the gentlemen of the jury, has fallen down in a 
 swoon. 
 
 Judge. Then somebody must twig him by the nose, for he 
 cannot leave the Court. 
 
 Puzzle. INIy lord, one of the witnesses has sworn that the 
 pig had a curly tail ; now, my lord, I presume, if [ prove 
 that this pig had a straight tail, I consider this objection 
 must be fatal. 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 49 
 
 Judge, Certainly. Order the pig into Court. — (Here the 
 pig was accordingly brought into Court, and on examina- 
 tion was found to have a straight tail, which finished the 
 trial.) — Judge. Gentlemen of the jury — it is really unneces- 
 sary to recapitulate the evidence, for the removal of this 
 objection removes all ground of action ; and, notwithstand- 
 ing the ancient statue, which says, sirum pigum, et boreum 
 pigum, et vendi curium tailum, there is irrefragable proof, by 
 occular demonstration, that Goody Grim's grunter had a 
 straight tail, and, therefore, the prisoner must be acquitted ; 
 and really, gentlemen, if the time of the Court is to be 
 taken up with these frivolous actions, the designs of justice 
 will be entirely frustrated, and the attorney who recom- 
 mends this action should be punished, not in the ordinary 
 way, but with the utmost rigour and severity of the law. — ■ 
 The aflfair has since been thrown into Chancery, and is ex- 
 pected to be settled about the year one thousand nine hun- 
 dred and fifty-four. 
 
 But whatever other folks may think, I have my doubts, 
 and think the counsellors will be set at work again when the 
 expected time arrives, for there is so much improbability in 
 the law, that it is impossible for man, woman, or child, to 
 place any dependance upon it. And since I at all times 
 detest any thing improbable, I shall probably give you a 
 little real truth in a short song written upon three physicians 
 of London, who went to Yorkshire to physic a gouty earl. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Tune — Derry Down. 
 
 Three Physicians of London, for Yorkshire set out. 
 Where an Earrs noble stomach was storm'd by the gout ; 
 And to guard the good Peer from all future assault, 
 Ecod, they jallap'd him into his family vault. 
 
 Derry down. 
 
 Well paid by the heir, they departed for town, 
 Saying we'll travel up, since my Lord's travell'd down ; 
 And at Newark we'll sup, where let each down his throttle. 
 Pour a large dose of port, without shaking the bottle. 
 
 Derry down. 
 
/ 
 50 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 At the inn, two roast fowls Doctor Calomel chose, 
 Which fat Doctor Fingerfee did not oppose ; 
 And Isaacs bawl'd out, though he was a J«w, 
 Pray garnish dem fowls with a sausage or two. 
 
 Derry down. 
 
 Tho' the wine was as thick as the three Doctor's heads. 
 They fuddled their noses, then call'd for their beds ; 
 Molly Chambermaid stared, when with looks mighty grand. 
 Doctor Calomel bid her pull off his right hand. 
 
 Derry down. 
 
 When Calomel's hand was pull'd off to put by. 
 
 Fat Fingerfee roar'd, hussey take out my eye ; 
 
 But Isaacs, more mild, cried wrap dem dere tings in towels. 
 
 And mind not to touch dem my dear, dere my bowels. 
 
 Deny down. 
 
 In the pantry, the chambermaid stow'd all the articles. 
 Of the three learned doctors, profound in catharticles ; 
 But a hound, whilst they slept, and ne'er dreamt of the 
 
 matter, 
 Gobbl'd up all the property out of the platter. 
 
 Derry down. 
 
 Invention arose 'midst the chambermaid's crosses. 
 
 And bid her repair, not weep o'er her losses ; i 
 
 A blind thief hangs up on a gibbet hard by, 
 
 I can there get a hand, but then how get an eye. 
 
 Derry down. 
 
 By chance a torn cat had expired in the night. 
 Whose eye served for Fingerfee's lost orb of sight ; 
 Then a hog had been butcher'd, a porker well grown, 
 Whose chitterlings, e'en Jews might mistake for their own. 
 
 Derry down. 
 
 Doctor Calomel rose, in this farce the first actor, 
 And clap'd on the hand of the blind male factor j 
 Next Fingerfee rose, drew his purse from his pocket, 
 Tipt Molly, then popt the cat's eye in his socket. 
 
 Derry down. 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 51 
 
 Isaacs tuck'd in the bowels — all three left the inn ; 
 I've cheated two Christians, thought Moll with a grin, 
 And how mad the Jew Doctor wou'd be, did he know. 
 That half his inside was hogs liver and crow. 
 
 Deny down. 
 
 Soon a dame, grown with Plethora red in the face, 
 
 Call'd the three Doctors in to consult on her case, 
 
 They withdrew with great pomp, and said, damn it, let's 
 
 cup her — 
 But what news since we all met at Newark at supper. 
 
 Derry down. 
 
 Doctor Calomel whisper'd I can't understand. 
 
 Since we came from the North, what can ail my right hand. 
 
 Not content with its fee, as I walk in the street, 
 
 Ecod it dives into the pockets of all that I meet. 
 
 Derry down. 
 
 My disorder, cries Fingerfee, claims more remark, 
 I never can close my right eye in the dark. 
 And so watchful I grow, that last night in my house, 
 I jumpt out of bed from my wife at a mouse. 
 
 Deny down. 
 
 Cries Isaacs, dear friends, dis don't matter von dam. 
 You see, my dear brothers, how dirty I am, 
 'Tis a vonderful ting dat I cant pass a slough. 
 But I rolls myself in it just like an old sow. 
 
 Derry down. 
 
 Drink success to the Learned of fam*d Warwick Lane, 
 Lest they think that their skill by this joke was profane ; 
 Doctors' great hands and eyes are good emblems well taken. 
 And hogs liver and crow very oft save our bacon. 
 
 Derry down. 
 
 But returning to the old fat gentleman, you must know 
 that the merry party about him roused him from a sort of 
 lethargy, which the breaking of the spring had thrown him 
 into, and his countenance began to brighten up. — " Ua, ha, 
 ha!" says he, " very droll ! very good! very funny! Hike 
 
 E 2 
 
52 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 a good joke as well as any body, and I'll amuse you a little 
 as the day-light is coming on, for I'll pull out my book 
 shortly, and if I don't make you laugh heartily at my cross 
 readings say I'm as dull as a post, and so he was, for he no 
 sooner puU'd the book out than he fell into a profound 
 sleep. 
 
 But talking of cross-reading, reminds me of a singular 
 character I once met with in the north of England, particu- 
 larly at York, well known by the name of Fond Barney, 
 who used to gain his bread by the double occupation of 
 calling the prisoners at the Assizes and the horses at the 
 race time ; but an additional cup, in which he was very fond 
 of indulging, weakening the little resison he possessed, he 
 used to jumble Judges and Jockeys, horses and prisoners 
 together, making it a jail delivery in order to win a heat, 
 and flogging a horse by order of a bench of Justices ; and 
 when he was intoxicated, could not very well recollect 
 what the paper in his hand alluded to, which accounts for 
 the following curious jumble : — Here's the true and particular 
 account of all the running horses, all the running horses — 
 that's now confined in Owsebury Jail, with the names of 
 the horses and the colours of the riders. — Here's the list of 
 all the pris'nersin the castle — with my Lord Judges charge 
 to the Grand Jury — and how they come in these three 
 days. Here's an account of the celebrated horse, Cock- 
 fighter, how he run over the Newmarket course in three mi- 
 nutes and a half — and how he is to be hung in chains on 
 Monday, pursuant to his sentence. Here's an account of 
 the celebrated horse Hambletonian, who beat Diamond 
 over the Newmarket course — with the copy of a letter he 
 wrote his wife the night before his execution. 
 
 As we passed along, a mean looking barn met our view, 
 with a temporary staircase leading to a sort of loft, over 
 which was written Theatre, and here I understood from the 
 coachman, a company of Comedians had been surprising the 
 natives — and the appearance of this establishment was the 
 cause of changing the conversation entirely to theatricals ; 
 so while we were talking of Macklin, Garrick, Weston, 
 Quin, Foot, Ross, and Woodward ; a shabby genteel look- 
 ing man came up and put a written bill into the coach- 
 window with' 'Arrah my masters, won't you come and have 
 a peep at the play to-night — and sure there's a note at the 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 63 
 
 bottom of the bill, which says, if you can*t read it — that 
 I'll be after doing it for you." We perceived in an instant 
 that he was an Hibernian, and well I remembered him — I 
 knew him in Ireland where he was an actor ; but on ac- 
 count of his extreme popensity for drinking he was never 
 entrusted with more than a message. He was one day in 
 a public-house enjoying himself, when the prompter's boy 
 brought him a part written as follows: — 
 
 Act I. — Scene II. — At " behold he comes — go on to the 
 king, P. S. shake head and come off." The actor thought 
 he could certainly do that, though he should be never so 
 drunks as there was nothing to say. He attended at the 
 side — heard his cue — then ran on the stage to the king — 
 catchedhim by the collar — shook the king's head, until his 
 hat and wig fell off, and then retired. The actor following, 
 could not smother his laughter. The prompter abused him 
 for his error, but he conteded he was right according to the 
 words of the part ; " for," said he, " as it only expressed 
 shake head, I surely had a right to my choice, which head I 
 should make use of." 
 
 This turned the jest completely upon Irishmen and 
 Irishisms, in which our former sleepy friend and the fat old 
 gentleman played first fiddle, till we were interrupted by 
 the French gentleman, who declared that he did not think 
 we were so much more great as de Irish, for we never did 
 translate at all veil, but lose, and lose, and turn every thing 
 into nonsense absolute. 
 
 I, for civilities sake, gave him his own way, and told him 
 he was perfectly right, and in order to convince him that 
 he was so, I would show him in what manner the French 
 would translate the song of " A cobbler there was and he 
 lived in a btall" into English, he thanked me most politely, 
 and I proceeded thus : — 
 
 A COBLB,ER THERE WAS. 
 
 A cobbler there was, and he lived in a stall. 
 
 Which served him for parlour, house, kitchen, and every 
 
 thing else ; 
 Without any money, he did'nt care a farthing. 
 For he was not very proud, for he kept no servant at all. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 e3 
 
54 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 But love, the disturber of high and the low. 
 That sport at the peasant, as well as de fine gentleman . 
 By gar he shot the poor cobbler right through de heart, 
 I wish in my soul he hit him any where else. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 It was from a cellar the archer did play. 
 Where a beautiful damsel lay fast asleep ; 
 Her eyes were so bright when she got up in de morning. 
 She shot the poor cobbler on de other side of de way. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 He sung her love songs, as he sat at his work. 
 But she was as hard as a jew or an infidel ; 
 Whenever he spoke she would flounce and would flee 
 Which drove the poor cobbler right to destruction.? 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 So he took every ting up he had in de world. 
 To make an end of himself he was determined ; 
 He pierced through the body as well as de soul. 
 So the poor cobbler died, and the bell ring at de church. 
 
 Deny down, &c. 
 
 So now in good will, I advise as a friend, 
 AH cobblers take warning at this poor cobbler's mis- 
 fortune. 
 Keep your hearts out of love, for you see what has 
 
 happen'd. 
 Death brings us all to an end at the last. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 '^ Monsieur was in a passion, and said, " Sair, you ridi- 
 cule de great nation, by your say dat ve do translate bad 
 English into good — you wrong-a-me, and I would challenge 
 you to fight, but vat, I must go see my wife and family, 
 dat are now at Paris ; but you stop here till I come back, 
 and I will shoot you dead, bang all to pieces, and not leave 
 no bit of you, dat shall be in one piece at all V 
 
 Luckily this business was put a stop to, for a Yorkshire- 
 man saluted the guard of the coach with " I say, Mr. 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 55 
 
 Guard, have you a gentleman for Lunnun in coach ?"— 
 " How should I know," said the guard : " Well," said he, 
 *' I am ganging about four miles whoam, and I'll gang in- 
 side, if you please, and then I can find him out mysen." 
 On being admitted into the coach, when seated, he address- 
 ed himself to the person opposite him, and said, " Pray, 
 sir, ayn't you for Lunnun 1" — " Yes,'* said the gentleman, 
 " Pray, sir, ayn't you summut at singing line ?" — " What 
 makes you ask V said the gentleman. " I hope no de- 
 fence," said he. — " Why, sir, you must know, I'm building 
 a mill, and in about three weeks I mean to have a sort of 
 house-warming, and as we are very musical in our parts, I 
 play on fiddle at church mysen, and my brother plays on a 
 great long thing like a horse's leg, painted, with a piece of 
 brass crook stuck in the end, and puflPs away like a pig in 
 a fit ; and as we have a vast of music meetings, and those 
 sort of things, I should like to open my mill with an ora- 
 torio, and wanted to ax you to come and sing at it," He 
 then related a family anecdote: — "You must know, sir, 
 said he, *' that my father died all of a sudden like, and 
 never gave any body notice he was going to die, and he left 
 his family in complete profusion, and when I found he was 
 dead, and as I was eldest son, I thought I had right to have 
 all the money. I told neighbour so ; but he said, that 
 though I was eldest son I had no right to all th' brass ; but 
 I said that I was not only eldest, but handsomest into the 
 bargain ; for you never seed five such ugly, carroty-headed 
 devils among any litter of pigs as my five brothers and 
 sisters ; and as I found they wanted to diddle me out of my 
 internal estate, I was determined to take the law at top 
 of the regicides. " And you applied to counsel, no doubt," 
 said the gentleman. — " Na I didn't," said he, " for I don't 
 know him. I went to one lawyer Lattitat, and paid him 
 six and eight-pence all in good half-pence, who wrote me 
 down my distructions." The gentleman read his distructioiis 
 as he called them, which ran as follows : — " You must go 
 to the Temple and apply to a civilian, and tell him that 
 your father has died intestate, or without a will ; that he 
 has left five children, all infantine, besides yourself; and 
 that you have come to know if you can't be his executor." 
 " Well," said the gentleman, " what did you dol" — 
 " Why, sir," said he, " I went to Temple and knock'd at 
 
66 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 door, and the gentleman cum'd out at door himsen ; and I 
 said — Pray, sir, arn't you a silly villain ? and he ax'd me if 
 I war cum'd to insult him ; and I said yes, I partly cum'd 
 on purpose. I cume to insult you to know what I am to do, 
 for my feyther has died detested and against his will, he has 
 left five young infidels besides mysen, and I've cum'd to 
 know if I can't be his executioner^^ 
 
 As time was flying fast, and every one began to feel a dis- 
 position for refreshment, the greatest anxiety prevailed to 
 reach that spot where hot rolls, boiled eggs, beef, ham, 
 tea, coffee, and the &c.'s were upon the table crying come 
 and eat me. 
 
 When the coach stopp'd at the inn where we were to 
 breakfast and change horses, a little dialogue passed be- 
 tween the guard and ostler, on the state of the weather ; 
 when the guard said, "Well , Dick, how do you get on?" 
 " I don't know," said the ostler, " I'm tarnation bad; I'm 
 quite out of all heart about the weather — tarnation sight of 
 wet weather we do have in these parts." " Why, I don't 
 suppose you have more than other people." " I don't 
 know how much other people have, but we have a tarruition 
 sight here — we never have no fine days, never ; I've had a 
 wet jacket every day, I do declare, as I have been chang- 
 ing these horses — we arn't had a fine day this two years ; 
 no, I'll take my Bible oath we arn't had a fine day this two 
 years." " Well," said the guard, " can you tell the cause 
 of it?" — "No," said he, "I can't tell, it's as much as I 
 can do to guess ; but I recollect hearing a curious thing 
 two gentlemen said on the coach yesterday — I can't rightly 
 tell what it meant, but well know what they said ; one was 
 out-side and t'other in-side : so, one said to the other, 
 ' what a nation sight of wet weather we do have ; I'm qaite 
 wet through to the skin, can you tell the -cause of it ?' — 
 ' Yes, *saidthe other, 'you must know.that the North Pole 
 be broken, and that we have sent out an exhibition to mend 
 it; and, until that North Pole be mended, we shan't have 
 any more fine weather, you may depend upon it.' 
 
 At this inn I met several of n)y old friends of Theatrical 
 notoriety, one of whom I will endeavour to introduce io 
 you, whose fame as an actor is for ever stamp'd on the heart 
 and mind of every admirer of the art he so justly has chosen. 
 And believe, diffident as I am in imitating him (if I can at 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 57 
 
 all do so — and show half the nature he does whenever he i» 
 call'd into action) I shall be liberally rewarded for my 
 pains. 
 
 IN IMITATION OF A CELEBRATD PERFORMER, 
 
 (KNIGHT.) 
 
 As I wur ganging last Sat'day neet to buy half-a-pound 
 o'bakon, who shou'd I meet but my old sweetheart, Betty 
 Hunt, un she said, " aye, Richard,, be that thou," unl said, 
 "ees, sure it be," un she said, " Richard, wudn't thee be 
 ganging to Hickleton Vair at morrow V and I said, " I 
 nowd'nt not, haply I mought," and Betty la'aught ; and I 
 said, " I wou'd," and I did, and I went to Hickleton Vair. 
 And so in the morning I gotten up and putten on my best 
 shoen, cloggen shoen ware out at fashion then, and I went 
 clink ma clank, clink ma clank all t'way to townend, and 
 vurst I seed were Betty standing at her Vather's door, wi* 
 two chaps hanging on either haarm, un I felt all over in 
 sike a conflagration, all ma blood gotten into ma knuckles — 
 oh, I'd a nation good mind to gi'en a bat o' t' chops, for 
 Betty took na notice of me ; so I stared at her, but she 
 minded not I — so I nudged her at elbow, un she said, 
 ** aye, Richard, be that thou V and I said, " ees, sure it 
 be ;" and she said, " Richard, woudn't the come int* 
 house," and I said " ees, I wou'd," and I did, and I went 
 int' house ; and there were a vary many people, vary many 
 indeed, and Betty said, " Richard, wou'dn't thee have a 
 drap o' sum'mat t' drink V and I said, " ees, I would." 
 and I did, and I had a drap o' summit t' drink, and I la'- 
 afd, and wur vary merry, vary merry indeed : and Betty 
 said, " Richard, wou'dn't thee sing us a songl" and I said,. 
 ** ees, I would,'* and I did, and chaunted a steave — 
 
 The clock had struck, I can*t tell what. 
 But the morn came on as grey as a rat ; 
 The cocks and hens from their roosts did fly. 
 Grunting pigs, too, had left their stye. 
 
 Down in a vale. 
 
 Carrying a pail. 
 Cicely was met by her true love Harry j 
 
 Vurst they kiss't, 
 
 Then shook fist. 
 And look'd like two fools just going to marry. 
 
58 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 Aye, I remember vary weel that wur the vurst song I 
 ever sung Betty Hunt, and she said, '*thee'd sing us 
 another song, wou'dn't theel" and I said, " ees, I wou'd," 
 and I did, and 1 sang'd another song — aye, I remember 
 vary weel that wur the last song I ever sung poor Betty ; 
 un at last I said, " I must be ganging, Betty," and she 
 said, "well, when thee wo't, Richard, when thee wo't ;" 
 and I said, "thee'd cum and see ma sum'at way whoam," 
 and she said she would, and she did, and she see'd me a 
 bit'ut way — all the way to townend; and 1 said Betty, 
 " thee'd gi' us a buss, wou'dn't thee," and she said, ees, 
 she wouM, and she did, and she giv'd me a buss. " Weel, 
 Betty, thee't let me cum and see thee at morrow nee't," 
 and she said, *' an thee wo't, Richard: so I gang mysen 
 whoam and gotten to bed, and went at morrow neet to 
 meet Betty ^ — eight o'clock and na Betty — nine o'clock, ten 
 o'clock and na Betty — eleven, twelve o'clock, and na 
 Betty ; so I tho't I'd gang mysen whoam ; so in the morn- 
 ing I were told poor Betty wur vary badly, vary badly 
 indeed, and she had sent to see ma ; so I went to see poor 
 Betty, and she said, ** Richard, if I shou'd dee, thee'd goo 
 to ma burying, wou'dn't thee V and I said, I now'dnt not, 
 haply I mought, so I said I wou'd, and I did, and I went 
 to her burying, for poor Betty deed ; and I ne'er goo 
 through Hickleton churchyard without droping a tear to the 
 memory of poor Betty Hunt. 
 
 The breakfast being over, and the horses being once more 
 put-to, we rattled through a town where preparations were 
 being made for the annual fair ; this, in the country, is ge- 
 nerally a scene of merriment as well as convenience : our 
 Bartholomew fair in London is a scene of merriment, but 
 what can be said for its convenience — at that merry time, 
 when London and its purlieus, high and low, rich and 
 pour, flock away to the carnival at SmitJifield ; what would 
 a grave German ambassador, or sanctified field preacher 
 say, were he to pass through one of these scenes of riot 
 and confusion, to have his ears saluted with the following 
 variety of sounds : — 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 69 
 
 BARTHOLOMEW FAIR O! 
 
 Come bustle neighbour Sprig, 
 Buckle on your hat and wig- ; 
 In our Sunday clothes so gaily. 
 Let us strut up the Old Bailey j 
 O the Devil take the rain, 
 We may never go again. 
 See the shows have begun, O rare, O ! 
 
 How full's the Fair, — Lord Mayor, 
 
 All is flurry, — Hurry skurry. 
 
 Girls squalling-, — Showmen bawling, 
 
 Cats throwing, — Trumpets blowing. 
 
 Rattles springing, — Monkies grinning. 
 
 Rope dancing, — Horses prancing. 
 
 Sausage frying, — Children crying. 
 
 Dogs of Knowledge, — Come from College, 
 
 Slack wire,— Eating fire. 
 
 Learned Pigs, — Rum rigs. 
 
 Mutton Pies, — Of pigmy size. 
 
 Funny Clowns, — Ups-and-downs 
 
 Round-about, — All-out, 
 
 What a throng, — Push along, 
 
 Just in time, — That's prime ! 
 
 (Spciken) — Valk up, valk up, Ladies and Gentlemen ; here 
 is the vonderful birds and beastesses just arrived from Ben- 
 gal in the Vest Ingies — only look Marm at this here beau- 
 tiful hanimal, no less than two hundred spots on his body, 
 no two of them his alike, and every one of them his diffe- 
 rent ; it would puzzle any limner or painter to describe 
 this wonderful hanimal : — measures only 12 feet from the 
 snout to the tail, and 15 feet from the tail to the snout ; — 
 stir him up with a long pole, keeper. 
 
 Hey down, &c, &c. 
 
 When the Fair is at the full. 
 In gallops a mad bull. 
 Put's the rabble to the rout, 
 Lets all the Lions out ; 
 
60 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 Down falls Mrs. Snip, 
 
 With a Monkey on her hip. 
 We shall all be swallowed up, I declare, O! 
 Roaring- boys, — Gilded Toys, 
 Lollipops, — Shilling hops. 
 Tumble in, — Just begin. 
 Cups and balls, — Wooden walls. 
 Gin and bitters, — Apple fritters. 
 Pudding nice, — Penny a slice. 
 Shins of beef, — Stop thief, 
 Lost hats, — Squalling- brats, 
 Lost shoes, — Kangaroos, 
 O Polly,— Where's Molly, 
 Bow wow, — What a row ! 
 
 (^Spoken.) — Here, here, valk up, Ladies and Gentlemen ; 
 here is the vonderful Kangaroo just arrived from Bottomly 
 Bay ! — Here is the vonderful large monkey that played at 
 leap frog vith the celebrated Muster Harrington. Here'*s 
 the vonderful Eagle of the Sun, the hotter it is, the higher 
 he flies ; there's the vonderful Cow, that can't live alive in 
 the land, and dies in the vater. — I suppose you think that 
 animal alive, but he's no more alive than you. — Walk up 
 and see the wonderful Elephant ; this is what the vulgar 
 call a trunk, but what we calls the preposterance. 
 
 Hey down, &c« 
 
 Now the Beast with hungry tooth. 
 In anger 'tacks the booth ; 
 Away affrighted run 
 Birds and Eagles of the Sun ; 
 Down tumbles trot legged RoUa, 
 Who tipps 'em the hue hollo. 
 Poor Cora's in the mud, O rare O ! 
 
 (Spoken) — Walk up and see the great Yorkshire Giant 
 who measures seven feet eight inches high — grows three 
 inches every year, and it is supposed he never will come to 
 his full growth. — Walk up and see the Wooden Roscius, 
 the celebrated Mr. Punch ; how do you do Mr. Punch? — 
 Hallorbeala, &c, (imUates Punch.) 
 
 Hey down 6cc, 
 
MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 61 
 
 MR. MATHEWS'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 
 
 Mr. Mathews concluded his novel undertaking- on the 
 16th of June, after having for forty nights drawn together 
 more than 60,000 persons, to witness his performance. 
 
 After his imitations, Mr. Mathews came forward, and 
 the tumultuous applause with which he was greeted having 
 somewhat subsided, he addressed the audience in the fol- 
 lowing manner:— 
 
 ** Ladies and Gentlemen, 
 
 *' I now come to the only painful part of my exertions— 
 that of bidding you farewell. So entirely have the great 
 patent theatres exhausted the language of self-commenda- 
 tion, that they have left me no choice of terms that can 
 express my gratitude for * overflowing and brilliant audi- 
 ences ;' ' rapturous, unanimous, and unbounded applause ;* 
 ' roars of laughter ;' * unqualified approbation ;' and * un- 
 precedented success.' I must therefore content myself 
 with offering in less pompous, but not less sincere, phrase- 
 ology, the humble tribute of my heartfelt thanks. Accept, 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, this homely but genuine expres- 
 sion of my feelings, and believe that it will be the proudest 
 recollection of my life, that during the course of forty 
 evenings' entertainments, 1 have been honoured not only 
 with full houses, but also by your approbation and applause. 
 The question, whether I had done wisely in leaving the 
 boards of what are called the regular theatres, and which 
 was some time problematical, is now decided, and I may 
 say (without more vanity than your encouragement will 
 fully justfy) is decided in my favour, I now, therefore, 
 quit the metropolis with the cheering and flattering hope 
 that I shall be again welcomed on my return next spring, 
 with new matter and new subjects for your amusement. 
 
 " I am aware. Ladies and Gentlemen, and it is fit you 
 should be aware also, that very serious efforts have been 
 made by the proprietors and managers of the winter the- 
 atres to drive me from this asylum ; and, as I had de- 
 clined to eat their bread, for which I had lost all relish, 
 they wished to deprive me of the means of eating any 
 
 F 
 
62 THBATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 bread at all, at least, so it appears. At all events, they 
 iiave- certainly envied, and endeavoured to prevent my 
 reaping that plentiful harvest, which has ripened in the 
 sunshine of your favour. But this I beg to state distinctly, 
 that vhile I am advised that my performances are within 
 the strict letter of the law, no fear shall deter me from pro- 
 ceeding ; and that I will resist strenuously and firmly any 
 measures that may be pursued to support an unjust mono- 
 poly to my injury ; and that I shall double all the energies 
 of my resistance, from the recollection that I am contend- 
 ing in the cause of the public, who ought not to be curtailed 
 of their lawful amusements, or to be told by patentees, 
 * if you won't come and laugh with us, you shall not go to 
 laugh elsewhere.' That I shall make you laugh again and 
 again, I sincerely hope, and though I must choose a mer- 
 rier subject than patent theatres and monopoly, I do not 
 doubt that I shall have the cordial satisfaction of meeting 
 again next year as many smiling faces as have graced this 
 theatre for the last forty nights that I have had the honour 
 and happiness of receiving you ' at home/ With feelings 
 of the most heartfelt gratitude, I respectfully take my 
 leave." 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 This Entertainment, prepared for public attention, 
 at a period when " France" was all the rage, was 
 sufficient to stamp it a favourite with the public, and 
 amply repaid Mr. Mathews for the trouble he had 
 taken to gratify them. 
 
 With the same sort of properties, the table, lamps, 
 piano, and a few trifling necessaries, the perfor- 
 mance commenced before a crowded audience, and 
 continued to do so during the time that Mr. Mathews 
 had the honour of opening the Theatre Royal 
 English Opera House, for public patronage and 
 support. 
 
 REASONS FOR QUITTING LONDON. 
 
 It is the plan of tourists, in general, to arrange their 
 observations on their travels, under the several heads of 
 history, character, religion, politics, law, minerals, fossils, 
 birds, beasts, fish, rivers, nature, plants, amusements, &c. 
 &c. I own I like this, it has an imposing appearance, and 
 has sold many lumbering quartos ; and the system is not so 
 much damaged, but it may perhaps also serve me. My 
 visitors may naturally expect to go home something wiser 
 than they came ;yet, after all, it is most likely that those I 
 see before me, came more for amusement than instruction ; 
 taking this for granted, I shall thin down the list most 
 r 2 
 
64 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 amazingly, as I never travelled to find whether a certain 
 inaccessible mountain was a few inches higher, or a few 
 feet lower than is generally believed, or whether a certain 
 earth within four leagues of the kingdom of Quinkham 
 Quankum Quibo, in South America, is of a blueish green, 
 or of a greenish blue ; but, I generally found, that what- 
 ever pains were taken to ascertain, it was allowed on all 
 hands to be not worth more than three -pence a cart-load. 
 More humble in my enterprises, I determined on a Trip 
 TO Paris, and shall, therefore, proceed to relate what I 
 gleaned by the way of character and anecdote on my ad- 
 ventures and mis-adventures, that occurred to me personal 
 and impersonal, in the course of my tour, and hope to be 
 able to give an hour or two's amusement to my friends I 
 find here at home :— 
 
 Passing along Piccadilly, I saw my old acquaintance 
 Mrs. Dory, the fishmonger's wife, who, with a green 
 flower-pot in her red fist was complimenting divers oysters, 
 muscles, eels, brills, &c. with a refreshing shower-bath, 
 ** Good morning, Mrs. Dory ; how goes trade?" — " Good 
 morning, sir," says she j " want any fish to-day ?" at the 
 same time catching up a fine large black lobster, by the 
 nape of the neck, to the no small annoyance of a young 
 screaming female passenger. " There, sir, there's a beauty, 
 that's what I call prime." — " Prime, indeed, I should not 
 like to attack his claws, Mrs. Dory." — " Yes, sir, that's a 
 beauty ; that's as fine a lobster as ever flap'd his tail on a slab 
 of marble." — " Is it, Mrs, Dory 1" — " Yes, sir, I begs par- 
 don, but I should think you are not aware of oar new 
 honours." — " No, what is it — what has happened since I 
 saw you last?" — " Why, sir, you must know my husband 
 has been newly knighted, and he is now Sir Dogberry 
 Dory, knight, citizen, and fishmonger ; and I am Lady 
 Dory, sir, at your service."—" Indeed ! I give you joy." — ' 
 " Yes, sir, I don't know how they did it ; but there was a 
 whole phalanx of them went up from Fishmongers' Hall, 
 
 to St. James's, and my husband he carried up *' 
 
 " What, a sturgeon!" — " No, an address ; and there he was 
 made a 'bright on." " Indeed ! I wish all honours were as 
 meritoriously earned. Well, to speak corrected, how is 
 the knight, is he well?" — "Yes, sir, charmingly thankee ; 
 he was very well, when I heard from hira last." — " Heard 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 65 
 
 from him last, is he out of town ?" — ** Bless you, no ; he's 
 out of the country, he's gone to Paris, and when he comes 
 back, then I goes, for its all the go, and nobody thinks no- 
 thing of any body unless they goes among the Mounseers 
 and lame to Parlivoo a little." 
 
 " I have been to Brighton, I have been to Worthing, to 
 Hastings, to Bath, to Bristol, and I don't know where else 
 besides — but I've never been to that dear little France, 
 where they fought the battle of Waterloo, before Bonaparte 
 was sent to Elba — but I will go — that I will — for I very 
 much wants to see foreign outlandish parts, and learn how 
 to gabble French among the Fishmongers. Pray, sir, can 
 you inform me if there is any salt water in France — or, 
 whether Paris is any thing at all like Margate — I suppose, 
 sir, you've been to Margate 1" 
 
 I replied, •' Certainly, madam, I have, and with per- 
 mission I'll give you a description of my voyage thither :— 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Standing one summer^s day on the tower slip. 
 Careless how I my time should employ. 
 
 It popp'd in my head that I'd take a trip 
 A board of a Margate Hoy. 
 
 1 took a few slops, such as shirts and a coat. 
 For of prog 1 knew well they'd be stor'd 
 
 When I hail'd a pair of oars, shov'd off my boat, 
 And awayl dash'd a-board. 
 
 (Spoken.) Ah, Commodore, who thought of seeing you. 
 " What, Mrs. Garbage, how is the Alderman V — " There is 
 my husband, sir," — " Pon my word, and Dickey, I declare. 
 Give me leave, commodore to introduce you to my friends. 
 Mr. Sadrach, Commodore Kelson ; Commodore Kelson, 
 Mr. Shadrach." — " Very much at your sharvice, sir." — 
 Miss Minikin, Commodore Kelson ; Commodore Kelson, 
 Miss Minikin."— " Very happy to have the pleasure of 
 F 3 
 
66 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 knowing you, sir." — Dr. Quibus, Commodore Kelson ; 
 Commodore Kelson, Dr. Quibus, Capt Squash, Sir Phelim 
 O'Drogeda." — "Hallo there I Cast off the painter — sit 
 stiJl ladies and gentlemen. 
 
 Then off we went with a flowing jibb. 
 
 Full of meriment and joy. 
 The Alderman munching and pratling his rib. 
 Sing who so blithe as we. 
 Who take a voyage to sea. 
 On board of a Margate Hoy. 
 
 Then such glee and humour, our joy to prolong, 
 
 Pervaded us fore and aft ; 
 Some were telling a story, some whistling a song. 
 
 As we turned in and out 'mongst the craft ; 
 Then we'd talk of our danger, and then we were gay. 
 
 Then how we'd astonish the folks. 
 When at Margate arrived, then cut out of our way. 
 
 To laugh at the watermen's jokes. 
 
 " Ho, the ship a-hoy." — " Ay, ay." — " Pray have you 
 one Wiseman aboard.' — " No, no," — " Then you are all 
 fools, hey." Ha, ha, ha, went Miss Minnikin. " Dat is 
 very coot chokes," said the Jew. — " Why, I say, Moses," 
 said the man that was affronted, *' are you a bull or bear, 
 damme, I thinks you look more like a monkey. And you 
 Miss Dolly Drylips, take a reef in your perriwig, and clap 
 a stopper on your muzzle, clue up the plaits in your jaw 
 bags, and give your tongue leave of absence. About ship. 
 Helm's a-lee, here she comes." 
 
 So we made t'other tack and lay gunnel-to, 
 
 Which soon gave a damp to our joy. 
 Miss Minnikin squalled, mine cot, cried the Jew, 
 
 Sing who so blithe as we. 
 
 Who take a voyage to sea. 
 On board of a Margate Hoy. 
 
 The company's merriment now out of joint. 
 And their tatlers not moving so quick. 
 
 Scarce right a-head did we twig Cuckold's Point, 
 But the Alderman began to be sick : 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 67 
 
 Then we'd like to fall foul of an oyster smack. 
 The wind stretching towards the Nore, 
 
 Then stretching too far on the larboard tack, 
 By and by we came bump ashore. 
 
 *' Ah we shall all be cast away, my poor dear pattern cap 
 cashed away. What shall I do to be shaved?" — "Why 
 faith," said I, "I fancy we shall have a touch of the salt 
 water before we get to Margate." " Yes, sir,' said the 
 doctor, " not that I have any quarrel with death, but I am 
 afraid we shall take in too large a dose." — " How do you 
 do, Sir Phelim." — '* Arrah, I should be well enough if I 
 was not cursedly sick." She rights, she rights. 
 
 Next a gale coming on we did preciously kick. 
 
 Which finished completely our joy, 
 'Twas, madam, how do you do 1 — Oh I am monstrous 
 sick. 
 Sing who so blithe as we. 
 Who take a voyage to sea,. 
 Aboard of a Margate Hoy. 
 
 And now 'twould have made a philosopher grin. 
 
 To have seen a concourse of nuns, 
 Sick as death, wet as muck, from the heel to the chin. 
 
 For it came on to blow great guns : 
 Spoilt cloathes and provisions, now clogg'd up the 
 way, 
 
 In a dreary boisterous night : 
 While apparently dead every passenger lay, 
 
 With the sickness, but more with the fright. 
 
 (^Spokeii) Oh, oh, I wish I was at home in my bed !"— 
 " Oh that I was a hundred miles off."—" Massby upon my 
 shins !" — " Oh, oh, will nobody throw me overboard." — 
 " Avast there !" — " Ah my poor dear pattern cap's blown 
 into the pond."^ — " Oh my soul, what a devil of a sickness." 
 — " Arrah stop the ship — sir, would you be so kind as to 
 be after handing me the caudle cup V Land, land, upon 
 the starboard bow. 
 
68 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 At last after turning on two or three tacks, 
 Margate lights soon restored all our joy ; 
 The men found their stomachs, the women their clacks, 
 ■Sing who so blithe as we. 
 Who take a voyage to sea. 
 Aboard of a Margate Hoy. 
 
 Having thus gratified the old lady with an account of 
 my adventures to Margate, I wished her a good day — 
 hoped her husband might return safe and stroU'd along 
 Piccadilly, in order to find out if any thing fresh was 
 stirring. 
 
 I had not walked far before I met an old schoolfellow, 
 whose appearance did not bespeak him in the most exalted 
 state ; still he approached me with the greatest familiarity, 
 took me by the hand, and told mc he was devilish glad to 
 see me. 
 
 " How now, Harry," says I, " Is any thing the matter V 
 
 "Poor! Poor! my dear fellow ! very poor! — Can't help 
 it — then I thought I could face any thing, but I can't — I am 
 the most unfortunate dog on the face of the earth — had a 
 good opportunity offered me of entering life a,nd' still I am 
 ruined in my hopes — lost for ever — I'll tell you all about it. 
 
 " I am naturally of an impudent and brazen disposition, 
 but a considerable portion of my confidence is owing partly, 
 as I conceive, to my associating with fifth-rate actors, who 
 Tisit the O. P. the Harp, the Coal Hole, and many other 
 places of famous Theatrical resort ; yet, notwithstanding 
 these superior advantages, I still find that there's nothing 
 so distressing to a young man, as his first introduction to 
 polished society. 1 remember well the torments I suffered, 
 the confusion I underwent, the first time I sat at the table 
 of the great J there every question threw me into disorder, 
 and every answer covered me with blushes. Oh ! the de- 
 light of dining off alamode-beef, in a garret, where, if I 
 accidentally spilt the salt, I care not for the invidious 
 looks of stiff-rump'd Abigails of quality ; and if, unex- 
 pectedly, my platter falls into my lap, I feel no confusion 
 at the oleaginous moisture that saturates my lower ex- 
 tremities. 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 69 
 
 " Last summer a cousin of mine, a lady of the most ac- 
 complished manners, came to London, at the pressing in- 
 vitation of several persons of distinction. I escorted her 
 all day about the town, and in the evening attended her 
 to the mansion of Sir Blubber Spindleshanks, at the west 
 end of the metropolis. At her desire, I gave a thunder- 
 ing rap at the door, which was immediately opened by a 
 smart dapper fellow, in a rich livery, who conducted us 
 into the great hall, where there was in waiting five or six 
 more of his party-coloured brethren, who made several 
 low bows as we passed by them. Unused to the formali- 
 ties of high life, I returned their courtesy v/ith all the ci- 
 vility imaginable, bending my body politely to my knee ; 
 but as I was making my last and best bow, the cook unex 
 pectedly crossed the hall behind me, with a large tureen 
 full of soup ; and, as my head was bent very much for- 
 ward, my posteriors gave him such an unlucky drive, as 
 made him measure his length, tureen and all, on the ground. 
 This accident, you may be sure, occasioned a general roar. 
 I stood transfixed, substituting a thousand grimaces for 
 apologies. At length, my cousin, who was confoundedly 
 vexed at the ignorance of my behaviour, took me forcibly 
 by my sleeve, towards the great stair- case, 1 had not pro- 
 ceeded above half-way, when my ears were saluted with, 
 * Sir, will you leave your hat in the halH' To tell you 
 the truth, 1 was ashamed of my hat, it was so confoundedly 
 shabby, for I have had it three years come next Michael- 
 mas. I thought I should have had an opportunity of 
 putting it unperceived beneath the great dining table. 
 However, as there was no alternative, I gave it him with 
 the like timidity as a person offers a shilling- that he knows 
 to be bad. He received it as if the touch was offensive, 
 at the same time giving it a significant twirl, said, he 
 would take particular care of it for me. I felt the keen- 
 ness of the satire, tor it is the curse of poverty to be the 
 jest of footmen and chambermaids. I thought I had now 
 fairly got rid of him, but he had another demand to umkc, 
 which overwhelmed me at once with confusion and blushes 
 — by Saint Paul, he requested my gaiters (alledging it was 
 a diniiCr party) — my gaiters that covered my darnei! and 
 dirty stockings, how could I comply! I thought 1 should 
 have died, and actually should have given up the ghost, 
 
70 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 had not my cousin interposed, who, no doubt, suspected 
 the truth, said it was unnecf ssary, as our visit would not 
 be of l»".)g duration. At Iciig^th our names were aunounced, 
 and we entered the dining room. There was a large party 
 sitting down to dinner; my cousin went round the most of 
 them with that degree of familiarity, which always accom- 
 panies good breeding, and a lung acquaintance with the 
 g;reat. For my part, I stood transfixed, like the figure of 
 Procris, in the painted cloth, for there was not the least 
 notice taken of me, till my cousin had ])aid her round of 
 compliments. When I was asked to sit down, and pick a 
 little bit, I complid with this long wished-for request, and 
 ■was glad of an opportunity to hide my gaiters, and satisfy 
 my ravenous appetite. 1 therefore took my seat between 
 Sir Blubber Spindleshanks and his lady, who kindly helped 
 me to a leg of goose, and asked me if it was to my palate. 
 I did not like to say noj but to tell you the truth, I'd as 
 leave be d' -d as pick a bone in company. However, I 
 fell-to with a very good appetite ; but, as I was cutting a 
 nice bit of brown, which I am remarkably fond of, at the 
 extremity of the bone, my fork gave it an unlucky twist, 
 right into the boot of Sir Blubber Spindleshanks, and the 
 contents of my plate into the lap of his lady; that could I 
 have found an opportunity, I would have rush'd out of 
 the room with pleasure, for I was petrified at this unex- 
 pected disaster. The whole company was in confusion. 
 Sir Blubber was amazed — his lady almost in a s.voon at 
 spoiling her dress, because nobody had a pattern like it ; 
 and my cousin was shocked at the stdftidity of my beha- 
 viour. After the first tumult my awkwardness had thrown 
 the company into had subsided, they enquired, and hoped 
 Sir Blubber and his lady were not hurt ? " Oh no ?" said 
 Spindleshanks, who was a very fat man, with thin legs ; 
 indeed, they resembled two straws dangling about in a chim- 
 ney pot. " Hurt ! by no means : though I have got all in 
 my boot." — " Have yon," rejoined his lady; "then it will 
 help to fill out your calves, you know. Besides, my dear, 
 you wanted a log." This well timed raillery restored good 
 humdur to the company ; and 1 was very likely to finish 
 my meal very agreeably had not the devil, on purpose to 
 torment, given me a most excruciating pain in my bowels. 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 71 
 
 which caused me to leave the room under the most dis- 
 agfreeable circumstances — resolving never to enter high 
 life again. But, my dear friend, having a little money left, 
 lam resolved to visit France." 
 
 I asked him what he meant to do there ? 
 
 ** Do there? — Why, polished society here will not ac- 
 knowledge me because I have nothing French about me, 
 I shall therefore get an order for one of the steam packets 
 from one of my friends — go to Margate — from Margate to 
 Dover ; and from Dover I'll sail to France, visit Paris 
 and then return to surprise the natives of my own country, 
 good morning ! good morning !" 
 
 When he had left me — I met a noble lord, who invited me 
 to dine with him at his house in Grosvenor square, where 
 I met his amiable wife, the lady Elinor — the principal 
 topic was upon travelling, and the point *' France ! 
 France! France!" nothing but France— -Dover and Calais 
 were repeated a thousand times over,and from the Drawing- 
 room to the cobbler's stall, Paris, lovely Paris, seemed to 
 be considered as the metropolis of the world. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Where shall we go for the season, Lady Elinor ! 
 Pray now, do decide, for really I don't know ; 
 Babs all for Brighton, but that, as I've been telling her, 
 Brighton, tho' so high, is now exceeding low : 
 Margate and Ramsgate are full of the city folk, 
 Hastings and Rye are getting quite as bad : 
 Weymouth and Scarboro' are guzzlM by the witty folks. 
 Go where we will the vulgar drives us mad. 
 
 [Spoken) ** O, sliocking ! I wish my lord, you would 
 bring in a bill." — " Bring in a bill my lady, for what ?"— 
 " To prevent the vulgar from following us every where ; it 
 really is quite intolerable; its very hard they will intrude, 
 it almost drives one mad -j we shall not have a place shorty, 
 to hide our heads in ; yet I always contrive not to leave 
 town for the summer season, until the winter sets in.— 
 I've an uncommon good idea." — "What is it?" — " To 
 spend the summer months at Birmingham." — " What do 
 you think of Harrowgate." — " O shocking I last season I 
 was almost elbow'd out of the room by Sir Jeremy Treacle 
 
72 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 and his fat wife." — " Clieltenbam ?" — " Worse ! it's always 
 full, and nobody there." — '* Brighton?" — *' Oh, horrid! I 
 decidedly object to Brig;hton ; you might almost as well be 
 at Bagnigge Wells on a Sunday." — "Aye, I recollect when 
 I was a young man, Brighton used to be about seventy 
 miles from town j but how, what with the plaguy short 
 cuts, and modern improvements, it is now about fifty- 
 four." — *' Well, then, suppose we all go to Paris."— 
 **Pray, Sir Larry, can you tell me how far it is from the 
 coast to the capital ?" — " No, upon my conscience, that I 
 cannot ; you might as well ask me how far it is from the 
 capital to the coast."—" O ! you creature, you know you 
 can, you have been there yoti know." — " Yes, madam, 
 that was before the revolution, and I am told things are 
 plaguily altered since." — " But you can't speak the lan- 
 guage." — " O, leave me aloue for that, I have two bows to 
 my string : Til try 'em with Irish." — " You had belter try 
 them with Spanish ^ that, all ranks comprehend." 
 
 Hey, then away, for Paris is the only place, 
 This very day with spirits light and gay. 
 
 W^here shall we go for the season. Sir Jeremy ? 
 
 Alderman Crump, I see, is setting off for Rye; 
 So, if you think across the Thames to ferry me, 
 
 I vow and declare that at Cripplegate I'll die; 
 Surely the villa at Putney does well I tvow ; 
 
 Yes, once on a time, but now you are a knight. 
 If that's the case, the villa I'll sell I wowy 
 
 Margate, indeed ! you'll kill me with affright. 
 
 (Spoken.) — " Margate, indeed I I wonder you have not 
 more regard for one's quality than mixing and associating 
 with the sparrowgrasses and^ such low people." — ** Why, 
 my lady, you used to be very fond of Margate." — " Yes, 
 Sir Jeremy, that was before you was made a knight of." — 
 " Good morning, Lady Shortdip." " I takes this here 
 wisit wery kind of you, u-ery kind indeed; and how 
 is Sir Christopher, now he is one of us nobility?"— 
 " He's very well, thankee, but he don't go out to-day; 
 this is melting day, and the knight's up to his elbows in 
 tallow."-—*' Indeed, then all the lights he makes now will 
 be niffhf lights, I suppose." — " What do you think of 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 73 
 
 Margate, Lady Shoitdip?" — " Now, what's the use of 
 teasing about our family affairs." — " Why, 1 was going to 
 Hastings, but I understands your friend Mrs. Maggolts is 
 there." — "My friend! she's no friend of mine j we do 
 condescend to sarve thena with grocery, but we don't wisit, 
 I can assure you. No ! no ! her husband's a rank demagog, 
 and now I am a man of title, of course I am an aristagog^ 
 *' The Duchess of Trumps is at the Isle of White." — " In- 
 deed ! then she is the only one of us that is there, for we 
 are all gone to Paris," — " What's the use of going to 
 Paris, spending a mint of money ; besides, we don't un- 
 derstand their lingo/' — " But we can have Dick home from 
 school to interpret for us." — " Aye 5 but what's to be seen 
 there, ay ?" — " Why, there's the King and Mounseer, and 
 the Duchess of Angoulemme, and the goblins and gullo- 
 tine, and grapes for a penny a pound, and champagne in- 
 stead of small beer." — *' Indeed, is there, why. 
 
 Hey, theu away, for Paris is the only place. 
 This very day with spirits light and gay." 
 
 " Where shall we go for the season, Mr. Sparrowgrass, 
 
 This is the season for getting out of town ;" — 
 " Hampstead my dear, to see your Uncle Narrowgrass, 
 Inside the stage, you're there for half-a-crown," — 
 *' Hampstead, indeed ! there's Mrs. Crisps the leaker's 
 wife, 
 Goes every year a dipping in the sea; 
 Even Mrs.Muxe the vulgar Undertaker's wife. 
 All go a pleasuring but me," 
 
 (Spoken) — " I wish you'd mind your business, and go on 
 shelling the peas, we have no time for pleasure." — " We 
 might go out sometimes, I think, as well as one's betters," 
 " Go on shelling the peas, I tell you, and let your betters 
 alone." — " 0, What you throw that in my dish, do you ; but 
 you want me to be as vulgar as Mrs. Grits, that low-life 
 woman, that keeps the chandler's shop next door." — " Nice 
 French beans, ma'am ; talking of French beans ma'am, 
 are you going to France V — " Mind the shop, I tell you, 
 and perhaps at the end of the season we may have a sail 
 up the river to Gravesend." — "I think I see myself sailing 
 to Gravesend when every-body's going to Paris."—:" Mind 
 
 a 
 
H THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 the shop, 1 say." — " Very well, them peas are eighteen 
 pence a peck, ma'am." — " You might get there for a little 
 more, and as we are yearning a good livelihood — no salary 
 to-day ma'am — and as we are getting up in the world — fine 
 season for mushrooms, ma'am — but you have no pluck — 
 try those kidneys ma' am — or you'd get knighted like your 
 friend Sir Jeremy Treacle, and make a lady on me." — 
 "That's no such easy matter, I can tell you." — " How do 
 you do, Mrs. Button, pray are you going to France ?"— 
 " No, I'm going to Paris !" — "Aye! I wish you'd go." — 
 " I should forget all my English in a week." — *' Should 
 you, I am sure that's a very desirable object." — " Here. 
 Bill, go and book two places, your mother says she shall 
 forget her English." 
 
 Hey then, away, for Paris is the only place, 
 This very day, with spirits light and gay. 
 
 Passing along the Strand, 1 found the same rage every 
 where. At the corner of a street a yelling Ballad Singer, 
 and his infant pupil, were characteristically and vocifer- 
 ously chaunting the following ditty : — 
 
 [5ung' in imitation of a male and female street singer. 
 
 City dames the rage inflames. 
 They know how to time it ; 
 Mrs. Sims is full of whims. 
 And hates our foggy climate. 
 Mrs. Grill is very ill, 
 Nothing can improve her, 
 Unless she sees the TuUerees, 
 And waddles through the Louver. 
 
 For London now is out of town. 
 
 Who in England tarries ; 
 
 Who can bear to linger there. 
 
 When all the world's at Paris. 
 
 Shortly afterwards I met my tailor's journej'taan-- 
 " What's the rsason, Mr. Snip, your master has'nt sent home 
 my Cossac trowsers 1 — " Not at home, sir, send them home 
 th^ momefit h« retuiBS,"— " What's he out — at Blerchaut 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 75 
 
 Tailors' Hall, I suppose? — "No sir, he's gone to Paris.'' 
 *• Mr. Heelpiece, why are my boots not sent home 1" — " Sir, 
 master's gone to Paris." — " Mrs. Strap, your husband 
 did'nt call to turn my hair this morning V — " My husband* 
 sir, is gone to Paris." Alarmed at this general migration, 
 and the appearance of new faces in every direction, I 
 turn'd into Exeter Change, hoping to see some of my old 
 friends, but the mania had also extended here ; and as I 
 glanced right and left new faces were ranged in every com- 
 partment, a whole army of substitutes were ranged in order 
 over waiters' trays, tea-caddies, ribbons, whips, spurs, 
 razors, spectacles, pincushions, g-aiters, true lovers' knots, 
 buttons, toys, &c. &c. &c. even the very beef-eater, that 
 used to invite the passers by, with " Valk up ladies and 
 gemmen, and see the beastesses,"" even he was expatriated, and 
 a new stentor occupied his cap and haibert, and I verily 
 believe, if I had walked up stairs and enquired for any of 
 the said beastesses, I should have been told that the Lions 
 and Kangaroos were dancing a Quadrille at Aix-la-Cha- 
 pelle, and the Elephant dancing the tight rope at Paris ; 
 so passing through the gate I hailed a coach, and was ac- 
 costed with " here we are, all ready, this way yoxir honour, 
 No. 74:5, pull up here, Bill, it's all right, thegemman's waiting : 
 this way your honour." " Oh, Waterman !" " Sir," '* Allow me 
 to ask you a question?" ." Yes, certainly, sir, what is it V 
 " Eh ! pray waterman, do you love etymohgistsV " Can't 
 say I ever eat any, sir." " I believe you do not exactly 
 understand me ; because if you are rot fond of Etymolo- 
 gists, I am : Pray can you tell me the reason why they call 
 you Waterman 1" — " Th? very question I axed Joe Atkins 
 last Thursday was a week, at the Blue Lasts. Joe, says I, 
 can you tell me what's the reason they calls us Vateiinen .'" 
 —" Vhy, you fool, says he, it's because we opens the coach 
 doors." — " Aye, says I, I confess that never struck me 
 before." 
 
 Shortly afterwards I met a friend, who immediately 
 asked me if I had been to Paris — " No," I replied, — " No, 
 really." — " Really, why dont you go ?" — '* 1 dont know, 
 *' Your friends won't speak to you." — " Won't they V — 
 *' They'll all cut you."—" Will they 1"— " You can get 
 thare in four days," — " Can I ?" — " You might do it in 
 
 G 2 
 
76 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 tliree. —' Might I ?"_«« You would be delighted!"— 
 " Should I V — " You could make somethincr of it."— 
 " Could I ?"— " You should go."—" Should I ?"— " You 
 ought to go."—" Ought I."—" Why then if I might, could, 
 should, and ought, I shall set oflf immediately." 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Come don't be so silly, 
 Ascend the French Dilly, 
 felack Bear Piccadilly, 
 
 The weather is bright j 
 Cut, stop, and turn over. 
 The Packet from Dover, 
 Will scud with you over. 
 
 Before it is light. 
 Old age and phthisiness, 
 All folks cut business. 
 They presto for Paris 
 
 As other folks do. 
 
 W^hen they're at their fooleries, 
 Visit the Thulleries, 
 Other tomfooleries, 
 
 And such things are there. 
 The Hottentot farmer. 
 The hog in gold armor. 
 The coffee-house charmer. 
 
 The coach drawn by fleas ; 
 And while with both sockets, 
 You gaze at the rockets, 
 Take care of your pockets, 
 
 As other folks do. 
 
 Of France, brag eternal, 
 Call England infernal. 
 Then publish your journal 
 
 A quarto of prate. 
 With these sort of touches, 
 I cry'd to the duchess, 
 The mania much is, 
 
 The fashion of lutf . 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 77 
 
 When the French cry to you, 
 Payez, vite, vite mon dieu, 
 Why then answer with poo. 
 As other folks do. 
 
 And when a stage goddess, 
 Assumes hat or boddice. 
 Whose shape you think oddish. 
 
 Show what Briton dares. 
 Before the whole theatre, 
 Instantly be at her, 
 Commenting on her. 
 
 Loud as the players. 
 Ye gigs, I'll quiz at her, 
 I've paid to stare at her. 
 And damme I'll chatter 
 
 As other Johns do. 
 
 When poor as old Homer, 
 The rhino won't flow more, 
 And Henry Hase no more. 
 
 Promise to pay. 
 Then home melancholy 
 Succeeds former folly. 
 With beef steak at Dolly, 
 
 This is the way. 
 With face rather paler, 
 Ye cynical railor, 
 Sneak back to Long Acre, 
 And tick with your tailor. 
 
 As other folks do. 
 
 What can carry everybody to Paris ? Is it curiosity ?— 
 No. — Is it fashion *? — That certainly draws the unfashion- 
 able part of the visitors ; but what can be the motive that 
 draws the motley group to Paris — the Peer from St. 
 James's and the Gingerbread-baker from St. Giles's, wafts 
 them across the channel, and lands them safe in the gar- 
 dens of the ThuUeries, where they alight and stare tit 
 each other as if they had both dropped from the clouds ! I 
 thought I had solved this question, when a train Of 
 thoughts carried me to Margate. Margate! ' how ars 
 G S 
 
78 THEATHICAL BWDfrET. 
 
 the mignty fallen V Formerly all was rank and fashion at 
 Margate— once the favourite resort of the Bon Ton — until 
 in an evil hour Sir Simon Sugarloaf, the rich grocer, deter- 
 mined on a trip to Margate, to forsake his rural retreat at 
 Hackney, and take a trip to the Isle of Thanet. Sir Simon 
 and Lady Sugarloaf at Margate, they were followed by 
 Mr. Deputy Marrowfat, and his fat fubsy wife ; the conse- 
 quence is, the stars and garters, mixing with vulgarity, 
 find it a bore, evacuate the town, make an orderly retreat, 
 leave the colony to the new settlers, and take possession 
 of Ramsgate. Lord Hildebrand Dablincourt, a nobleman, 
 who bears in his veins the identical blood that came over 
 with the conqueror, being obliged to mix with vulgarity, 
 whose blood was not older than the wine in his cellar, and 
 consequently not worth more than one penny per gallon, 
 summonses a council of Peers, and Margate is voted low, 
 vulgar, and plebeian, and scouted accordingly by all the 
 stars and garters, who leave it in disgust. The conse- 
 quence is, the next season the society you meet at Margate 
 resembles very much the society you left behind you at 
 Billingsgate ; they go from Margate to Ramsgate, from 
 Ramsgate to Tunbridge, from Tunbridge to Harrowgate, 
 from Harrowgate to Cheltenham, from Cheltenham to 
 Brighton ; thus they follow in regular sequence, each class 
 following the class above it, until they have run through all 
 the towns that are coastwise — each low life class endea- 
 vouring to mix with the high life class above it, and each 
 high life class endeavouring to avoid the low life class be- 
 low it. At last ; What is low life and vulgarity, and where 
 does it exist 1 For instance. Lord Slangtown, who drives 
 his own coachman, calls ]Mr. Steady, the rich grocer, low 
 life, because he lets his coachman drive him. Steady, 
 calls Jenkins, of Swallow-street, low life, because he re- 
 tails grocery. Jenkins of Swallow-street, calls Clipall, the 
 tailor, low life ; who calls Serge, of Seven-dials, whom he 
 patronizes for silks, needles, tapes, buckram, &;c. low life. 
 Thus we see that however low a man may be, he lays the 
 standard of low life at a degree or two still lower than him- 
 self. At St. James's, low life is in Mincing-lane ; in Min- 
 cing-lane, at Clare-market; in Clare-market, at St. Giles's ; 
 and at St. Giles's they will send you still farther. I remem- 
 ber an anecdote of the late celebrated Jonas Hanway, who 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 79 
 
 itddressed a little sooty-faced fellow, who had been sweep- 
 ing hischimney one morning, with — "Harkee, my little lad, 
 what would you say if I was to give you a nice bob-wig to 
 wear on May-day V " O, sir (says young soot-0), we 
 never goes out on May-day." — " No ! why not ?" — " Why, 
 master says it is so low life !" — And I myself once recol- 
 lect hearing a brewer's dray-man say to a coal-heaver 
 — " Come, Dick, come away ; we can't sit here drinking 
 with such a low life fellow as a dustman." 
 
 Thus every person considers his consequence in Society, 
 and imagines himself as good if not better than his neigh- 
 bour — therefore if Mrs. A. thought it fashionable to be sent 
 to Botany Bay, Mrs. B. W(mldn't be satisfied unless she was 
 transported. 
 
 Finding that all the world was going to Paris, I thought 
 it a sufficient reason that I should go ; and as 1 wished to 
 escape that horrid bore of being quizz'd as the only one of 
 my acquaintance who had not been there, and wishing at 
 the same time to please all parties, I determined upon 
 proceeding immediately. Like Sterne, I look'd at the 
 sleeve of my coat, and pronounced it good enough for my 
 journey ; Wie Sterne, I put up a couple of shirts into my 
 portmanteau, but as I determined my journey should be 
 any thing but a sentimental one, unlike Sterne I left my 
 black silk breeches behind me — book'd myself in the Dover 
 Mail, and at the very witching time of night, I found my- 
 self properly equipped and ready for exportation in the 
 Angel-Inn yard, at the back of St. Clements. A mail-coach, 
 — but as every body knows what a mail-coach is, and, 
 as the Dover Mail differs not from any other, except in the 
 road it happens to take, I shall pass it over as a matter 
 irrevelant to, unconnected with, and uncalled for by, the 
 matter in question. 
 
 The four horses being too, and the porters having stamp'd 
 and strapp'd the regular quarter of an hour's load, which is 
 done, I suppose, to prepare those who have the hardihood, 
 to sit it out, for a sea-sickness, I determined on taking my 
 place. Sleep, great nature's second course, balm of hurt 
 minds, &c. &c. — but our immortal bard has lavished such 
 high encomiums on sleep, that I should be almost afraid 
 to mention one of the great inconveniences attending it, but 
 
so THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 that it has escaped the observation of that great observer of 
 nature, as well as our poets in general, not one of which 
 have touched upon it, I shall therefore venture to make 
 one remark. Sleep, then, is a mortal foe to conversation : 
 this is a great blemish to your lovers of small talk: oi^ce 
 delivered over to the arms of Morpheus, and conversation 
 is at an end. This, it must be allowed, is a terrible draw- 
 back to all its other merits ; for I will contend, that the non- 
 sense uttered by some people in their sleep, is no more to be 
 considered as conversation, than the nonsense uttered by 
 some people when awake : as I always find it difficult to 
 sleep in a mail coach, I make it a rule to keep all my com- 
 panions awake by talking ; as conversation is certainly con- 
 sidered a more rational amusement than sleep, particularly 
 by those who cannot sleep. 
 
 On stepping into the coach, I was surprised at not meet- 
 ing with the usual salutations — all as still as midnight ; 
 I therefore concluded I was the only inhabitant ; conceive 
 then my horror at passing the night alone, and without 
 conversation. I soon, however, discovered I had fellow 
 passengers, all of whom, unmindful of the cracking of the 
 wheels, and the guard's horn at starting, " death to my hopes," 
 were sound asleep. As I found all means to awaken them 
 ineffectual, I determined to sleep the greater part of the 
 journey ; and as I kept my promise, it is not to be expected 
 I can repeat any thing that happened, until we came 
 ■within a mile of Dover, when I awakened, and was com- 
 plimented on my sleeping so well ; " Never saw any one 
 sleep so charmingly. I had been fast asleep all the morn- 
 ing." This certainly came with a singularly I good grace 
 from those who had been asleep all the night. " Very fine 
 morning, I had lost a great deal : couldn't tell what I'd 
 lost." At last I was accosted by an old gentleman who sat 
 rubbing his eyes in the opposite corner of the coach. — 
 "Good morning, sir; going tto Paris'? — So are we; 
 wife and daater, here they be, sir ; daater speaks French !*' 
 — " Is it possible !" — " Yes, sir, she speaks astonishing." — 
 " Astonishing I dare say." — " Yes, she learnt it of a Ger- 
 man, that learnt it at Dunkirk; talk Polly, talk; ax the 
 gentleman if he's going to Paris, in proper French''" — 
 " L*) P&> don't be so disagreeable, how can you be so." — 
 
IRIP TO PARIS. 81 
 
 *' Talk I say, talk, Polly, what's the use of my laying out 
 sich a sight of money in your hedication if you won't show 
 it; talk, Polly— talk, I insist upon it:"— "La, Pa! how 
 you go on." — " Talk I say V — " Only vous poor Parie, 
 mounseer." — »" There, sir, that's what I call French ; 
 that'll do I think." — "Yes, sir, she'll astonish the nativesT* 
 — " I think so too." — " Aye, sir, she speaks it mathemati- 
 cally /" — " La, Pa, you do go or\,gramatically you mean." — 
 " Well, what then, gramatically or mathematically, it's all 
 one 'ant it, sirl" — " Precisely, sir," I replied, " in the pre- 
 sent instance." — " Pray, sir," says his fat wife from the 
 other side of the cogich, " is the sea-bathing good at 
 Paris V — " La, Ma ! how you talk ; mother will be always 
 showing her ignorance ; there's no sea-bathing there ; why 
 don't you know all the jography books tells you Paris is in 
 land!" — "There now you will be talking and exposing 
 yourself when there's no occasion, you always will, you 
 know." — " ^Vhy there is but one river at Paris, and that is 
 calied the Louver." 
 
 The coachman and guard here informed us we had ar- 
 rived at the Ship Inn at Dover, where, on alighting, I was 
 immediately surrounded by the usual hosts of supplicants, 
 with " Going across, your honour ?" — " Going over, sir ?" — 
 Keep back. " Here's the Pretty Peggy, sir, sails to-mor- 
 row." — "Here's Thomas and Sally, sir, sails to-day." — 
 *' Dover Lass, sir, the prettiest vessel in the service," I 
 was here accosted by a Frenchman. " Sare, if you sail 
 go widg dat man, you sail be drowned in de sea ; if 
 you go widg me in my ship you sail get to Paris before 
 nothing at all." " What is the name of your vessel, mon- 
 sieurl" — " La Maitresse de la Terre: dat is in Englise, de, 
 de, de Terrente of de Mistress." — " Well, I shall go with 
 you, monsieur." — " Hold your jabber, mounseer, what's 
 the use of deceiving the gentleman : you know you can't 
 sail to-day, the wind's slap in your teeth." — " Mauvaissxijet 
 — de wind in my teeth. Ha! ha! I am Frenchman : my 
 vessel no care for de wind." Considering the quarrelsome 
 rabble that surround you, I escaped tolerably well, with 
 the loss of only one skirt of my coat, and three breast but- 
 tons, received one blow on the back from the *' Dover 
 J_Ass," another on the head from /' Thomas and Sally," 
 which I was assured was meant for *' Pretty Peggy." That 
 
82 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 vessel being on the point of sailing, I was summoned on 
 board) aud now the thought of quitting one's native shore 
 for the first time, to wander on a foreign strand, to take a 
 voyage to sea, a voyage of twenty miles, as far as the eye 
 can carry you, it raises our mind above common prose, 
 and elevates us at once to the seventh heaven of poetry. I 
 shall therefore invoke the tuneful nine in strains worthy 
 of the occasion — mount my Pegasus, and proceed — 
 
 SONG. 
 
 WHO'S FOR CALAIS. 
 
 Who's for Calais, the packets just starting, now, 
 
 Come be brisk or you'll all be too late; 
 Pray make haste, there is uo time for parting, now, 
 
 Jump on board or you'll all be too late. 
 With hearts light and merry, the wind and tides ready, 
 
 Both high and low, belle and beau, off they all go j 
 It's only like crossing at Twickenham ferry. 
 
 Is the passage from Dover to Calais I vow. 
 
 (^Spoken) Calais, a-hoy ! who's for Calais ? — Now, sir, if 
 you mean to go you must come, for were off like a shot. 
 *' Well I'll be shot then if I shall have time to get my lunch." 
 " Never mind your lunch, sir, you'll soon forget it ;" — 
 **Oh, I hope there's no fear, captain?" — "Plenty of fear, 
 ma'am, but not the least danger." — [Old woman) — " Law, if 
 the captain shouldn't know iiis way, we shall all be lost and 
 drown'd to a dead certainty" — {conceitedly) ** Pray, captain, 
 how's the wind ?" — "Pretty well, sir, I thank you, how 
 are you ?" — "Hollo ! stnnd clear tlitre, I want to make a 
 tack." — " I hope, sir, you'll make no a-tack while the ladies 
 are on board." — " I say, Daddy, is the vater always salt 
 ven its in the sea you know. — aye, daddy ?" — "La! what 
 a pretty innocent remark now." — "There, there, the cap- 
 tain's going the wrong way ; don't you see we are all a- 
 going backwards." — " Well, you needn't mind, sir, you're 
 forward enough, I'm sure.'* — " What makes you think so, 
 Mr. Sharp-shins?" — " Why, you're half-seas over already, 
 sir."— "Lord, Pa! look at that Uiere funny !" — " It's s 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. S3 
 
 werry, my dear !" — "Well, come, that's werry funny." — 
 " Excuse me, sir, that's bad — you'll never make a pun- 
 stir. 
 
 It's only like crossing at Twickenham ferry, 
 Is the passage from Dover to Calais 1 vow. 
 
 At length our sea-bveezes beginning to quicken, 
 
 Ourcocknies weie instantly seized with dismay j 
 The ladies poor creatures began now to sicken, 
 
 O dear Mr. Captain, go back again pray ; 
 1 feel uncommon queer — I shall be ill 1 fear. 
 
 Oh what a qualm my dear, hold up your head ; 
 I'll take care not to come more in salt water here. 
 
 Oh that I once more was safe in my bed. 
 
 (Spoken.) — " Oh my dear Jim, do covne and hold up my 
 head; oh 1 am so bad." — "Serve you right, you would 
 come a pleasuring; now you've got plenty of it, you see." 
 — "Dash my vigs ! if ever T was in such a v.'oeful plight as 
 this, since my name was Theophilus Twizzle ; I'll take 
 care never to leave i\Iulton-hill, and go to France by water 
 again, I'll go all the vay by dry land the next time" — {A 
 Dandy speaks) — " Bless lue, what a singular sensation ! 
 Oh, oh I I'm dreadfully apprehensive 1 shall be violently 
 sick, captain." — " Oh, very well, sir ; — here, Tom, bring 
 over a pail, and a mop for the gentleman." — " A pail and a 
 riiop! — Oh, horrid idea ! What now would any of their 
 ladyships think to see me in such an odious ungenteel situ- 
 ation." — " I say, Twizzle, do you twig the Dandy there ?" 
 — " Oh dear yes, sir, and I dare say he twigs me too." — 
 " Why, aye, you seem to be hard at it there, aye." — " Oh sir ! 
 I'm going down every moment." — "Can I bring any thing 
 up for you, sir?" — "Molly ! Molly ! where's ray servant? — 
 Oh, I'm dying!" — "Well, so am I, ma'am, and I can't 
 come." — " Well I'm sure, there's impudence! — How dare 
 you be sick, Molly, when I want you ?" — " Ay, lassie, take 
 awa your head, you're casting up your accounts in my 
 pocket here, among my provision." — " Oh confound it ! 
 shall I never get rid of this detestable pail again?" — (old 
 tcowion) — "Here, Mary, pray bring me the brandy bottle, 
 
84 THEATICAL BUDGET. 
 
 oh, I'm goinp to go." — "Hollo! look out — there's a wale 
 afloat !" — " Where, where ! I'd give a huudred guineas to 
 see a whale." — " Oh, it's a wile raisprououncemcnt — sir, 
 its onlvmy wife's veil here, that's all." — "Oh,ia that all — 
 ha, ha,' ha!" 
 
 It's only like crossing at Twickenham ferry. 
 Is the passage from Dover to Calais I vow. 
 
 The pier now of Calais in sight just appearing, 
 
 Began all our company's spirits to cheer ; 
 They thought no more dangers were now to be fearing, 
 
 But soon found they had to encounter one near. 
 For the tide it was very low, here was a pretty go j 
 
 Dear Mr. Captain, oh pray gain the pier. 
 For how can we get to shore, through all this mud, you 
 know. 
 
 Oh that 1 ever left town to come here. 
 
 (Spoken) — Dear me, captain, can't you possibly make 
 the pier of Calais, and land us there ? — " Why yes, sir, 
 and possibly I can run foul of the bar loo." — " Oh then, 
 by all means bar that, sir." — " W^ell, but how the deuce is 
 my wife and young one to get ashore here?" — *' ^^'hy, you 
 must first go over that ere board, sir;" — " La, daddy ! vy 
 it is'nt broader than a three-penny ribbond." "Oh my good 
 gracious! I'm as giddy as a goose." " Then I'd have you 
 take care ma'am you do'nt make a duck of it." — "Now 
 who's made that villainous pun at this time of danger ? 
 They ought to be sent to the Poultry Compter for it." — 
 *• I say, Bob, do you twig that fat lady on the two fellowt' 
 backs, there, wading through the mud ? — There's a pair 
 of legsl" — " Legs! mill-posts, you mean. — Well, at all 
 events, she don't stand upon triflfs, it seems." — *' Dash 
 my vig ! vat a posse of vomeu in the vater there ; veil, I 
 vooder now if they are a specimen of the French ladies 
 now — Oh, my heart alive! there's the dandy gentleman 
 ulipped ofF the board, and stuck up to his knees in the 
 mud there." — "Here, captain! captain! will nobody 
 assist me out of this dreadful dilemma! here's a horrid 
 place I'm in ! Oh, I cant possibly survive it." — " Here, 
 tip us your hand, sir — now for it — there you are, you see." 
 
 \ 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 85 
 
 — '* Aye! but wliere are my pumps ? where are both my 
 pnmps ?" — *' Oh, never mind your pumps lad : diaua you 
 see, you've a nice pair of high boots there in exchange — 
 ha, ha, ha !" 
 
 Oh, it's only like crossing at Twickenham ferry. 
 Is the passage from Dover to Calais I vow. 
 
 Behold me now, safe landed on the pier at Calais — sur- 
 rounded by a host of supplicants ; but I must do them the 
 justice to say, much more polite than my friends I left 
 behind on the other side the water ; for the moment I sig- 
 nified to them that I declined their services, they offered 
 me free passage, and permitted me to retain the remainder 
 of my coat, and as many buttons as I had been able to 
 bring over with me. " Hotel Meuria, monsieur.'^ " Hotel 
 D'Angleterre." " Lion D'Argent, monsieur." — " Please to 
 whant de little boy to carry your box, sare 1" " Perrait- 
 tez moi de porter votre portmanteau, monsieur." '* Ah, 
 ah, monsieur — you wante de barbiere, de perriquiere, to 
 curie de hair, to frizze de tale." — " Ah, monsieur, avee 
 vous besoin d'un taileure — to make de habit — de coat of 
 de first fashion, mi lor !" <* No — no — messieurs, sorry 
 i am not able to enjoy your civil attentions. 1 have fixed 
 on my hotel — I don't want a coat, and monsieur perri- 
 •quiere, I have not a tail — I have the honour to be a crop, 
 and can therefore dispense with your service.'* I was 
 liere accosted by a civil decently dressed man, who wished 
 *o have the supreme felicity of c.irrying my portmanteau, 
 and the inexpressible delight of seeing it safe through the 
 Custom House — I made him a very low bow, and confessed 
 myself much obliged — 1 immediately addressed myself to 
 a very respectable officer-like person, habited in green 
 uniform, with a sword by his side, and inquired who that 
 civil gentleman was — '* Monsieur le comniissaire" — was 
 his reply. Commissioner ! I immediately thought of the 
 various functionaries we have of that name, on my own 
 side of the water — such as commssioner of excise, com- 
 missioner of customs — commissioner of taxes — not one of 
 which I could suppose him to be ; and while I was won- 
 dering on crossing the grand place, a little ragged boy, in 
 a bluejacket, with his hair powdered, and a large cocked 
 jf 
 
86 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 hat on, came runnings, and exclaimed — *' Ah, monsieur, le 
 *' commissaire — lecommissaire — !e coinmissaire !" — ** Oh," 
 says I, somewhat surprized, " are you a commissaire too !" 
 " Oui — oui — oiii — oui, monsieur." And I had yet to learn 
 that commissaire meant nothing more in all the world 
 than an errand boy, — indeed it is not at all uncommon for 
 the French to bestow grand names on the most trifling 
 avocations. 
 
 There is one thing, which I cannot help expressing my 
 surprize at, and which indcedstrikesevery traveller, on his 
 lauding in France, with a momentary astonishment ; a cir- 
 cumstance in itself so perfectly natural, yet the eftect on the 
 ear is so odd and ludicrous, so perfectly outre, that I never 
 yet met any one who did not wonder, or any one who did 
 not like to impeach his own good sense by confessing he 
 had; it ishearinglittle children speak French so very well ; 
 but that they should speak their own language correctly is 
 not to be wondered at. Wonder, as defined by Dr. John- 
 son, is the eftect of novelty on ignorance, and whatever 
 odium it may cast upon me, I still go on wondering, and 
 who does not wonder at a French- ddigence rolling down 
 the narrow streets, and looking like one quarter of the 
 town upon wheels. O, sacra ! smack I crack ! clitter clatter * 
 depechez ! done ! and the number of discordant sounds 
 issuing from il, drawn by five ragged, stupid-looking 
 horses, scattered about at a roost unsociable distance, — 
 all pulling different ways as if unsettled as to their point 
 of destination, fixed by ropes and chains, like a drove of 
 oxen ; it moves slowly and laboriously on four large wag- 
 gon wheels — inside of this moving penitentiary, are six, 
 seven, and sometmes nine of our suftering fellow creatures : 
 in the front of this is the cabriolet, something like our 
 covered tax-cart, with two more victims, and the cou- 
 ducteaur in a green jacket and fur cap, whose province 
 it is to feed the horses, take care of the luggage, pay the 
 postillions, and dine with his unhappy prisoners. Why 
 this dashing set out, this notable machine, was called the 
 diligence, I cannot guess, unless it be that it travels at 
 the wondrous pace of four miles an hour — it is the wonder 
 of every traveller, and excites the wonder of a Frenchman, 
 but his wonder is excited at the surprizing perfection 
 travelling is brought to in *' de Gmnd Nation.'' One i ' 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 87 
 
 them said to mc — " Monsieur, le diligence uc s'esi reverse 
 jamais \" The diligence is never overturned, " No more 
 is the York rvafjgon /" said I — But as I shall have occa- 
 sion, in the course of the evening, to give occular demon- 
 stration of this amazing machine, I shall say no more ou 
 the subject at pretent. Alarmed at thi» m.ode of travel- 
 ling through the country, I determined to travel post ; 
 by the bye, travelling post ?n' France, means, that you go 
 five miles an hour instead of four, and by this conveyance, 
 I arrived at Boulogne. The inhabitants of Boulogne are 
 a very civil, good sort of people, to whom the English 
 confess themselves very much indebted. From Boulogne 
 I proceeded to Nampont ; from Nampont to MontrieuUe. 
 I miust not pass over Nampont — Sterne's Nampont, a 
 little dirty town, which is much more indebted for its 
 celebrity to one dead ass, than many cities are for thou- 
 sands of living ones. At Abbeville 1 resolved to pass the 
 night : on entering the public room 1 perceived two per- 
 sons at the farther end quarrelling. These were Mr. Ro- 
 gers, a countryman of my own, in a sickly state of health, 
 and was travelling to Calais by easy stages, who was 
 advised by his physicians by all means to avoid all quarrels, 
 and causes of irritation •, the other was Mons. Denise, 
 who, out of pure friendship, had accompanied him all 
 the way from Paris, and was to return the next day to 
 deliver a course of lectures ou England and its language. 
 They had a sincere regard for each other, and the only 
 cause of disagreement between them was, Mr. Rogers's 
 eutire disregard of the French language. Denise, whose 
 idea of the French pronunciation led him continually to 
 correct the errors of his friend ; and as he was continually 
 at it, it had become a regular system. Mr. Rogeis, from 
 bis bad stale of health, was so little able to bear an irrita- 
 tion of temper, or, as we say, a wearing of the spirits, 
 that it had come to an open rupture ; and as I entered the 
 room, they were just upon the point of reconciliation, 
 after a suitable concession on the part of Mons. Denise. 
 As I entered the room, Rogers had given him his hand, 
 and was addressing him thus — " There I its all over now 
 — don't be at it any more — never mind — what does it mat- 
 ter now, whether I say — u, or eu? — How can you do so ! 
 why do you perpetuaJly torment mc with-^u and e-se " 
 
 TI 2 
 
68 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 " Mais, Monsieur Rogerc, uiy dear frien, Mons. Rogeie, 
 voulez vous avoir ladelicatisse de Parier comme il faiit — 
 dites ens, pas-use, ladelicatisse." — " Delicate fiddlestick ? 
 now how can you expect me to go about all day twisting 
 ray mouth up as if I was blowiug in a fife ? You'll be 
 the death of me, with your inferual ouse and eas. Now 
 do drop the subject !" — The conversation continued about 
 an hour, during which time Mr. Rogers barbarously mur- 
 dered several French words. Denise sat riding on hi* 
 chair, with most heroic fortitude, suppressing his critical 
 propensities ; at last, Mr. Rogers had occasion to mention 
 a person vho was well known, which he pronouced Cano, 
 at which Denise rising from the chair, " Oh sacra ! I bear 
 great deal, but dat is too much. Oh, my dear frien, 
 Mons. Rogerc, I promise not to correct you any more, 
 you say Cano. — Ah voulez vous, you should say Bien 
 Cannue, enf, e-n-f — enf. Monsieur i?o^cj'e, dat is forty- 
 eight mistakes you make since you leave Paris." " Devil 
 take it ! there you are at it again ! you are determined 
 to be the death of me ; and if you come to that you 
 should'ut call me Rogere, when my name is Rogers." 
 Denise drew a paper from his pocket, and began to enume- 
 rate and expatiate on the enormity of the other forty-seven, 
 Rogers, gaining strength from despair, seized a candle- 
 stick in one hand and his friend's hand in the other, saying 
 — " Aye, 1 see you are bent upon killing me — good night, 
 I'm going to bed ; — you'll be on your journey back to 
 Paris in the morning before I rise; good bye, we shall not 
 see each other for a long time again ; perhaps never. 
 Let's part friends, good night I" — " Ah, ^lonsieur Rogers, 
 my dear frien, ban rot/age^ Monsieur, adieu Monsieur 
 Rogere." *' Adiu Dlnis !" replied Rogei-s, and imme- 
 diately left the rootn. Denise, at this pronunciation, 
 walked backwards and Forwards, groaning most piteously, 
 exclaiming, " O sacra vom de Dieu !" On enquiring for 
 a bed, I was informed the only one to spare was in a 
 double-bedded room, occupied by my countryman, Rogers. 
 There was no alternative, and I was obliged to accept it. 
 About three o'clock in the morning I was awakened by a 
 Irenifudous knocking at the door. *' Who is there?" — 
 ** Pardonnez moi. Messieurs ! — Ah, ah ! Monsieur Ro- 
 gere ! [knorkhig). " Who's there' — what do you waul ":' 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 89 
 
 " It IS not you 1 want, Saie, go to your sleep. Go to 
 your sleep, Sare, it is my friend Monsieur Rog-ere I want. 
 Where de Devil shall 1 find him ? it is as dark as de pitch." 
 (still knocking.) " Your friend, Mr. Rogers, is in this 
 room, shall I wake him ?" " No, Sare, do not give your- 
 self de trouble to wake, I shall wake him myself, (still 
 knocking.) Go to your sleep : I have wake seven gentle- 
 men this night, not one of which shall be him." At this 
 Rogers got out of bed and opened the door, saying, 
 "Holloa! what's the matter! who's there ?".— " Ah, 
 Monsieur Rogere !" — what it's you, is it ? Avhat the Devil 
 can you want at this time of night, aye." " Ah, Mon- 
 sieur Rogere, my dear frien, last night you say to me, 
 Adiu Denis ! Voulez vous should say, Adi-e-u Deuise ! 
 i-s-e, a-d-i-e-u De-n-i-s-e I" " Oh the Devil, what are 
 you at it again ? Am I to be deprived of my natural rest 
 for your infernal o-u-s-e, and e-s e?" " Ah, Monsieur 
 Rogere, my dear frien, I promise not to correct you any 
 more ; but I could not get a wink in my sleep, for fear 
 you should forget this is the forty-nine mistake you make 
 since^you left Paris. Adieu, Monsieur Rogere, adieu my 
 dear frien, adieu I bon voyage." — Poor Deuise having 
 eased his mind of the burden that had oppressed him du- 
 ring the early part of the nighl, bow took his leave, and 
 I determined in the morning to follow his example. 
 
 There were other English friends in the house who spent 
 the evening in endeavouring to make themselves as jolly 
 as possible — -I joined them, and in order to make myself 
 agreeable sang luy favorite sung, 
 
 THE COUNTRY CLUB. 
 
 Now we are all met together. 
 In spite of wind and weather. 
 
 To moisten well our clay; 
 Before we think of jogging, 
 Let's take a cheerful noggin, 
 
 Where's the waiter! ring away. 
 Bring the glees and the catches, 
 Tlie tobacco-pipes and matches, 
 
 And plenty of brown stout 5 
 H 3 
 
90 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 Yet, the glasses, 'ere we start 'em, 
 Let's proceed secundum artem, 
 
 Let the clerk all the names read out. 
 
 (Spoken) — Gentlemen of the Quizzical Society, please 
 to answer to your names : — Farmer iScrogrgius ! Why, I btt 
 here. — Doctor Horseleach ! Here. — Parson Paunch ? Here I 
 — Taylor Tit! Here. So he goes on, for about twenty. 
 At last, you hear — Are you ail assembled ! All, all, all. 
 
 So, here's to you, Mister Wiggins, 
 Here's to you. Master Figgins, 
 So, put the beer about. 
 
 Come tell us what the news is, 
 Who wins, sir, and who loses, 
 
 Of the times, what do people say ? 
 Hard, hard the landlord racks us. 
 Then we've such a load of taxes, 
 
 Indeed, well, and how goes hay ? 
 Why, now, there's Master Wiseman, 
 He told the exciseman. 
 
 The cause of this pother and rout — 
 Order, order and sobriety, 
 The rules of this Society, 
 
 Let the secretary read 'em out. 
 
 (Spoken J — Every member of this society that spills hi.* 
 liquor in his neighbour's pocket, shall forfeit two-peiicr. 
 Every member of this society that singes his neighbour's 
 wig with his pipe, shall forfeit two-pence. Every mem- 
 ber of this society that refuses to laugh at a good joke, 
 shall forfeit two-pence. Every member of this society 
 who reproaches his neighbour with coming to distress by 
 unavoidable misfortunes, shall forfeit two-pence. Mr. 
 President, I move that this forfeit be a shilling. And 1 
 second the motion. Are you all agreed ? 1 am unani- 
 mously. A noble resolution. D'ye think so? 
 
 Why, then, here's to you, Mr. Figgins, 
 Here's to you, Mr. NViggins, 
 So, put the beer about. 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 91 
 
 And now the potent liquor 
 Not even spares the vicar. 
 
 But all in their noddles mount ; 
 While among this set of queerers, 
 All talkers and no hearers, 
 
 Each his favorite tale recounts-^ 
 The soldier talks of battles, 
 The grazier sells his cattle, 
 
 Conversation to provoke j 
 Till the juice of the barrel. 
 Begets some curious quarrel. 
 
 While the company is lost in smoke . 
 
 (Spoken) — ^Upon my soul, neighbour, I had no hand 
 in the death of your wife ; it was all in the way of busi- 
 ness — Nay, but doctor, 'twere a cursed unneighbourly 
 thing of you; not that the woman were any sitch great 
 things, but to put a body to sitch an expense. — Why, you 
 do'nt tell me so ! killed fifteen with your own hand ! 
 • — Fifteen, by my laurels. — D'ye hear that butcher? — Hear 
 it, yes ; but I'll lay un what he dares he has not killed 
 so many as I have, by hundreds. Powder my whiskers I — 
 Come, come, gentlemen, says the bellows-maker, no 
 breezes! — Let me exhort you to temperance, says the par- 
 son — Amen, says the clerk. — That's right, says the under- 
 taker, let us bury all animosity. — Now that's what I like, 
 said the fiddler ; I like to see harmony restored. — D'ye, 
 though ? you like to see harmony restored? Why, then, 
 
 Here's to you, Mr. Figgins, 
 Here's to you, Mr. Wiggins, 
 So put the beer about. 
 
 After we had supped, I went to bed, and should have 
 enjoyed a tolerable night's rest, had it not been for a 
 Frenchman, who was on his way to Dover, and who had 
 put up in the same house till the next morningj—bnt in 
 <»rdrr to save time, having put the circumstance into verse, 
 I will recite it. 
 
92 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 A Fiencbnian once, who was a merry wight, 
 Passing through Ahbeville quite late at night, 
 A neat inviting inn he soon did spy, 
 And being rather tired, as well as dry, 
 Resolved to enter; but first he took a peep. 
 In hopes a supper he might get, aad cheap. 
 
 He enters ; Hollo ! Gar<;on, if you please, 
 Bring me a leetle bit of bread and cheese; 
 And, hollo ! garcon, a pot of porter too, he said, 
 Which I shall take, and then myself to bed. 
 
 His supper done, some scraps of cheese were left. 
 Which our poor Frenchman, thinking it no theft, 
 Into his pocket put ; then slowly crcp't 
 To wish'd-for bed ; but not a wink he slept — 
 For on the floor some sacks of flour were laid, 
 To which the rats a nightly visit paid. 
 Our hero, now undress'd, popp'd out the light., 
 Put on his cap, and bade the world good-night ; 
 But first his breeches which contained the fare. 
 Under his pillow he had placed with care. 
 
 Sans ceremonie, soon the rats all ran. 
 And on tlie flour sacks greedily began, 
 At which they gorged themselves ; then smelling round, 
 Under the pillow soon the cheese they found ; 
 And, while at this they all regaling sal, 
 Their happy jaws disturbed the Frenchman's nap: 
 Who, half awake, cried out < Hollo, Hollo! 
 What is dat nibbel at my pillow so? 
 Ah ! 'tis one Got dam rat ! 
 AVhat de diable is it he nibbel, nibbel at ? 
 
 In vain our little hero sought repose ; 
 Sometimes the vermin galloped o'er his nose ; 
 And such the pranks they kept up all the ni;.;iiJ, 
 That he on end antipodes upright, 
 Bawling aloud, called stoutly for a light. 
 Hollo ! Maison ! Garcon, I tay ! 
 Bring mc dc bill for what 1 hav to p:iy ? 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 9:^ 
 
 The bill was brought, and to his great surprise, 
 Teu shillings was the charge — he scarce believes liis eyes ; 
 With eager haste, he runs it o'er. 
 And every time he view'd it, thought it more. 
 
 * Why, zounds, and dam! (he cries) I sail no pay j 
 What, charge ten shelangs for what 1 hav mange? 
 A leetel sup of porter, dis vile bed 
 Where all de rats do run about ray head ?' 
 
 * Oh, curse those rats, the landlord muttered out, 
 I wish to heaven that I could make 'em scout, 
 
 I'll pay him well that can' — ' What's dat you say ?' 
 " I'll pay him well that can' — * Attend to me, I pray :" 
 Will you this charge forego, what I am ai. 
 If from your house I drive away de rat ?' 
 
 * With all my heart !' the eager host replies, 
 
 * E contez done, ami ; (the Frenchman cries,) 
 
 * First, den, — regarder, if you please. 
 Bring to this spot a little bread and cheese, 
 Eh, bien ! a pot of porter too , 
 
 And den invite de rats to sup wid you : 
 
 And after — no matter day be willing. 
 
 For what dey eat you charge dem just ten shilling ; 
 
 And I am sure, when dey behold de score, 
 
 Dey'll quit your house and never conae no more.' 
 
 After which I left the Inn, and I shall suppose you to 
 behold me now changing horses at St. Denis, for the last 
 time. St. Denis, which takes its name from its patron 
 saint, who was beheaded at Paris, and afterwards walked 
 with his head under his arm, to this place, and a cathe- 
 dral erected on the spot. And let me remark to those who 
 do not put such faith in this as the French, that it is 
 but five miles, and the road is very pleasant and agree- 
 able. I entered Paris by the noble Barrier St. Denis ; by 
 the dirty Rue St. Denis, by the truly magnificent Ponte 
 St. Denis, by the nasty Fauxbourg St. Denis. Thus 
 alternating from fillhiness to splendour, I could form an 
 itinerary of the noble, dirty, elegant, nasty city of Paris. 
 I once said to a French gentleman, ' considering you have 
 no pavements, I wonder you have not more accident* 
 
94 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 happen to foot passengers.' * Oh,' he replied, * it is all 
 owing" to our excellent police. De driver of de cabriolet 
 mus ony guard before he knock you down; derefore if be 
 cry guard first, it is your own fault, if he knock you 
 down.' * But,' ."^aid I, * what would become of your 
 excellent police, if he should knock you down aud forget to 
 cry guard ?' * O ! O ! den dat is de same ting, Messieur ; 
 den he must, he must cry gufird afterwards!' Behold mo 
 now at Maurice's hotel, it is aiso called the City of Lon- 
 don, and very well it may. This is a French hotel, 1 
 exclaimed, in the very heart of Paris, where every thing 
 is English J English customs, English manners, English 
 folly, and English cookery : A man might lire here for 
 twelve months and know iio more of France, or the 
 French language, than if he never stirred from Dolly's 
 chop-house, yet how many of our countrymen on return- 
 ing, brandish their newly-acquired knowledge on conti- 
 nental affairs, on the strength of a fortnight's visit to 
 France, over their more uutravelled acquaintance. Every 
 traveller, on his arrival, quickly provides himself with a 
 valet de place, to shew him every thing that is to be seen, 
 at what time it is to be seen, where it is to be seen. In 
 a little narrow street, I found a register office, in front of 
 which was a blue board with gold letters, as follows : — 
 " Here they shall find, for all the tLorld, ilm domestic 
 of the every rvhereJ" I had scarcely entered the shop 
 when I was accosted by a tall stout youth, who jumped 
 from under the counter, with an arch countenance, a rag- 
 ged green coat, a huge shillelagh under his arm, and a 
 shamrock iu his hat. ' Oeh I IMonsieur, here's I^rry 
 O'Vocative, formerly Lalinjusher to Father CDiddle'era, 
 of Pig-trough-alley, Dououghadce : fait, sir, he's hoon 
 to votre sarvent, hire me, and you'll have no cause to re- 
 pent at all, at ail : ray coat's out at elbows, and I am out 
 of place, I hope w<i shall both soon get in again.' This 
 Anglo-Gailican-Hibcauian address, 1 own at first rather 
 startled me. * Yon want a place, said I.' — * As sure as 
 the I.iffy's the Liny, Larry O'Vocative knows his way 
 from onr end of Paris to ihe other blindfolded, speaks 
 French like a nabob, y<»ur honour.' ' Well, your address 
 proves you mai^tcr of three languages, English, Irish, and 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 95 
 
 French.' '^Leave alone the Latin, Sh?' * O ! Wliut Latin 
 too?' Yes, sir, Larry O'Vocative formerly Latin usher to 
 Father 0*Diddle*em, of Pig-trough alley, that is * Jecta 
 il-y-a!" * Well, well, I suppose Larry you can show uie 
 the lions.' ' Is it the lions you're maning sir; yes, and 
 the typfers and the elephants into the bargain.' * Well, 
 you'll serve to amuse, if not to instruct me, so consider 
 yourself hired, there's my card, call upon me to-morrow 
 morning at twelve.' 
 
 My tirst visit was to the garden of the Thuilleries — on 
 my entering, two of my senses were astonished, it ap- 
 peared like fairy land, every thing I saw reminded me of 
 Paris, while all I heard, if it were not for a stray superb, 
 here and there, of the dull routine of St. James's Park, 
 Imagine the astonishment a person must experience, who 
 having rubbed up all his friends for the occasion, meets 
 with the following sounds. *How do, Tommy ? How are 
 you ? Can you tell me where I can get change ? I have 
 got plenty of Bank notes, but not one Napoleon, but 
 where are you ?' * At Kiilewack's! That coat won't do, 
 snufF colour is quite out, now, pea green's the word, — 
 chocolate trowsers — too long a waist, horrid fit, who's 
 the smider?' * Never saw you so out of taste in all my 
 life.' * How do, sir,' ' one good stare deserves another' — 
 * how be ye, snip.' — ' Ah ! my dear Bill, I thought I left 
 you fast asleep at Donarlson's library,' ' Yes, so you did, 
 but Sir J. brought nae over in his yacht, and cursed sick 
 I was of him and his yacht too, before 1 got here.' *How 
 do you do, sir, I am glad to see you.' ' Sir, I believe you 
 have the advantage of me.' * Have I ? then by the powers 
 I'll keep it.' ' Ha ! Miss Jemima, how do you do, where 
 are you at, pray?' * Why we are at Morice's.' * Indeed, 
 and who are you with ?' ' The Curriers.' * And who are 
 the Curriers ?' * Them in the leather line, in Tooley- 
 street.' * How do you do ; Mr. Simier, I believe, of 
 Addle-hill !' ' Are you still with your uncle, in Simmery- 
 Axe ?* * Hush, don't talk so loud, people quizzes so here.' 
 ' Yes sir, I am still with the old gentleman.' * Indeed ! 
 well and how is he?' ' Quite hearty, thank'ee ; but like 
 the rest on us, he is gone on his travels.' ' Indeed, and 
 where is the old soap-boiler gone to, aye ?' * Gone to the 
 Greek Islands.' * To the Greek Islands ? a soap-boiler in 
 
96 THEATRK AL BUDGET. 
 
 Greece ? Well, that's very good I' Presently afterwards, 
 1 iaw two persons in an altercation ; one was a short fat 
 man, in a brown hob wig, black calimanco small-clothes, 
 short gaiters, and blue coat ; the other, a tall masculine 
 woman, with a large quarto book under lier arm, and 1 
 saw by her manner the lady wished to address me ! — 
 
 * Don't ax him,' says her companion, ' you'll be quizzed, 
 1 tell you he's not an Englishman, look it out o 'dictionary/ 
 
 * Well, I am sure he is an Englishman !' * I tell you he 
 an't, look at his legs, too lung and thin.' The lady here 
 addressed me, ' Pray sir, can you tell me what's the 
 French for ' to have.' * Avoir, ma'am/ * Then if I say 
 to a French gentleman, I want, I must say, * Nous avoir/ 
 
 * No, ma'am, nous avous.' ' Dear me, it is very diffi- 
 cult, what a deal we have to learn when we come to 
 foreign parts ; put that down in your pocket-book, Mr. 
 Finsbury, — no, I'll set it down myself, N-e-ws-a-v-o-u-g. 
 Now, sir, the French for no,' * non ;' * thankee , sir,^ 
 the French for nothing ?' ' non chose.' * Now, Mr. Fins- 
 bury, you shall hear me speak to that beggar that 
 has been following us down the walk, in proper 
 French.* (Beggar J — 'Messieurs! Madame!' 'New* 
 avong, non chose. There ! that's as much as to say, we- 
 have gut no small change.' IMr. Finsbury himself then 
 addressed me, who I immediately discovered to be a 
 Yorkshire-man. 'Thankee, sir, fur what you told my 
 wife — very much obliged to you, sir, for setting she to 
 rights : you must know, sir, folks told I, and so they told 
 my wife, we should parZe roo vary weel, if shoo carried 
 dictionary and 1 carried grammar j we had nothing to da 
 but look out words, as we wanted them ; but I find 
 out that won't do, they speak it so damned fast, and 
 through the nose wi' sic a twang, sa I gets into terrible 
 scrapes, when 1 come to Killeicax, I think they call him. 
 When I gat up at morning I wanted some cold water, for 
 they had'n't put na into room, sa I didn't kna what to 
 call for. 1 recollected a friend of mine in caftee-room, 
 called out (larson, so up came a hoy, who was waiter ;^ 
 sa I went a-top o'stairs, and called out Garsong ! Gar- 
 song! I found that would'nt do, for up came an old 
 man, I'm sure he was sixty, aud 1 said he's no boy. Pit 
 lake my oath : sa I found that war wrong, it war chamber- 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 97 
 
 Uiaid I wanted, sa I looked it out u' diclionaiy, and I 
 called out Garsong feminine ! and they laaf d at me. I 
 looked into dictionary for water, and I found it war O. 
 So I got at top of stairs, and called out O! O ! O! when 
 my wife came out and thought 1 war taken ill, sa up cam 
 chambermaid, and I guessed by her looks she wanted to 
 know whether I wanted warm or cold. So she said * Old 
 chosp-y sa I looked into dictionary and found it was Roma ; 
 so 1 said no. Old chose JRoma. When a friend of mine 
 told me a Frenchman might as well ax in London for 
 water with a cough. Next day I got into another scrape ; 
 I war quite as badly off, for I wanted to go on next stage, 
 sa I looked it out and found it was Lon-g-gowil-le, sa I 
 said to driver — ' Avy go long de Long-gowil-hy' sa pig- 
 tail burst out a laafing, and grinning like the head of a 
 bass viol, and told me it was Long Yeal. * Well,' said I, 
 * Long Veal or Long Beef, damme if you catch me here 
 again, for I get fleeced at every turn and corner.' On my 
 return, I fouud two gentleman and a lady very busily 
 decyphering a hand-bill of a Lecture of Craniology, 
 but as I had formed a sort of watering-place acquaintance 
 with them, it may be as well to give you a slight sketch 
 of their characters. — First, there was Mr. Daniel Dowgate, 
 of a round substantial form, rather corpulent, with a wide 
 coat, large hat and short trowsers, all very outre in Paris. 
 JMr. Dowgate prided himself very much upon being a 
 regular John Bull, and came on purpose to make com- 
 parisons between Paris and London, and always in favour 
 -of the latter. His companion was decidedly the reverse ; 
 Mr. Marmaduke Manikin, junior, partner in a pin manu- 
 factory, and was known by the name of the Little Pin 
 Dandy, and affecting to hate every thing English, al- 
 thoug he knew nothing of the world vilest of Temple Bar, 
 ov east of the Tower of London. The widow Loquax, if 
 the words, as Pope says, " are as leaves" the widow may 
 boast as fine foliage as Windsor Great Park. On reading 
 the bill, the widow observed, she hated all lectures, they 
 were, generally speaking, so dull, and the lecturer had all 
 the talk to himself — no such thing as getting a word in 
 edgeways, which was very disagreeable. Mr. Manikin 
 said, he was exceeding fond of lectures; he attended one 
 once in London, oii the art of memory, all done by rule; 
 I 
 
98 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 if you recollect the rules, you have no occasion t* 
 forget any thinj^ else, * Aye,' said Dowgate, * a very use- 
 ful science — very valuable information : and pray, sir, 
 what may be the name of the gentleman that gave this 
 lecture?' * His name, O, — his name was Mr. — Mr. 
 Thingumee, dear me, it's very odd, it's Mr. — iMr. — I 
 really cannot recollect hi.s name 5 but his rules were 
 excellent.' * Well, sir,' said Dowgate, * you can, perhaps, 
 tell us something of the rules.' * The rules — O, the rules 
 — there it is you see — the rules are so devilish difficult to 
 recollect, if you can but remember the rules, you cannot 
 forget any thing else, in the world.' * Aye, sir, that's a 
 very classical, correct, explanation ; a clear, happy, and 
 methodical account. Perhaps, sir, you may know what 
 Craniology is? — Catch the idea!* * Why no, Sir, Crani- 
 ology ! can't say 1 ever heard of it, sir.' * Perhaps the 
 gentleman can tell us,' said the widow, * what Craniology 
 is ?' * Craniology, Madam,' said I, *is a science by which 
 the character, disposition, and propensity of persons, are 
 indicated by certain lumps and bumps, in various parts of 
 the skull.' * Lumps and bumps,' replied the widow, * what 
 is craniology nothing but lumps and bumps ? I never heard 
 such nonsense in all my life j I thought phisionomy absurd 
 enough.' ' Pray, madam,' said Dowgate, * will you explain 
 what physionomy is ? for I want an explanation of some- 
 thing.' ' O yes, sir, nothing's plainer than physionomy. 
 If you look at a person's physionomy, and if you are a phy- 
 sionomist, you see what their physionomy is, and then you 
 know their physionomy, sir, and that's physionomy, sir.' 
 * A very clear account indeed,' said Dowgate, 'and very 
 satisfactory.' < Now craniology, madam,' said I, * is 
 exactly the reverse.' This naturally led us to talk of the 
 catacombs, that depository of human skulls; a party 
 was proposed and made, to which I was invited ; and as 
 I wished to see the effect it would have on the individuals 
 of the party, I was determined to attend. 'O that will 
 be charming !' said the widow, ' as the gentleman under- 
 stands craniology, he can tell us the history and anecdotes 
 of the persons who belonged to the skulls,' I ordered 
 Larry to attend me in the morning at ten, to be our guide, 
 and he was punctual. ' Larry,' said I, * Larry O'Voca- 
 tive,' < Vocative ! O, that's me I' said Larry, • when I am 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 99 
 
 here, I a»ii Lnrry O' Vocative ; and when I am not here, 
 I am Vocative Cary.' ' Vou know your >vay to the cnta- 
 corabs, Larry,' said I ; * Sure, and I do,' said the fearless 
 Hibernian, * as v. ell as St. Denis knew liis way across the 
 Liffey with his head in his mouth.' * Oh you nasty 
 fellow ! talking of having his head in his mouth; dec'are 
 he makes rae quite sick.' We entered the carriage, and 
 Larry got up behind ; the motion of the vehicle made the 
 widow's tongue swing like the pendulum of a clock. She 
 was delighted with every thing she saw : * What a charm- 
 ing place Paris is ! what long loaves ! what large melons !' 
 Do wgate complained and found fault with every thing he 
 saw. The widow continued, * W^hat a nice place Vendome 
 is!' < Damn bad Hanover-square, madam.' * What a lon^ 
 street Honore is!' * Damn bad Strand, roadam.' 'Then 
 Montmatre, sir !' ' Damn bad Primrose Hit!, madam.' W^e 
 now came to a bridge. ' Dear rae,' said the widow, ' Is this 
 oueof their boasted bridges? well! lam (juite disappointed, 
 it is not broader than Lea-bridge.' * Wide enough, ma'am, 
 for the river,' said Dowgate. * And pray what's the name 
 of the river, sir ?' * Fleet ditch, I should think, ma'am — 
 catch the idea.' ' The river, ma'am,' said I, ' is called 
 the Seine.' ' The Sane ! and pray, sir, why is it called 
 the Sane ?' * To distinguish it ma'am from the in-sane 
 who dwell upon its banks — catcli the idea.' ' Larry,' said 
 I, • what's the name of this bridge ?' * Austerlitz, sir,' 
 said Larry j but 1 .saw by his countenance this was a hap- 
 hazard solution, so I called to the driver, * What's the 
 name of this bridge, my lad ?' * Oui, Messieurs, it is de 
 Pont-neuf.' * There, Larry,' said J, 'you see you were 
 wrong.' * Fait, sir, and uint Pont-neuf French fur 
 Austerlitz ? but Propria qui Marihus dicas, as Pliny 
 uays, in his memoirs of the French Revolution.' I pre- 
 vailed upon them to stop at the Luxemburg, to see 
 Ruben's celebrated picture of the Birth and Marriage of 
 Mary de Medicis, but was told they were removed to the 
 Louvre. * Sorry for it,' said I ; * tliis was her palace, 
 i'.nd I should consider it the fittest plate for her pictures ; 
 I am no friend to such unnecessai-y changes.' * The very 
 words,' said Dowgate, * I said at our ward dinner, last 
 l'U^^r IVfonday, my very words,— Mr. President, said 1, 
 
 I 2 
 
100 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 I am an enemy to all unnecessary changes ; its exactly 
 what they have done to Gog ami Magog, in Guildhall ^ 
 they used to stand facing you when you went in, but now 
 they are stuck at the other end — the old idea of their 
 coming <lovvn when the clock strikes, is now quite ridicu- 
 lous, for they can't hear it — catch the idea.' We had now 
 arrived at the Barrier om/o, and shortly afterwards entered 
 the Catacombs, seven flights of stone stairs, long galleries, 
 large rooms, all lined round with human bones and skulls. 
 The horror at first sight, struck a momentary silence on 
 the whole party, even the widow could not articulate a 
 word ; Dovvgate, who recovered his speech first, said, 
 * O ! what, this is the Catacombs, is it? A regular hum- 
 bug, St. Martin's bone-house multiplied by twelve.' * But 
 you must allow,' said Manikin, * you never saw such 
 handsome skulls in England.' * There,' said our guide, 
 who understood just enough of English to make himself 
 understood, * there is seven millions of skulls,' * Did ever 
 count them ?' said Larry. * But I have,' said a gentle- 
 man, who seemed very busily emplovcl. * VVhy, what's 
 he about?' said Dowgate. * He's putting them to rights '.' 
 said the guide. * Putting them to rights ! why they seem 
 in a debtor and creditor sort of order ; all regular, like the 
 buckets in our vestry — catch the idea.' ' He is arranging 
 them according to their different appetites and disposition 
 of dead skulls. I never heard such nonsense in all my 
 life/ * Dat's all owing to your ignorance,' said a grave, 
 philosophical-looking person, who now came forward and 
 said, * You never heard my lecture ; stand around and 
 
 make a circle, and I will deliver it to you.* 1 left my 
 
 friends to enjoy their lecture, while 1 bent my course 
 another way. 
 
 On one of those evenings when there is no public amuse- 
 ment, which happens I believe about six times in the 
 year, I was dining solus, as Larry expressed it, with three 
 or four friends, when I was invited by a family of my 
 acquaintance, to spend the evening at Mcurices ; on my 
 
T.RIP TO PA^IS. 101 
 
 arrival, and as* J jscleiv^d the ro^vnj,, 1 > was. sUutk. with 
 surprise at seeing a very ol^ lady — a very old acquaintance. 
 An old Scotch lady, who was sitting between two gentle- 
 nien, one who had been singing, and the other was pre- 
 paring to sing : she immediately recognised ine, and 
 goodnaturedly reproached me with telling a story that 
 made the folks laugh, in a mail coach, on a former occa- 
 sion : she should now take her revenge, by teliing me a 
 story that nobody should laugh at. An opportunity soon 
 occurred, when she related the following little anecdote, — 
 (^Dresses himself like an old Scotch woman.) I canua 
 sufficiently apologise to the company, for attempting to 
 entertain them after the many excellent songs and anec- 
 dotes they have heard during the evening ; but as I am just 
 called up, 1 canna very wecl resist adding my mite to the 
 conviviality of the evening — its na worth the telling — it^s 
 merely a little anecdote which really happened to my poor, 
 dear, dead husband, who is dead and gone ; he was the 
 minister of the kirk, and was a mon universally respected, 
 not only by his parishioners, but by the public at large. 
 There had been a week of vary dripping wet, it was vary 
 wet, and my poor, dear, honest mon, was vary badly wi a 
 cauld, vary badly indeed ; and he was vary fractious, vary 
 fractious indeed, and gave me a deal of trouble ; and Doctor 
 Henry happened to call in to see my poor, dear, honest 
 mon, for he was a vary good feeling body; it was that 
 Dr. Henry that used to distribute good books, and 1 wish 
 they were more read by the rising generation : and aays he 
 to him, that is, says Doctor Henry to my poor, dear, 
 honest mon — its vary dripping weather ; and says my 
 poor, dear, honest mon to Doctor Henry, my worthy 
 colleague, I wish thee would gi' the word for me at kirk 
 next Sunday forenoon, for you'll mind this, they took the 
 sarvice between them time and time about — forenoon and 
 afternoon — diet by diet ; and it was ray poor, dear, honest 
 mon's turn to gi the word that forenoon, ahd he said, he 
 wishM he'd gi the word for him, and he said he would, 
 and I was vary much obliged to him, for Dr. Henry was a 
 vary good natured body, and I thanked him, for I was 
 very thankful ; and Sunday was another vary diipping day 
 — vary wef, vary wet indeed •, and Doctor Henry called on 
 I 3 
 
102 THKATRlCi^L BUDGET. 
 
 my -jwprf di«ir, houf'st moH on Iris' \/{<y-tw the kirk, and 
 »ay§ he to him, that is, says Doctor Henry to my poor, 
 dear, honest mon, I wish thee may tak* na cauld again, 
 for its vary wet. And he dripp'd the rain offhisroat, 
 and dodded the rain from his hat, for he was extraordinary 
 wet, poor mon he was vary wet, for mind this, there was 
 no umbrellas in those days ; and said Doctor Henry, said 
 he, I wish I was dry again. Now mind this, for this is 
 the point of the story j upon which, my poor, dear, honest 
 mon says, though in fact he was not much given to 
 joking, yet he could not vary well resist the opportunity ; 
 so says my poor worthy mon, now mind this, for its the 
 point of the story, when the Doctor said be wished he was 
 di'y again; my poor, honest body, oh, the wasr, said to 
 his worthy coadjutor, • gang thy ways up into the pulpit, 
 and thee'il be dry enough there I warrant.' 
 
 After I left the old Scotch lady, I began to think of re- 
 turning to England, to which end I made preparations ; but 
 my friends, who were too fond of France to leave it in a 
 hurry, determined to remain there sometime longer, and 
 out of respect, true respect to me, a grand rout was given, 
 where, being supposed to have a little knowledge in 
 Theatrical matters, was questioned about Theatres and 
 Theatricals in England, whereupon I gave ttiem the fol- 
 lowing picture of a Theatre, which 1 trust will not be 
 considered too highly coloured : — 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Of a playhouse, in a playhouse, a playhouse I sing, 
 'Tis my subject, my pride, and my judge ; 
 
 For having exhausted each theme you can bring, 
 Now to laugh at ourselves we don't grudge. 
 
 We'll suppose you arrivM at the box or pit entry. 
 
 Ten hands are thrust into your coach ; 
 After the jostle's so great between the police and sentry, 
 
 'Tis a CENTURY before you approach. 
 
 f Spoken in different voices) — Choice fruit, or a bill of 
 the play.— Buy a bill of a poor boy, sir, you'll want one 
 when you gel into the house. — Where are you squeezing 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. lOS 
 
 to I — Take care of this lady, will you? — I'm sure I can't 
 help it, while they keep crowding behind. — Bless me, sir, 
 how sharp your elbows are ! — Excuse me, ma'am, but it's 
 you're so very fat, that's the reason. — Box tickets for six 
 shillings ; take two in the pit, and save a shilling. — I say, 
 you Bill, where have you got to? — Oh! I'm under Ihfa 
 here fat gentleman's legs, papa. — Gallery tickets for eigh 
 teen-pence ; if you have more tickets than you want, sir, 
 ril buy them of you.— Sare, you will hav de goodness io 
 inform me if dis is Drury Lane, or de Garden Common. 
 — This is Covent Garden, sir, Drury Lane is moved into 
 Brydges-Street : Drury Lane used to be in the Strand. — I 
 remember Drury Lane in the Hay market. — Ha, ha i there's 
 a bull ! — A bull ! bless me, where ? — What a shame to let 
 those mad creatures run about the street.— Come, come 
 along, Mary ! where are you ?— I've lost my shoes !— 
 Shoo, shoo ! never mind that ; push on, there's plenty of 
 room.— Where ?— In my pockets, for youVe got both your 
 hands there. — How dreadful hot it is ! — Back, back there ! 
 the pit's full ! — Ah ! that's always the case at this house : 
 they fill the pit before the doors are opened.— Well, then, 
 where are you driving to ? — Oh, 
 
 I'm j^oing to the play, 
 Where, with spirits so gay, 
 Wit, music and harmony mingle. 
 
 'Ere the boxes are fiU'd, in the lobbies you meet, 
 Where e'en ladies themselves bear the brunt ; 
 
 And squeezing thro' numbers, to get a good seat, 
 Are crowded all round to the front. 
 
 The pit parties ramble all over the place. 
 Till they're seated at ease, great and small. 
 
 While the gallery guests fill the benches apace, 
 And with discord for harmony bawl. 
 
 (Spohen) — Halloo ! you catgut scrapers ! strike up 
 there, will you ? — Rule Britannia. — Moll in the Wad. — 
 Down, Down ! — Hats off! — Silence ! — Down in front !— 
 That fellow, now, bawling out silence, makes more noise 
 
104 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 iban all the rest of them. — Apples, pears, oranges, uul», 
 cakes, bill of the performances, book of the songs. — Come 
 get up there, sir, that's my seat. — I say it's not your 
 seat.— Yes, it is ; I was sitting next to that there lady 
 with the brandy bottle j I've ouly been out to get a drop 
 of aniseed. — Any seat ? — I tell you there's no scat here. — 
 Sir, I'll be very much obliged to you, if you will let my 
 little girl stand up, she never was at a play before ; 
 there, my dear, take care you don't tumble over into the 
 pit. — Law! mamma, is it full of water? — Pretty dear ! 
 what an innocent remark ! — Mrs. Fillagree's places ; five 
 young ladies, and their mamma! — Dear me, ma', if there 
 an't two young gentlemen got our seats ! — Well, I declare, 
 that's vastly ungeuteel, after I came all the way myself, 
 yesterday, to take places. — Permit me ma'am, to speak to 
 them ? — I'm sure sir you're vastly polite. — Come out of 
 that, then, will you ? — What do you mean, sir ? Come out 
 of this, then ! — Out of this, and out of that ; I don't 
 understand you ? — Och I then 1 must be after making a 
 taylor of my fist, and taking measure of you for a black 
 eye. — I'm keeping this seat for a gentlemau, and 1 shant 
 give it up. — First act over! — There, sir, the first act's 
 over 5 you can't keep seats any longer j you must give it 
 up.— Must I? — Yes, you must. — Tljca, like some others, 
 I'll resign when 1 am obliged to turn out. — Move that 
 shawl ! — I shall not. — Take away that tippet. — I'll tip it 
 to you, if you do. — These are puns I suppose : a man thai 
 would make a pun, v.-ould pick a pocUet ; what do you 
 think? — W'^hy, sir, I dont know what to think, 1 am 
 taken exceedingly ill, I should like to get out. — What did 
 you pay for coming in ?— Seven shillings, sir. — OfiVr them 
 half a guinea, 1 dare say they'll let you go out. — shut that 
 box door. — I can't come in, and I'm sure I shant go out. — 
 Boxkeeper, shut the door: takeaway this ruan, and bring 
 tne a gentleman. Why don't you do as I ordered you ? 
 bring me a gentleman, — Sir, I've been all round the iubliVi 
 and I can't find one. — What vulgarity ! I remember Mr. 
 Garrick ; in his time there was some order in the house ! 
 —Sir, if you were to ask the managers, you'd find they 
 had ORDERS enough in the house now. — What's thejilay ? 
 Blue Dcvilp, sir.— Oh, wc have plenty of them at home. — 
 
TRIP TO PARIS. 105 
 
 Devil among the Taylors. Sir, that's a personal reflection. 
 — Sir, how should I know you were a taylor ? — Sir, there's 
 my card : come, no shuffling ; Chalk Farm I — Chalk 
 faces! — Leave off that noise, will you? its very odd that 
 some people will talk and disturb other people, who come 
 to hear what the people say upon the stage. — What did you 
 come for ?— Come for ! — why, 
 
 I came to see the play. 
 Where with spirits so gay, 
 Wit, music, and harmony mingle. 
 
 The performances done, with smiles and with laughter. 
 
 Each countenance is sure to be lit up; 
 For, if haply the first piece is tragic, the after 
 
 Is sure to change grief to a tit-up. 
 
 And now, one by one, all our lights cease to burn, 
 
 While the company they go out too ; 
 Yet, like stars, we must hope, they go out to return. 
 
 For, to us, there are no stars like you. 
 
 (Spoken) — Coach to the City. — Coach unhired. — Four 
 shillings to Hyde Park Corner. — Three and sixpence tu 
 Tattcuham Court Road. — Want a coach, your honour f — » 
 Yes. — What number ? — One, to be sure; that's enough at 
 once.— Coach to St. Mary Axe. — Are you hired ? — Ax 
 about. — Take that fellow's number; take his number j 
 he is the most impertinent fellow under all the P — h's. — 
 Take my number ! you may take my name, too, if yow 
 like; I'm Saucy Dick, used to drive thelon«: Isleworth.— 
 Remember the poor link-boy, your grace. — Out of the way, 
 you graceless dog ! — Pray my lord duke! — ^There's two- 
 pence for you. — You a duke ? you're a rum duke, then !— 
 Drive to Duke's Place. — Well, Thomas, have you got a 
 coach ?— No, sir : I've been all down the Strand, and up 
 to Charing Cross, and can't get one. — Bless me, I shall 
 catch my death of cold, only got thin shoes, and no 
 ehawl ! — Well, well, its your own fault ; all pride ought 
 $0 dress for the weather. — I'm very sorry to say, my lady. 
 
i06 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 your carriage is broke, the pauuels drove in, and your 
 arms— Oh, dear ! my arms destroyed, my lord j thiuk of 
 that! — Nevermind; make use of mine, my lady. — Well, 
 ma'am, how have you been entertained? — Very well, sir, 
 thank you : and my dear little girl has been quite pleased ; 
 never was at a playhouse before ! — Did you like it, my 
 love ? — Oh, yes sir, very much indeed. — She'll have it a!i 
 off to-morrow morning, quite perft ct, every word. — And 
 what did you see, my dear ? — Oh, sir, there was a gen- 
 tleman, sung a song so bad, they made him sing it all 
 over again — Infantine simplicity! what a pretty remark ! 
 —And pray, which did you like best? — Oh, sir, the 
 song.— 
 
 What, the soiig about the play. 
 Where with spirits so gay. 
 Wit, humour, and harmony mingle. 
 
TRAVELS 
 
 IN 
 
 EARTH, AIR, AND WATER. 
 
 Being anxious to rise in the world, I knew it was ne- 
 cessary to hit upon a plan to aid me in my purpose — and 
 my reason for so doing was, because I have been advised 
 to drop my amusements or they would drop me. The cry 
 was, there is nothing new — all authors agreed upon this 
 point, therefore, 1 at length determined to strike out 
 something new myself, and, if possible, keep up my credit 
 with those who have so long fostered me with their kind- 
 ness and applause. 
 
 My friend, Mr. Guffin, who frequently visits me at 
 Highgate, was one of the number who was continually 
 arguing about the necessity of procuring something very 
 uncommon, or he could certainly foretel that I should one 
 day descend. 
 
 * Aye aye,' says I * Mr. Guffin, I shall descend to a 
 certainty, but it will not be to rise no more.' 
 
 * Why what do you mean to do, man?' was liis ex- 
 clamation. 
 
 I mean to take a voyage — in a balloon, Mr. Guffin.— 
 Upon which he turned up his spectacles, and gazed at me 
 as if he thought I was mad 5 and his daughter, the 
 amiable Miss Guffin, with many other friends, endea- 
 voured to dissuade me from my purpose, but all without 
 effect ; for, knowing some little of the \vorld, its misfor- 
 tunes and little troubles, I was well aware that there 
 were but few methods of gaining ascendancy in this tran- 
 sitory life, and felt perfectly assured that the only way iu 
 which I could effectually rise in life, was to go up iu a, 
 Balloon. 
 
108 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 All waft prepared — the Balloon was in order, and eu- 
 ciuEed from the gaze of the surrounding populace. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 I ONCE did tro4, but now do not, 
 Long spurs and paataloouing— 
 
 But since I've got a proper spot 
 To fly my air-balloon in, 
 
 1 now will make my pony wait 
 
 At Charing Cross, or Grosvenor Gate- 
 Once in the air, they gape and stare 
 
 And much astound, for miles around. 
 The folks with air-ballooning. 
 
 One Matthews drives men, maids, and wiies. 
 
 To town or village soon in, 
 In safety-coach, but can't approach 
 
 My plan of air-ballooning — 
 Would he like me in ether roam, 
 But I'm a sylph, and he*s a gnome — 
 Seel there they are — upset's their car ! 
 Above par, the Russian are, 
 
 Huxza! for air-ballooning! 
 
 To Brighton if you sail by steam, 
 
 The ocean you soon dip in •, 
 And if you like in coach to hike, 
 
 The Devil's Dike you're soon in : 
 But if in my balloon you share, 
 The people stare, you gather there. 
 The boiler bursts, upsets the beam. 
 And spills yon out like scalded cream'— 
 
 Oh joyful air-ballooning I 
 
 Polito's men have got a den 
 To keep a large baboon in. 
 
 And I havf seen a large machine 
 To trnvrl to the moon in — 
 
AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 109 
 
 The devil on two crutches rid 
 Above the steeples of Madrid — 
 What caie I what the devil did, 
 Unfurling flag, I fly zigzag — 
 Huzza! for air-baliooning ! 
 
 If you look o*er your tailor's score. 
 That came last Wednesday noon in. 
 
 And find it run up to a sum 
 That almost sets you swooning. 
 
 Come take in air, a Margate trip. 
 
 And have your snieder on the hip. 
 
 You very much astonish snip. 
 As up you go and leave below. 
 Poor Johnny Doe and Richard Roe, 
 
 Too slow for air-ballooning ! 
 
 All was prepared — all in readiness for the ascension, 
 !»ut ceremony would not allow me to depart so soon as I 
 4 xpected, for however anxious a body may feel, one 
 Von't like to be thought ill-natured when we are going 
 t o rise in the world. 
 
 1 was soon agreeably surprised by the appearance of a 
 little army of friends — the plot thickening, and the bal- 
 loon beginning to inflate, I made signals to the attendants 
 to prepare the little dejenn6 a lu fourchette I had pro- 
 Tided in a snng corner of the inclosure. Mr.GufBn 
 led the way, a worthy man, but no conjuror, who had 
 retired from the bustle of city-life to enjoy his rural 
 seclusion at Stockwell. There he has established himself 
 in a yellow clay tenement, which he calls The Hermitagey 
 .with a brass knocker and a number on the door, a lamp 
 at the gate, and his own name in gilt letters on black 
 looking-glass, corroborating, as he calls it, with the 
 direction to ring the bell on theopposite entrance. There 
 he dwells, an amateur receiver of the Surrey dust; for 
 so close to the roadside is his house, that the servant- 
 maid is obliged every morning to brush his laurels as she 
 does his baize, to keep them green. Here dwells also the 
 partner of his dust and solitude, his amiable daughter, 
 3 iss Lavjnia Guffin, who having gone the length of a 
 
 K 
 
110 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 cockney boarding-school education, fancies lursdl fa tage 
 and a wit, apes the manners of learned ladies, and when 
 she enters her own lillie circle, mounts her pedestal to be 
 worshipped with as much ease and assurance as the bluest 
 of the blues of London. Mr.Guffin introduced me to bis 
 daughter, who rallied me pleasantly enough on my love 
 of acoustics^ as she was pleased to call aerostation: and 
 she introduced me to a friend of hers, one Mrs. Damper, 
 a teller of unpleasant truths with an angelic countenance, 
 who pursed up her mouth at every word she uttered like 
 the aperture of a poor's box, and cast up her eyes with a 
 benignity truly seraphic. ' How do you do r' * Very well, 
 madam, 1 thank you,'* said I. * What can make you 
 risk yourself sol however, that's your business you 
 know.' * No particular risk, ma'am.' * 1 thought there 
 was a great deal, but you are the best judge.' ' There's 
 risk in every thing/ 1 replied. ' Yes, wish you may come 
 down safe— cords are but cords, silk is but silk — seem to 
 be in such spirits too.' ' I never heard of any particular 
 accident happening to a balloon,' said I. ' Not many, to 
 be sure— 1 don't wish to put you out of spirits.' * So I 
 perceive, ma'am.' * No, but there was Rosiere dashed to 
 pieces at Boulogne, and poor Montgolfier shared the 
 same fate — but that's a long time ago now.' 'Yes, 
 ma'am.' * And there was poor Madame Blanchard— she 
 was dashed to pieces ; but that's no reason why you 
 t»bould, you know.' * No ma'am.' • 'Twas a beautiful 
 day, just such a day as this.' * But that was a long 
 time ago, you know, ma'am.' * Yes, but then there was 
 poor Madame Garnerin went up a few month.s ago, and 
 bat not been heard of since — don't wish to put you out of 
 spirits-^-rpvay how's your wife ? your widow 1 should have 
 said, for she will be to-morrow I dai'e say— have you 
 q)ade your will ?' ' Yes ma'am, and have appointed you.' 
 -,* What ?' * One of Job^s roviforters .' / Indeed! that's very 
 good^^and in such spirits too, considering I' * What can 
 induce you,' said all the ladies at ouce, ' to risk your- 
 self in this mauoer ?' * Really,' said I, * ladies, I cannot 
 tell ; I have a particular wish to rise in the world — I 
 thought it would be highli/ amusmg-— that it would be 
 above vvery thin^ agreeable ou earth — and that I might 
 then «^claim with some of our cockney MHcfaeaths, ' Hovr 
 
AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. Ill 
 
 happy could 1 be vf'xth ether ;* — and that yoii might say, 
 with some truth, there was uot such another oiaa upon 
 earth: 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Once a breakfast at most, was tea, coffee, and toast. 
 
 With some honey and raspberry jam. 
 But now they include, beef, roasted and stewed. 
 Macaroni, mock turtle, lamb, chicken, and ham ; 
 At about four we get. 
 Our de la fourchette. 
 For those who begin to grow thinner) 
 It would puzzle the pride 
 Of the devil to decide, *• 
 
 Whether meant for a breakfast or dinner, 
 
 C Spoken) — * How do ? glad to see you/ ' Fine day.* 
 Remarkably pleasant weather.* * Sophia and Matilda, take 
 my advice, and sit down, there'll be such scrouging by- 
 and-by/ ' La ! Pa, shan't we have a walk to get an appe- 
 tite for our breakfast.' ' Pshaw ! you had better get a seat 
 while you can, and get a breakfast for your appetite.' 
 ' Look at that miserly old fellow — old Shave-an-egg ; 
 what brought him here ? I wonder who treats him ! I'm 
 sure he doesn't pay.' * He's immensely rich.' 'Yes.* 'I'm 
 told be intends to give ^10,000 with his daughter.' 
 
 * Indeed ! have at him, save him a £1000 — ah ! how do, 
 Shave-an-egg ?' * Hush, ha ! ha 1' * What !' ' Mus*nt call 
 him Shave-an-eggy it's a nickname.' * Well, you told me, 
 it is all your fault, a — Mr. — a — they tell me you intend 
 giving your daughter £10,000.' 'Well, sir, and what then?' 
 
 * I'll save you a thousand, and take her with nine.'* 
 
 * Who's that ?' ' Oh! that's Twizzle, the punster.' * I hope 
 you will not let us have any of your puns yet ; now I 
 shall make one rule with you ; no puns till the cloth is 
 removed.' ' Who's that?' ' Mr. Omnium, the stockbroker. 
 They tell me he waddled; last week.' ' Mr. Omnium, 
 allow me to help you to a little duck.* ' That's personal I 
 declare.' * Who's that ?' ' That's Sir Simon Daub, the 
 amateur artist.' ' How did he come ?' ' In his own coach 
 and four horses, afraid he should not be here in time-' 
 
 * I don't wonder at it, if his horses don't draw btltei-| than 
 himself.' 'Who is that?' 'That's Mr. and Mrs. Cheese- 
 
 K2 
 
112 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 man, they are just married.' 'Happy couple, fine woman !' 
 ' Charming !* * What do you think of him ?' ' 1 nerer saw 
 such a goose in my life.' * Wiss Crotchet, will you favour 
 us with a ditty?' * After dinner, sir' ' What are those black 
 fellows ?' * Oh ! that's the band.' ' Now do Miss Crotchet, 
 and perhaps the band will accompany you.' ' O I then that 
 will be a hand-ditty, you know.' 
 
 Thus hob and nobbing, tea, and wine. 
 
 With company combining ; 
 In gay delight, from morn till night, 
 
 While breakfasting or dining. 
 
 Some tables are dmwn out in front of the lawn, 
 
 • To gain a good view of the river ; 
 But gentlemen ciy, very cold for July? 
 While the ladies so charmingly shiver. 
 
 Pray bring me my shawl, 
 
 Cries old Lady Squall, 
 While walking the terrace with her niece ; 
 
 Though the east wind now chills, 
 
 By and by the Quadrilles 
 Will make you as hot as a furnace. 
 
 {SpokenJ — * Will you allow me to help you V * You are 
 very polite.' 'What part ?' ' Any part, I am not part- 
 icular.' ' Charming weather ! quite a spring day.' ' Spring f 
 1 should think it was summer by the number of .nvallows 
 that are present.' ' Miss Guftin, will you rt-ad a bit out of 
 your Album ? I see you are not eating.' ' it's not an 
 Album sir, it's a cookery book.' ' What makes you carry 
 a cookery-iiook ?' 'How very odd !' * Most extraordinary 
 woman I ever heard of!' ' Why I'm very particular in 
 what I eat, so I always look how tilings are drest.' *1 am 
 sure she is very badly drest herself, if you come to that.' 
 ' Very droll things in a cookery-book, Miss Guffin •, will 
 you allow me to look at your cookery-book, the phrase- 
 ology is so droll, a — first split your head in tvvo, {reading). 
 'Waiter, that's a very good joke for once, but the next 
 time you come round with a tureen of soup, I'd thank 
 yon not to throw it down my back.' * How is poor dear Lady 
 
 4i 
 
I 
 
 AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 113 
 
 Neverwed V ' Dressed all to rags ; I nerer saw — ' ' Who is 
 that lady opposite ? I wish to take some wine with her/ 
 That's the widow Wedlove ; she has beea married three 
 times/ * Indeed \' ' Yes, I wonder how they do contrive to 
 get so many husbands ; for my part I can't get one, I can't 
 think how they do it/ ' First catch your fish,' (reading). 
 ' How very droll that came in/ * Shall I trouble you, sir ? 
 
 * The trouble's a pleasure ma'am/ * The ti-ouble's a plea- 
 sure — how elegant, how vastly new 1 I would have given 
 the world to have said that, the trouble's a pleasured ' Mr. 
 Puddefat, how do you find yourself?* * Oh ! very low, 
 quite depressed in spirits ; ] wish you could find me a 
 remedy. — (Reading) Put your head in scalding water, cut 
 your liver into small slices, and put a lemon in your mouth, 
 
 * Look at that Shave-an-egg, did you ever see any person 
 eat so much V ' Never, how much do you think he will 
 drink 1' ' Any ^wn quantity/ 
 
 Thus bobbing, nobbing, tea and wine. 
 With company combining j 
 From morn till night, with gay delight. 
 Whether breakfasting or dining. 
 
 The dejeune done, away the folks run. 
 
 To get back to London by seven ; 
 And mourn their hard lot, and not knowing what 
 
 To do with themselves till eleven. 
 Some carelessly drop, into Colnaghi's shop. 
 
 Like so many hard-hearted sinners ; 
 While others retreat, to the British to eat. 
 
 In one day a couple of dinners. 
 
 (^Spoken) — ' Waiter, two glasses of wine, white, one of 
 which shall be port/ 'How are the three per cents V ' Very 
 tough/ 'Miss Brisket, how do you do 1 is mamma here?* 
 No sir, she is at home nursing a cold/ ' Indeed ! why not 
 put it out to nurse ? I always do/ * Does Miss Guffin 
 rouge V ' ril ask her/ ' No, no '/ ' Yes, bless you ! I can 
 say any thing to her : Miss Guffin, excuse me, do you 
 rouge|V * How particularly rude I' * I heg your pardon, how 
 do you contrive to look so lovely V * Singe all the hair off 
 your head, and lay your eyes upon a plate. (rcadtVi^^— 
 k3 
 
114 THEATKICAL BLDGET. 
 
 • How does tlie alderman get onin the house V ' A little les; 
 tongue and more brains, if you please 1' 'Tljere's old 
 Prolix.' ' lie's very old, ant he V * Yes, quite in his 
 miecdotage.* ' How do Iloruer? how's your wife?' * How's 
 yours, if you go to that?' ' Expect any one down by the 
 steamer 1' 'Yes, sir.' ' Son, sir 1' ' No, sir.' ' Daughter, sir?' 
 No, sir.' * Who then, sir V ' Why my wife, if you must 
 know ; very inquisitive! who the devil is he? pray sir do 
 
 I know you"?' ' You have the advantage of me,' sir.' ' Have 
 
 II then I'll keep it.' 'Poor Dismal ! they tell me he is 
 dead ; poor fellow ! he was to have dined here to day ; 
 what was his complaint ?* ' A deviled gizzard, (readitig) 
 Pray sir, has he left any hair T ' Hair I no ma'am, he died 
 bald.' 'I beg pardon, sir, that is not wliat T mean ; did he 
 leave much money ?' ' No, ma'am, he died insolvent.' 'No 
 sir, I beg your pardon, he died in Middlesex, to my cer- 
 tJvin knowledge.' ' There's one comfort, he had the very 
 best of advice, every thing that could be done, was 
 done.' ' 1 beg your pardon, sir, the pork griskin wasn't half 
 done.' 
 
 Thus bobbing, nobbing, lea and wine, 
 With company combining ; 
 From morn till night, with gay delight, 
 ^Vhether breakfasting or dining. 
 
 My anxiety begqin to increase — but what was I to do 
 under existing circumstances — f am naturally of a diffident 
 disposition, and am as easily led as my lady's lap-dog ; 
 and if there is any tiait in luy character which may be 
 construed into respect, it is my unwillingness, at all times, 
 to forsake my female friends and acquaintance. 
 
 After our hasty repast, I remarked a sort of tidgetty 
 solicitousness about Miss Guflin, who smiled and looked 
 what she thought uncommonly interesting — it grew rather 
 particular, and I smiled and nodded in return, with a sort 
 of enquiring countenance. At last, she pointed to a book 
 under her arm, significantly smiling, and said, ' T wish 
 you would — do — ' ' What do you mean {' said J. ' I have 
 such a favour to beg of you.' ' 1 ilon't understand,' said I. 
 • My Album, given to me by a Irieud — 1 always carry it 
 fibout me — the clasp is gold, and the leaves are gold, and 
 
AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 115 
 
 the cliain is fi;o]d that fastens it round my neck every night 
 when I go to bed. I am a great collector of Autographs 
 of remarkable persons, Epitaphs, and Original Poetry. 
 I collect whatever is remarkable or interesting — I put 
 nothing into it that is not entirely original. If you would 
 favour me by writing your name in it before you go up.' 
 ' Aye, pray do,' says Mrs. Damper, with one of her ex- 
 cruciating smiles — 'for if yon should be killed, you know, 
 it will be so interesting, as the last thing you put to paper 
 in this world.' ♦ Allow me to look at your Album, Miss 
 Guffin,' said I. I opened the book at Collection of Origi- 
 nal Poetry, as she called it ; the first that struck my sight 
 was the following 
 
 EPITAPHS. 
 
 * Affliction sore, long time I bore, 
 Physicians was in vaiii.' 
 
 ' I think I have met with that before,' said I. ' O no, 
 quite impossible I' replied Miss Guffin: 'quite original, 
 1 assure you — I never gave a copy away — I only had it 
 on condition that I promised never to part with it. I had 
 it from a gentleman's sister, that had it of the author.' 
 * I am sorry,' I replied, * for the prohibition.' On looking 
 a little further, I saw 
 
 * Quite well at ten, had a few friends to sup ir?' me. 
 At twelve taken ill, and at one all was up uV me^ 
 
 ' The body of John Palfreeman lieth here. 
 Aged twenty four years ; 
 x\!ear this place hii mother lies, 
 Aho his father when he dies,' 
 
 • Here's one much better, Miss Guffin. Do let me set it 
 down.* 
 
 ' Here lies the body of Sir John Jolly, ' 
 Our lute Lord Mayor, 
 
 l\ ho has left this here world, and gone to that there: 
 He never lived at other mans expense, 
 So Hj«i soit (pii mal y pense.' 
 
116 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 ' Here lies in dust, alas ! the more's the pity. 
 The body of' Nkholas New City :' 
 N. B.-'^His name was Newtovm, but that would not rhyme. 
 
 ORIGINAL LINES BY LORD EYROW. 
 
 * My name d'ye see's Tom Tough, 
 I've ten a little sarvice-^' 
 
 The following 
 
 ORIGINAL POETRY BY THE CELEBRATBD 
 SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQ. 
 
 ' I'm a brisk and lively lad. 
 And just come home from sea, Sir.' 
 
 Upon turning the next leaf I found the following— 
 
 THREE LINES BY BISHOP WARBURTON. 
 
 ' Amo Amos, 
 I love a lass, 
 As a cedar tall and slender,' 
 
 I now looked with some anxiety for the Autographs, 
 and found in a choice leaf, one line of which was destined 
 for myself to my great surprise, to contain the following 
 
 four interesting names William Hlckathrift — 'Charles 
 
 Stump — Peter Higginhottom, and Solomon Snodgrass. * Pray,' 
 said I, * Miss Guflfin, who are these persons'? I never 
 heard of them before — who are they V * No person very 
 particular,' said she, ' but they are all original communi- 
 cutions, I assure you. Snodgrass is a stock-broker — Hlck- 
 athrift is next door neighbour to my father at the Hermitage 
 —Peter Higginhottom is usher at the school at Camberweli 
 —Charles Stump is a very remarkable person ; he is the 
 man who walked from London to Brighton, 51 miles in 34 
 hours.' * Indeed, a very extraordinary undertatking truly,* 
 said I. 
 
 ' Come, my boy,' said the Major, * up we go— who's 
 afraid? all's ready — balloon — parachute — don't know 
 where we shall go — don't care — safety valve— ballast — 
 bags of sand — all ready.' ' Why you seem to know all 
 about it, Major,' said I. ' Know all about it, to be sure 
 
AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 117 
 
 I do — went up myself with Rosiere and Komaine from 
 Boulogne, forty years ago — Montgolfier balloon— tire as 
 large as the kitchen fire at the Thatched House tavern — 
 three miles high took fire — there was a blaze — all Paris 
 saw us — down we came slap-bang, like a cannon-ball, 
 2840 yards high, French measure — down we came like a 
 thunderbolt — Rosiere and Romaine, they both killed on the 
 spot, I not hurt a bit — 40 years ago — not a bit older now 
 — Pon my life its true — what will you lay its a lie ? — 
 there's muscle — feel me all over, hard as iron.' ' Hav'nt 
 time to lay wagers now. Major.' * Talking of wagers,' 
 said he, ' I'll tell you what I'll do — I'll lay you what you 
 like, go where you will, I'll follow you on horseback, and 
 be with you at your descent.' 
 
 Monsieur Arc-en-ciel now advanced, and delivered the 
 following address : 
 
 * Messieurs — Madame — 
 
 ' I vill to say someting to you of the construction and 
 utility of de grand balloon — dere never sail be any ting so 
 surprising, so beautiful yet found out on de face of de 
 globe, as to make de little man, de big man, de tomping 
 man, de every sort of man, should be cappebel of to swim 
 in de air, like de big bird, de eagle, de roc — oui de iittel 
 bird, de cock of de robin — he fly inde air for why? eh ! eh ! 
 you cannot tell, eh ! — because he have de fins. If you 
 look at de big fish, de Iittel fish, he swim about in de 
 water — for why 't eh ! — because de have de wing, mais. 
 But for de gentleman and de lady, dat have not de wings, 
 nor de fins, dis beautiful science ; I have invented for him 
 de ballance on de slieepes — de slieepes — for why you smile 
 when I say sheepes, eh? — because you do not understand 
 me, eh 1 mais, When I say sheepes, I must explain to you 
 what I should signify to mean — when I say sheepez, I do 
 not mean sheepes (cheap) which is not dear — I do not mean 
 shespes (sheep) of de mutton — I do not mean de sheepes 
 (shape) of de human figure — I dy not mean de sheepes 
 (chips) of wood — it is not de sheepes (shape) of which de 
 ladies make de chapeuu ; mais. When I say sheepes, I say 
 she-e-pes — it is of no consequence, prenez voiis, you know^ 
 what I mean ; that is to say m English, Ce'e't a dire une 
 Daiseseaii atrois mats — dat is vat I mean, adieu ! adieu ! Mes- 
 sieurs, Madame, adieu ray good Jeany Bull — sui tronquii 
 
lltj THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 my good Jean Bull. Shut your mouthes, hold your 
 teethes, if you what you call make no noise hold your 
 tong^ie, very much, by and by you shall see me go up ! 
 up ! up ! — afterwards if you look very well, you shall see 
 me go round and round — ' apres ceUi,^ you shall see me no 
 more as nothing at all.' 
 
 By this time, the enclosure where the balloon stood was 
 completely surrounded to view the wonderful ascension — 
 my friends were all anxiety for my welfare, and the gazing 
 multitude were all anxiety for the gratification of their 
 eye-sight. 
 
 For my part, I was never more easy in all my life, for 
 my mind was made up, and had all the inhabitants of 
 Europe assembled with petitions to disuade me from my 
 enterprize, I really think, so strong was my resolution, 
 that I should have allowed them to pass by me as the idle 
 wind. 
 
 The first person who appeared in the enclosure was 
 Major Longbow, the most poetical proser of the day, a 
 complete egotist ; his subject, himself; his maxim, I by 
 myself I > and was called by his friends, the Modem 
 Munchausen; and had been, as he said, in every battle, 
 from the taking of Seringapatam to the O. P. war at Co- 
 vent Garden Theatre. But his maxims are not to be told, 
 let him speak for himself.' ' Hov«^ do, major"? * How do I 
 do, how should I do, eh ? Better than any man living— 
 there's muscle — strongest man living — How do I do — pho ! 
 —no man so well as I am — 1 am reckoned the finest piece 
 of anatomy that was ever sent upon the face of the earth. 
 Upon my life its true ; what will you lay its a lie 1 Hit 
 me with a sledge hammer, if you like, can't hurt me, 
 there's muscle.' — ' Are you inclined to go up, Major?' said 
 I. 'Up! What in that thicgumy, a balloon? why I can 
 walk up higher than you'll go in that thing. When I was 
 in India I walked up an inaccessible mountain : walked 
 for five days running, four hours every day ; took me seven 
 days coming down, run the whole of the last day, and 
 danced at the Governor's ball at night. Upon my life its 
 true; what will you lay its a lie?' 'But now. Major, 
 you have an opportunity of purchasing notoriety at prime 
 
AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 119 
 
 cost.' ' Prime cost — trouble you not to mention prime 
 cost.' * Why ?' ' I'll tell you what : a few weeks ago I 
 bought a tilbury at prime cost. As I was driving through 
 the streets of London a beautiful blood mare down Hay 
 Hill — ' — ' Sire Munchausen, I suppose,' said I. ' Poh, 
 don't be foolish : well, sir, I was driving* at the rate of nine 
 and twenty miles an hour.' * Nine and twenty 1 surely. 
 Major.' — * Damme, do you doubt me. I repeat it, sir, 
 nine and thirty miles an hour. Well, sir, as I say, I was 
 driving- at the rate of nine and forty miles an hour, my 
 usual pace, I met an infernal coal-cart, seven horses in a 
 string, all as fat as f alstaff, crash goes my wheel against 
 the coal cart ; up-set me, and away went poor prime cost 
 into a million of shivers ; up spins I, made three summer- 
 sets in the air, came feet foremost through the bow window 
 of the pastry-cook's shop, corner of Berkley-street, flat 
 upon my feet, and said with the utmost coolness to Mrs. 
 Gunter, who was seated behind her own counter, Madam, 
 your most obedient, how do you do 1 Never saw a 
 
 woman more astonished wasn't hurt a bit ; there's 
 
 muscle : upon my life its true ; what will you lay its 
 a lie?' 
 
 Of course I couldn't doubt what the Major said, nor 
 had I witnesses to prove any thing against his veracity, 
 therefore we got into the balloon, and were soon floating 
 in the air to the admiration of surrounding thousands. 
 
 ' Here we go, fifty miles an hour — don't know where, 
 don't care — Mount Hecla — Bow Church Steeple — Don- 
 caster Race Course — all the same to me.' The Major 
 now took out his telescope to make his observations. 
 ' There's a telescope — have a peep at every thing — Dol- 
 land's the boy — here we go — good bye — hold fast — killed 
 if you fall — nothing hurts me — there's muscle, eh ! — there, 
 good bye, Westminster Hall — how droll — there's the 
 King's Bench ; tow small the Rules are.' ' Aye, not 
 bigger than two font rules. Major.' 'There's St. John's 
 Church, like an overturned tea-table with its four legs 
 sprawling in the air — see the Opera House, rehearsal 
 going on — see it all— pull out another joint — hear them— 
 'pon my life its true ; what will you lay its a lie V ' Well 
 Major,' I remarked, ' there has been innumerable tricks 
 served up to the public ; but it must be allowed, a balloon 
 
120 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 is a much better feat than those practised by the India n 
 Jugglers.' * Jugglers, what Jugglers V ' Those that per- 
 formed in Pall Mall.' * Jugglers — bunglers you mean. 
 Did I ever tell you what I saw a fellow do at Canton, 
 ehV ' No !' ' Tell it you now then. The Juggler took a 
 ball of cotton-thread, wound one end of it curiously round 
 the end of his little finger, threw the other up into the 
 air, up it went, up, up, and settled in the clouds, like a 
 little boy's kite — what do you think followed?' * Came 
 down again, I suppose.' ' No such thing, sir — hiaaself, 
 the Juggler.' 'I'he Juggler !' * Yes, sir, I repeat it, the 
 Juggler followed ; took hold of the other end of the cot- 
 ton, sir, up he scrambled, sir, like a monkey up a JMay- 
 pole, till he settled in the clouds too — upon my life its 
 true ; what will you lay its a lie ?' 
 
 As we first ascended, the atmosphere was colds— so 
 very cold that 1 was obliged to have recourse to my 
 brandy-bottle. The Major too had a glass or two, when 
 I observed * Major, you are fond of brandy"?' ' Fond of 
 brandy! aye — very fond of brandy, it will never hurt me. 
 I was once in a vessel with a cargo of brandy on board, 
 the Frenchmen boarded us, I killed the captain and one 
 hundred men with my own hand. But they were too 
 strong for us, all the crew surrendered but myself ; and 
 sooner than let them take the brandy, I drank two puu • 
 cheons myself, and it never hurt me. Look here's musck ? 
 Upon my soul its true, what will you lay its a lie V 
 
 I nodded ascent, and we proceeded on our aeriel 
 V03'^age, when instantaneously we were transported from 
 cold to heat; upon which 1 took out my handkerchief, 
 rubbed my forehead, and exclaimed, ' Zounds, Major, 
 how very hot.' ' Hot, what d'ye mean by hot ? pho ! I 
 have been in climates where salamanders have dropped 
 down dead with the heat of the sun. I once dined with a 
 gentleman and his wife, at CALLIHAMMA QUACK 
 ADA LORE, near CUDDERAPOO ; after dinner, as we 
 were sitting drinking, a ray of the sun struck the lady, 
 and she vanished from our sight, and nothing was left in 
 her place but a heap of ashes. I was rather surprised, 
 but my friend, who was used to these things, he called to 
 bis KiT-MA-GAns and coN-su-MAns, hithekatoo juntaa, 
 •which is in English, bring us clean glasses and sweep 
 
AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 121 
 
 away your mistress : upon icy life its true, what will you 
 
 lay its a lie *! talking of lying, I'll look at the berths, 
 
 what a little ship this is — berth, pho ! three of 'em won't 
 hold me. I was born in a berth, suckled by the ship's 
 cow until she broke her back in a storm, and then it was 
 inconvenient for her to be wet-nurse any longer — never 
 mind, nothing hurts me, there's muscle. 1 was once on 
 the main-top for three weeks and never came down, upon 
 my life its true. When I was in the West Indies, I 
 fought a duel with Major O'Feathersplit, at Chillgillyput ; 
 the first fire, the ball grazed right between my eyes, 
 bounced off at right angles like a tennis ball, killed a 
 buffalo on the spot that was feeding 280 yards off — upon 
 my life its true, what will you lay its a lie V 
 
 After this we got into a dark cloud, and should have 
 imagined ourselves in limbo, had we not been so much 
 above it. Still, dark as it was, the Major said, he had 
 been in places much darker, and swore — upon my soul its 
 true, what will you lay its a lie 1 
 
 The report of a musket from Wandsworth Common, 
 excited our attention to the spot from whence the sound 
 proceeded, and presently two sportsmen hove in sight, 
 whose garb and dialect evinced their residence to be by 
 no means out of the ear-shot of Bow-bells ; one of them 
 was forcibly pulled forward by a large dog, tied, by means 
 of two pocket-handkerchiefs from his collar to the leg of 
 his sporting master. The wind setting our way, wafted 
 the following dialogue : — ' 'Twas your fa'ut.' ' Vy then, 
 I say it varn't then.' ' And I say it vas then, and you'll 
 pay for't.' ' Pho ! my eye, a'nt a jack-daw game V 
 ' Veil, and suppose it is, 'twas a jack-ass you shot.' 
 ' Veil, how could I help it, vas'nt possible to see through 
 an NEDGE, how could 1 see vhat vas in the ditch — quiet 
 Dido, v/ill you 1 quiet I say ; the dog'll pull me into the 
 river presently. O, well appeal to this gentleman ; beg 
 pardon, sir, but pray, sir, isn't a jack-daw gamel' ' Not 
 J'air gB.m.e, sir, I replied, if we may judge from his colour.' 
 * Colour, O, aye, that's very veil lor a joke ; but that's not 
 vhat I asked, sir: an't a jack-daw game? that's vhat I ask- 
 ed ?' ' Why that,' said 1, * has been recently settled, I believe 
 in the case. Flash verms Pan.' ' Vy, he's a lawyer, Kit. 
 Pray, sir, an't you a lawyer!' 'Yes, said 1, in what 
 . L 
 
122 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 Shakspeare calls ' a brief chronicle of the times.' * Brief — 
 O, I see, yes he is a lawyer, I tell you — brief — chronicle 
 and times. What did you say, sir, about the Chronicle and 
 Times V * To revert, sir, to the law case of Flash versus 
 Pan ; you will find in Blacklock upon Poaching, page 59, 
 Chief Justice Ramrod ruled as follows, ' Quando, aimas, 
 at Jack Dawem non licensed hitterif Jack Assem.' ' Ah ! there. 
 Kit, that's all on my side I can hear, aimias — hitt-e-ry — non 
 —beg pardon, sir, say it once more, if you please, sir, 
 an^ a little slower, I vas but six veeks at Marchant Tay- 
 lor's school ; Ma, took me avay, 'cause a big- boy inked 
 my finger von morning.' * Quando, aimas, at Jack Dawem 
 non licensed hitt-e-ry Jack Assem.' * There, did'nt I tell 
 you, he that shoots Jack Daw-um is himself Jack Ass-em, 
 
 that's the meaning on it, I know. Pray, Mr. I beg 
 
 pardon, what's your name 1' ' Cripplegate ; there's my 
 card, sir.' ' I see, Cripplegate and Cahrawav, GrO' 
 cers, &^c. Bishopsgate Without, enquire within.' ' Be quiet, 
 Dido — damn the dog, be quiet, I say ; he'll pull me into 
 the river presently.' ' To be sure he -will,' says the Major ; 
 ' tie him to my leg, see if he'll pull me in ; a team of 
 oxen couldn't pull me in ; there's muscle ; 'pon my life 
 its true.' ' I am very anxious, sir, said I, for you to 
 explain, why you have that dog tied to your leg ; I have 
 heard of tying tin cannisters to a dog's tail, but I never saw 
 one tied to the leg of a sporting man before.' ' Why then 
 I'll tell you all about it, sir, from the beginning, and then 
 we shan't make no mistakes : you must know, sir, Tom 
 Treacle and I, agreed to meet a t'other side of Blackfriars 
 Bridge — no, this side — no, not on this side, t'other side — 
 no, this here side was the other side yesterday, but now 
 this side's t'other — no, no, if we were in London this 
 would be t'other, consequently this would — vhy I am 
 right, 'cause this is t'other side now we are here on this 
 side — no — veil, sir, you know vhat I mean : veil, sir, Tom 
 Treacle and I agreed to go into Surrey, 'cause it vould be 
 no use to begin shooting a'fore you get a good way, cause 
 the birds are nation wild, till you've passed the Circus ; 
 so just as we got over the bridge, I heard somebody say. 
 There goes the Cocknies.— My eyes, Tom, says I, that's 
 a slap at us. Presently I heard some one say again. 
 There goes the Cocknies. So says Tom, says be to ipe, 
 
AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 123 
 
 says he, Shall we lick 'em. So says I to Tom, says I, that 
 depends upon how big they is, says I.' ' There's a covey, 
 a covey.' ' Where ?' ' No, sir, no, he knows nothing of 
 a covey, sir; that's only Mrs. Simpson's infant Academy 
 
 taking an hairing". Presently I heard some one say 
 
 agen. There goes the Cocknies. Yen I looked up, sir, and 
 vhat do you think it vas, it vas no more than old Axletree, 
 the coachmaker's poll parrot, a corner of Vebber Row ; so 
 says I, blow me, but I'll ht.ve a slap at you, marm, says 
 I, so just as I vas going to' fire, and cocking my gun, and 
 shutting my eyes for fear of the flash — Stop, says Tom, 
 says he to me — What ? says I. — Your ramrod's in your 
 gun, says he : and so it vas ; so I takes it out, and just 
 as I vas agoing to fire agen — Hollo ! says Tom, says he, 
 what are you arter, says he to me, says he. — Be quiet, will 
 you, says I to him, says I, you're always a baulking a 
 one so, says I. —So says Tom to me, says he, don't you 
 see the sarvant girl ? and there she was sure enough, a 
 giving poll some white o' negg for breakfast ; so said I to 
 her, said I, get out of the way, marm, says I, and put 
 yourself in a safe place, says I. So said she to me, said 
 she, I am in a safe place, says she, you fool; says she ; 
 a safe place, says she, is vhere you fires at, say she.— 
 Did you ever hear such himperance ? sir ; but being a gen- 
 tleman, I determined to act as sick, and not on no account 
 not to say nothing to a lady.' — ' Stop, sir, said I, what 
 are you about? you will shoot us all : are you aware that 
 your gun is upon the full cock V ' What then, sir !' ' Now 
 do turn it the other way, pray, towards the river ; aye, 
 that's better, if it should go off.* * No it is'nt, (says Mr. 
 Twaddle) it's a great deal worse.' ' Why so, sir !' — 
 * Frighten the fish.' ' Pray, sir, did'nt you say my gun vas 
 upon the full cock, ftnd it vas wrong.' ' Certainly.' * Yy 
 then, sir, I'll maintain it's right; look here, sir, mustn t 
 this here bit of flint hit this here iron thing over this brass 
 pan afore it goes off.' ' Certainly.' * Yy then, sir, look 
 here, (showing the gun) if it is as close as that ere, it might 
 go off of itself, vhenyou least expect it ; vereby if you pull 
 it as far back as that, sir, it is twice as far as it vas 
 afore, sir ; and can't possibly go off at all.' ' That's ad- 
 mirable logic, said I, although I am not convinced ; but 
 you have not explained to me, why that dog is tied to your 
 
 1.2 
 
124 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 leg.' * Vhy sir, I'll tell you ; all day yesterday she 
 vould'nt do nothing, but run first and frighten the birds, 
 and vhen she found any, f-he vasmore frightened than the 
 birds of the two ; for the moment she saw 'em, she stopped 
 dead still, and stood with one leg up so, sir, and her tail 
 sticking out so stiff, just like the lion upon the top of North- 
 umberland House ; so you see, sir, she vasn't no use at 
 all ; so I tied her to my leg, that ve might have better 
 sport than we had the first of last September.' 
 
 SOXG. 
 
 Come listen, neighbours all, fori wish you to remember 
 What happen'd to three Cocknies, on the first of last 
 September ; ^ 
 
 If qualified to shoot, you may then go tell your grandam, 
 1 had it piping- hot from a Cockney's memorandum. 
 
 Bow, wow, wow, &c. 
 
 Friday, first Septem', at Blackfriars met like shrew^'d cocks. 
 From the Mills to Webber-row beat about for snipes and 
 
 Woodcocks ; 
 Took aim at seven sparrows, that was flying oflf to shirk 
 
 us, 
 And hit a sandman' donkey that was trotting by the Circus. 
 
 Bow, wow, wow, ice. 
 
 In a ditch at Brixton Causeway, heard a queerish kind 
 of chuckle. 
 
 Beat a bramble-bush for snipes, hit a gipsey on the 
 knuckle; 
 
 Took aim at somethinsr on the winar who wish'd it had 
 been safer. 
 
 We thought it a cock-pheasant, but we found it a cock- 
 chafer. 
 
 Bow, wow, wow, &c. 
 
 At Stockwell met some boar-pigs, tried a bait to trap 'em. 
 Pigs squeak'd and run away, met with better sport at 
 Clapham ; 
 
AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 125 
 
 For opposite the seminary Wiggins keeps his daughter at. 
 Shot what we thought a hare, but it prov'd to be a water- 
 rat. 
 
 Bow, wow, wow, &c. 
 
 Lock rusty — rubb'd it clean with a little bit of flannel ; 
 Miss'd a drove of Norfolk turkies, but contriv'd to hit a 
 
 spaniel ; 
 At Wandsworth broke a ramrod, got it mended by a 
 
 farrier. 
 And lodged a random-shot in the left leg of the terrier. 
 
 Bow, wow, wow, &c. 
 
 Took a snack at Balaam Hill, then took again to shooting. 
 Let fly at all we met, till we came to Lower Tooting ; 
 All three took aim to kill a cat, that on a shed was lying. 
 But hit a paper-kite that a little boy was flying. 
 
 Bow, wow, wow, &c. 
 
 Tried to shut left eye, but could'n do't for winking, 
 Let fly at a chafiinch, that on a cart was thinking ; 
 The shot it rattled round the leathern apron of the carter. 
 Who frighten'd us with roaring. Hollo ! what the devil 
 are you arter ? 
 
 Bow, wow, wow, &c. 
 
 Met a lad with bag of game — bid five shillings for 'em — 
 
 got em — 
 Brought 'em safe to London Bridge, and meant to swear 
 
 we'd shot 'em ; 
 But when the bag was open'd, what dy'e think there was 
 
 within it 1 
 A horse's hoof, a crow,"a pole-cat, and a linnet. 
 
 Bow, wow, wow, &c. 
 
 At night went to sup with the club at Billy Beazants, 
 And told 'em lots of lies 'bout bagging lots of pheasants ; 
 So it is no fault of mine, if they do not well remember 
 What happened to three Cocknies on the first of last 
 September. 
 
 Bow, wow, wow, &c, 
 L 3 
 
126 THEATRICAL BLDGET. 
 
 Being at 3Iargate, reminds lue of the letter If. Many 
 of my city friends make sad mistakes in localising this 
 letter, and are so used to making up averages, tliat they 
 think if they leave it out of the beginning of one word, 
 if they do but prefix it to another, it is all the same upon 
 the average. Mr. and Mrs. Capsicum were at Margate 
 during my stay there — IMr. Caj.sicum knew where to place 
 the H, and Mis. Capsicum where to displace it, as the 
 following dialogue will evince. ' Upon my life, IMr. Cap- 
 sicum, you are enough to tire the patience of Job — you 
 are leading me such a life, always dinging in my ears that 
 I cannot exasperate the h — its an orrid huntrnism.' ' No, 
 my dear, you cannot eMisperots the /;, as you call it — 
 aspirate I suppose you mean.' ' Ah ! I suppose by and 
 by you'll tell me I can exasperate nothing.' ' No, my dear, 
 there's one thing you can exasperate.' ' What's that V 
 ' Your husband, particularly when you kill your own child 
 by your horrid mispronunciation.' * How can you hessert 
 such an orrid huntruism V ' Why you kuo'.v the child was 
 ill with a violent cold, and had almost been starved into 
 a recovery, and debarred from animal food, when he 
 longed for a bit of hare that v-as roasting at the kitchen fire, 
 when the doctor said you may give the child as much hare 
 as he will eat, but on no account send it out into the open 
 air, you reversed it all, and called out to the maid, you 
 may give the child as much air as he likes, but not a bit 
 of hare — so the poor child lost its dinner, and was exposed 
 to a Margate north east — .' ' What an orrid huntrnism !' 
 • Another time, when the child was just recovering, the 
 doctor said it might go as far as the arbour in the garden, 
 and you know you sent 'em out to the harbour, and they 
 had almost got to the pier-head before 1 could overtake 
 'em. And didn't I overhear you learning the child his 
 letters, you miscalled 'em all, and said hell, hem, hen, 
 and the child looked up in your face and said. La, 
 ma, its not hen — and didn't you mend it by saying, I 
 don't mean an en that la3's an heg, but the letter hen.' 
 ' Will you give nie an earring'!' ' Why, you have a 
 ])air of gold ones in your ears.' ' I don't mean that — I 
 want a change of hair.' * Well, then, go to the wig- 
 makers.' ' No, I want exercise — I want an agg — I want 
 to take exercise upon a donkey.' ' Doey, ma'am,' All 
 
AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 127 
 
 this was said in the hearing of Barnaby Twack, the cele- 
 brated Margate donkey driver, who trumpetted forth his 
 four-footed commodities as follows : ' Do you want a don- 
 key, ma'am ? there ar'n't better donkies in the whole Isle of 
 Thanet, ma'am, than mine be. There's a nice 'un, 
 ma'am — no, not he, t'other ma'am — he's too frisky for 
 you, ma'am, seeing you be rather largset pattern, ma'am 
 — there, that'll do for you, ma'am — no, not he, he in the 
 brown bridle, ma'am — he's a tarnation good un, he is 
 ma'am.' • Why, he's kicking at me, the brute !' ' JVo, 
 bless you, ma'am, not he ; he's as gentle as a lamb — ha'n't 
 a kick in him, playful lamb — he wouldn't hurt a fly if he 
 know'd it. To be sure he did cast a young lady into the 
 horsepond yesterday, but it \/as all in play, poor beast.' 
 Just at this moment the long-eared quadruped kicked out 
 most viciously, hit poor Barnaby on the ribs, and almost 
 took away his breath ; but he was so intent upon praising 
 his commodities, that he cried out in the midst of his pain, 
 at the same time rubbing his side, ' O playful lamb ! 
 playful lamb ! wouldn't hurt a fly if he know'd it — ha'n't a 
 kick in him.' Mrs. C. being mounted, and Barnaby 
 flogging in the rear, her spouse walking after, as in duty 
 bound, JMrs C. appeared so delighted with every thing she 
 saw, that she praised every thing as she passed. There's 
 a happlel there's a oily edge.' The oily edge, as she called 
 it, ran for about half a mile in length on the land side of 
 the road; the cliff presented a precipice on the sea side. 
 Mrs. C. being rather timbersome, as she called it, was 
 very anxious that Barnaby should drive as near as possible 
 to the hedge ; and as far as possible from the edge of the 
 clifi^"; but, alas/ what she called hedge, everybody else 
 called edge, and vice versa — so when she called out to Bar- 
 naby, ' Go close to the edge, you fool ! go closer to the 
 edge, you wretch! go near the ecZ^e / stupid ass, you are 
 too near the hedge, I say. Oh, how you are a frightening 
 me ! But Barnaby, thinking she meant to improve her sea 
 view, drove so close to the edge of the cliff, that the legs 
 of the donkey absolutely slipped over ; and had not Mr. 
 Capsicum rushed forward and caught hold of his scream- 
 ing spouse, she would have been qualified to sing the 
 Horse and his Rider thrown into the sea at the next 
 Oratorios. ' I'll take my affidavy yon said close to the edge 
 
1*28 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 — if ladies don't know their own mind, they should not rids 
 donkeys.' 
 
 We now bent our course towards the library kept by Mr, 
 Chickcherryclap, where, for fun, frolic, and every thing 
 that is amusing, I imagine there is not a place in England 
 to equal it. But in order to convince as well as recom- 
 mend, I will endeavour to bring to your view the various 
 scenes that occasionally take place at that elegant place of 
 public resort. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 In Margate there's ne'er a toy-shop nor library 
 
 Can equal Chickcherryclap 's — there is my card — 
 I sell long bows and short bows, octavos and quartos. 
 
 Black pins by the hundred, and lace by the yard : 
 The salt water dippers, in mouse-coloured slippers. 
 
 All call as they back from the ses-side do roam, 
 If thinner or fatter, with me take a chatter. 
 
 Before they go back to hot water and home. 
 
 (Spoken) — 'Any new arrivals T * Lots, me'm, here's the 
 book ; IMr. and Mrs. Wiggins — ' 'That's quite enough, shut 
 the book ; I wonder where they pick up such names ; 
 nothing but Wiggins and Spriggins, and Higgins, and 
 Dickens : we scarcely ever see a name of three syllables 
 in the book now.' ' Look at Sir Noodle Numps, with only 
 one stocking on.' ' Which is he ''' * That's him ma'am ; here 
 he comes.' ' Oh ; Mr. Chickcherryclap, such a thing has 
 happened, can I retire into one of your back rooms ? I am 
 in a most desperate situation indeed. Do you know I was 
 standing on the shore intending to bathe, and as I was 
 talking to myself, and saying. Yes I will, and no I won't, 
 an infernal wave caiue up to my middle, washed my stock- 
 ings to the next machine, and carried my small-clothes to 
 the coast of France. I don't know how I shall get home.* 
 ' Why you have only lost one stocking: if your leg bears 
 it, why shouldn't you?' 'There's Sir Bottle Nose Blotch.' 
 • Where from V ' Portsoken Ward, ma'am.' * Peregrine 
 Pimple, Esq. major of volunteers'. ' Where from V ' Wine 
 Office Court.' • The Vica# of Venison.* ' Where from ?' 
 
AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 129 
 
 Pudding Lane' ' Aurelia Crowsfoot, from Church Passage, 
 Saint Bride's.' 'Ah ! she has been in Church Passage these 
 thirty years to my knowledge, and never got up to Saint 
 Bride's yet.' ' Pray, Mr. Chickcherryclap, do they let out 
 asses in Margate?' ' Yes, Sir Noodle.' • Where V ' Where 
 you lodge.' 
 
 Then sir will you pop in, and ma'am will you hop in, 
 And little miss stop in, and fol de rol lol ! 
 
 Who wants some new satin, a shoe, or a patten, 
 Will find them all ready in Chickcherry's shop. 
 
 At four all's in motion, on land or the ocean. 
 
 Jackboots a,nd jackasses now crowd on the pier j 
 Ice water in glasses, some ride on jackasses, 
 
 And the ladies to tan their complexions do fear ; 
 The donkies and cattle are all on the rattle, 
 
 For a drive now at four, or a walk on the pier. 
 All talking together, they cry what hot weather. 
 
 And take up a book in my green colonade. 
 
 (Spoken) — 'Any new novels, Mr. Chickclierryclap V — • 
 * Yes, ma'am, here are some — The strangled Jew, or Jeru- 
 salem Artichokes.'' — ' Love at Boffins Bay, or Musidora in an 
 Iceberg.'' — * Fee, Faw, Fum, or the Gormadizing Giant,'' — 
 ' Delicate Dktress, or the Frantic Fishiooman.' ' Here is one, 
 ma'am, said to be written by a young lady of fashion, 
 called * Go it my Hearty, or Dammee who's afraid ?' — ' Mid- 
 night horrors, or the Nun of St. Catamaran.' — Here, Mary, 
 pop the Gormandizing Giant into your muff, and take the 
 Midnight horrors under your arm, and run home !' 
 
 Then sir will you pop in, and ma'am will you hop in. 
 And little mi?s stop in, and fol de rol lol ! 
 
 \Vho wants some new satin, a shoe, or a patten, 
 Will find them all ready in Chickcherry's shop. 
 
 At night when a blazement illumines the casement, 
 For toys and tetotums they all come to me ; 
 
 And those who have money buy every thing funny, 
 And folks who are ordered to bathe in the sea, 
 
130 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 In numbers that baffle all here to the raffle, 
 Till hard-hearted bankers remittances stop ; 
 
 Then all the gay railers sneak home by the steamers. 
 And talk all the winter of Chickcherry's shop. 
 
 (Spoken) — 'Now ladies, now ladies, to the auction in 
 the back shop — the raffle here — the loo, ladies — now ladies 
 patronize poor Chickcherryclap— one, two, three gone — 
 four, five, six wanted.' ' I'll take six." What name, ma'am V 
 'Jeflfery Muffincap.' (Rattles the dice and throus) 'Four, 
 gone I and nobody by. Pray ladies don't desert poor 
 Chickcherryclap. Six, eight, ten, king, Pam. (dealing 
 cards.) — * There's Master Crotchet singing up in the corner ; 
 charming he sings.' ' Yes.' * Mrs. Allspice, this is a plea- 
 sure ; how are they all in Mark Lane r' * Hush ! here upon 
 the grand — ' ' What's that, Mark Lane did you say V * No, 
 Captain, Park Lane ; our house exactly faces Grosvenor 
 Gate. There's an off-hand bounce for you.' ' One, two, 
 three wanting ; pray ladies patronize poor Chickcherr^'- 
 clap,* * Give me one.' ' What name, ma'am 1' 'Shuffleton.* 
 ' Do pray Captain throw for me.' — (Throws) * Trays.' ' The 
 deuce take the trays.' ' No, ma'am, the tray always takes 
 the duce. — (Sings) Love has eyes, love has eyes, yes believe 
 — nine, ten, Pam ; ten shillings for Pam. — There, (throivs) 
 trays again ; I can't get above all fours.' ' No, Captain, you 
 are a regular Nebuchadnezzar.' * Now for Chickcherryclap 
 — four, five, six. — {Boy sirtging) ' Love has eyes, love has 
 eyes.' — Four, five, six, Pam; now ladies.' ' What a noise 
 they make in that room ; no hearing.' — Love has eyes, love 
 has — ' ' One, two, that's for you — diamonds — ten, Pam, 
 there am I and nobody by. — {Boy sings) — ' Charming he 
 sings.' * Yes.' * Allow me to ofter {sells by auction) an elegant 
 pair of steel stays — at two pounds — at, guineas — at two 
 pounds ten — your's sir. Mary, try them on the gentleman. 
 Ladies, allow me to offer to your notice this elegant little 
 Marmoset Monkey — going for two pounds ten — eleven — 
 twelve, and a haaf'in two places — three pounds — four, five, 
 six — seven, and a haaf claimed in two places — not yet 
 your's ma'am — at seven and a haaf — he is a perfect speci- 
 men of his species, ladies — take him round, porters.* 'Is he 
 a gentleman V ' Yes ma'am ; if you mean his manners, they 
 
AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. ISl 
 
 xre polished ; quite an elegant little man of fashion, a per* 
 feet gentleman, ma'an;.* 'I mean is he of the male species 1 
 Has he any vice, Mr. Chickcherryclap V 'Not that I know 
 of, ma'am ; if he has never mind — 
 
 " For if to his share some little errors fall, 
 Look in his face, and you forget them all." 
 
 (Bot/ sings) — * Allow me to offer this pair of leather inex- 
 pressibles — going for, two pounds ten, eleven, twelve — 
 yours, me'm/ • Do you know I've got a book of birds and 
 beastes, and last night I laid a wager with a gentleman at 
 the Boarding House, that there was no English bird whose 
 name begins with an A, and I've won it.' ' No, no, you 
 have not sir.' * But I'll lay you what you like I have, 
 though.* * I beg your pardon.' * Sir, you have lost, there 
 is one.* * What is that, sir 1' 'A tomtit.' 
 
 Then sir will you pop in, and ma'am will you hop in. 
 
 And little miss stop in, and fol de rol lol I 
 Who wants some new satin, a shoe, or a patten. 
 
 Will find them all ready in Chichcherry's shop. 
 
 Many persons go to Margate for seclusion — and they ge- 
 nerally choose the season when all their friends leave town 
 for the same purpose. To meet an acquaintance therefore 
 at Margate is certainly no miracle. Why then was I sur- 
 prised at meeting Paul Pinnacle, Esquire ? yet surprised I 
 certainly was. Paul's great object in life, has been to 
 get into what he calls good society ; society has been the 
 game he has pursued, but like all other games, in his 
 estimation, it is never good unless it is high. I paused, 
 doubting whether he would recognise me, for as Paul in- 
 creases his stock of Lords he cuts his commons ; however, 
 as I had descended from the clouds, I was an object of 
 attention as well as himself, and he was also in an extra 
 good humour. * Ah, Charles, my prime fellow, how do? 
 happy to see you — glad to have met with you — did you 
 come in the balloon 1 — strange fellow !' * Very glad to see 
 you, Mr. Pinnacle.' ' Mr. Pinnacle, eh ! rather grand, why 
 not Pinnacle or PauH I like Paul best, it is short and 
 neatest.' * You will excuse me, Mr. Paul Pinnacle, but 
 the last time I met^ou, you were very ceremonious.* 
 
132 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 * Was I, eh ? Oh ! ah, I remember — but, my dear fellow, 
 the place — recollect the place: — yes, the last time I met 
 you it was at the corner of Abingdon Place, Piccadilly.' 
 ' Well, what has that to do with it 1' ' Every thing, my 
 dear fellow ; 1 was walking with a very great man^I was 
 ■walking with Sir Harry Gossamer — he is a man of the 
 first fashion, and moves in the very first circles ; and he is 
 very particular who he walks with.' ' How came he to 
 ■walk with you, then V ' With me ! that's very neat, 
 devilish neat ; but the fact is, he had lost a trifle to me 
 the night before at cards ; he was devilish sharp set, and 
 couldn't pay, therefore I made the agreement with him to 
 take a turn with me from Devonshire House to Hyde Park 
 Corner — I wanted fashion, and he ■wanted money.' ' So 
 he walked off the debt.' * Exactly so.' ' Its a pity it is 
 not more common.' 'Its hot uncommon.' ' I'm glad of it,' 
 said I ; ' then some of my Bond-street friends may as easily 
 outwalk a debt, as they are used to outrun the con- 
 stable ; but what has that to do with your cutting me in 
 Piccadilly?' 'Why, I'll tell you ; -while I was ■\\alking 
 ■with Sir Harry Gossamer, I made a sort of vow ■with my- 
 self not to speak so any blackguards, or any one under a 
 baronet ; just as I had made my vow, you came across 
 from the Green Park — not that I mean to say you are a 
 blackguard, quite the reverse I assure you, for I don't think 
 you are a blackguard ; but, my dear fellow, the fact is, you 
 
 are, a .' ' I am not a baronet.' ' Exactly so: I know 
 
 you'll say you saw me speak to Sir Charles Culverin, at 
 the steps of the Gloster Coffee House, and he is only a 
 knight, but he is a K. C B. and that is something ; I didn't 
 ■wish to mortify him, so I said, How d'ye do? but it was 
 done quite in a whis])er — no one heard it.' * That was 
 very considerate.' ' I think it ■was ; it all depends upon 
 where a man meets a man ; for depend u}>on it, every 
 man in his life cuts somebody. Suppose I meet a good 
 sort of fellow like yourself, without a title, at the corner of 
 some shabby-genteel street in the Strand — Norfolk-street 
 for instance — not that 1 mean to call Norfolk-street shabby, 
 quite the reverse, I assure you — well, then I say, How 
 do? delighted to see you ; how's the little v.oman] how's 
 the little ones ? most happy to see you ; make my com- 
 pliments, good bye. That's at the corner of Norfolk-street : 
 
AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 133 
 
 but suppose 1 meet my friend at some shabby-genteel 
 spotjKing- Charles I. statue at Charing Cross, for instance 
 • — not that 1 mean to call King Charles 1. shabby-genteel, 
 quite the reverse I assure you.' ' There 1 suppose you are 
 civil, but distant.' ' That depends upon circumstances — 
 I am very ceremonious. If I see the Duke's gate just 
 opening, 1 am rather ceremonious until 1 see which way 
 the horses' heads turn — no knowing what may happen — 
 then I look down towards Parliament-street, to see if any 
 of my particular friends, such as Judges, Field Officers, 
 Counsellers, Secretaries of State, or Cabinet IVIiuisters 
 — then I look towards Pall Mall, and if I see no Marquis, 
 Earls, and that concern, and no Peer on the pavement, 
 and nothing about Charing Cross but porters, and bar- 
 risters, and coal-heavers, and hackney-coachmen, and 
 attorneys, and other old women, and all that sort of con- 
 cern, then I say. How dol happy to see you ; most de- 
 lighted to have met you ; good day.' * But in Piccadilly V 
 
 * J'hat depends upon circumstances in Piccadilly one 
 
 scarce knows how to behave — Piccadilly varies. 1 have 
 seen blackguards in Piccadilly ; not that 1 mean to call 
 Piccadilly blackguard, quite the reverse I assure j'ou. 
 On Sundays Piccadilly is decidedly vulgar j not that I 
 mean to call Sunday vulgar, quite the reverse I assure 
 you ; but you know all those horrid people who make 
 holyday in Hyde Park on a Sunday, go through Piccadilly. 
 Imagine the whole stream of population carrying with it 
 all the mud of Blackfriars, Austen Friars, and White 
 Friars, and Grey Friars, and God knows how many more 
 friars.' * Weil, but Piccadilly on a week-day :' * Oh, the^n 
 I am aufait, black neckcloth — grey nag — ^j'ellov/ barouche 
 — sporting outriders — Duke in the corner — jMarquis in tl»e 
 front, all that concern !' ' But if you meet a fellow you 
 don't wish to speak to, how do you manage V ' 1 cut 
 liim.' ' Cut him?' ' JVot exactly so — no — yes, that is, 
 
 I -' ' No, I know you do not exactly carve him 
 
 with a knife.' * No, I have three cafe, on these occasions ; 
 where I meet a fellow with a sort of white coat and along 
 hanging collar, and hi.', hat on one side, and a large stick 
 in his hand, and a white neckcloth — not that I mean to 
 tall every man a blackguard that wears a white neckcloth, 
 quite th? reverse 1 assure yon — 1 have seen very fespect- 
 
 M 
 
1S4 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 able personsj in white neckcloths, but the fashion is black, 
 all black — well, I meet a decided sort of blackguard, a 
 sort of fellow one meets at bull-baits and cock-fights — not 
 that I mean to call bull-baiting and cock-fighting vulgar, 
 quite the reverse I assure you — then if I meet any of the 
 aforesaid persons, and if I am with any of my own set. 
 Lord George Squander, and the Marquis of Putney, and 
 that concern, I say. Lord George, did you ever see so 
 preposterous a chimney as that at No. 45 1 — up go their 
 eyes — by this time blackguard has passed, then I shake the 
 Marquis by the hand, adieu ! adieu ! But 'pon my honour 
 I can't stop, because Lady Mary is waiting for me.' ' But,' 
 said I. * Mr. Pinnacle, you have not told me your system 
 of cutting people.' ' Well, now I'll give you my three 
 cuts, which are invaluable. Cut the first is the celestial : 
 when you meet your dunning tailor, or story-telling uncle, 
 or a respectable man with a shabby-drest wife, and a 
 poodle dog, you are suddenly struck with the beauty of 
 the heavens — what a magnificent structure — Herschell — 
 Georgium Sidus — by that time your tailor is gone by, and 
 you pursue your walk solus. The second is the cut in- 
 fernal ; this consists in casting your eyes suddenly down 
 towards the gloomy abode of the inexorable Pluto : — in 
 this case; you must suppose cuttee to be above, you a 
 cockney in a goneby tilbury, or a respectable man outside 
 the Clapham coach, rating the commissioners soundly for 
 the irregularity of the pebbles : horridly they do pave 
 London now — the same puddle that was here last week, 
 I declare — Madam, will you allow me — by this time cuttee 
 has passed, the Clapham coach gone by, and so being 
 gone, I exclaim with Macbeth, I am a man again. Cut 
 third and last, is the cut direct, and requires little more 
 than downright impudence : in this case you must suppose 
 cuttee to meet you full front : — meet his salute with elevated 
 eyebrows, stare him full in the face, and pass on, as much 
 as to say, who the devil are you ? This is mostly practised 
 by gentlemen who walk Bond-street j to them I dedicate 
 it, to be taken every day between three and five. One cut 
 is a dose,' 
 
 I had not wandered far before I met a very old acquaint- 
 ance — his name was Muggins.—* Ha, Muggins,' says I, 
 ' how do you do, Muggins V • Why, I'm tolerable,' was his 
 
AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 135 
 
 reply — 'How do you do?' 'Very well, I thank you.* 
 * Fine day,* * Very fine.' • Any news V ' No.' * Are 
 you still in the gospel linel' ' Oh, yes, I should die if I 
 left it.* * But you've been so long in it that you're sure 
 to go to heaven.' * Can't say — good morning.' * I hope 
 you may.' ' Amen/ he replied, * good-day.' and as he 
 broke off and left me after this entertaining dialogue, I'll 
 tell you a story about Mr. Muggins : 
 
 From among the many droll and laughable stories extant 
 of private individuals, it is hoped mine will not prove the 
 least amusing. Mr. Muggins was clerk at a parish church 
 in Derbyshire, near which was a well-known pleasant 
 spot, called Mount Sion : here Mr. Muggins had several 
 houses, that he was in the habit of letting out ready fur- 
 nished ; and as it was proverbially a healthy place, was 
 seldom without tenants. However, if it so happened that 
 one of them were unoccupied, he had a most laughable 
 and singular habit of acquainting the congregation of the 
 circumstance, bv invariably giving from his desk, in a 
 curious nasal tone, immediately before the Pslams, as 
 
 follows : * Let us sing to the Praise and Glory of O, 
 
 I had forgot Mount Sion is a pleasant place.' It hap- 
 pened that he once let one of those houses to a Lady Pint- 
 weezel, whose favourite little dog. Shock, was very poorly. 
 My Lady regularly attended church every Sunday, accom- 
 panied by Master Shock, who, although he could neither 
 read, write, nor sing, yet when the congregation began to 
 sing he also began to bow, wow, wow, in with them very 
 prettily ; which was considered such a nuisance, that at 
 last one of the neighbours engag"ed^^to steal Master Shock ; 
 and i'faith, he was as good as his word. The following 
 morning, as Mr. Muggins was comfortably seated by the 
 fire, enjoying his breakfast, comes a rap so (knocks) at the 
 door. * Who's there V says Muggins ; when in came my 
 Lady Pintweezel, with a face as long as my arm. * Good 
 morning to your ladyship,' said he ; * hope you are well.' 
 ' Oh ! oh ! Mr. Muggins.' (crying.) — ' God bless my soul, 
 my Lady, why what is the matter ? is the house on fire, 
 or has it been broken open.' * Oh ! Mr. Muggins.' {still 
 crying) worse than that, I have lost my dear little dog 
 Shock.' — *( Upon my soul, I am very glad of it.) (Asidt.) 
 Sad thing indeed, my lady.' ' Well, Muggins, don't you 
 
 M 2 
 
136 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 think you can find him for me V ' Lauk ! my Lady, I can't 
 i\ml your Shock.' * Ah ! but Muggins, if you will but 
 contrive to give it out at church, as you do your houses. 
 I'll j^ive you a couple of £piineas.* ' Oh ! to be sure 1 
 will, ray Lady (that alters the case). Poor little fellow, 1 
 hope he has got into good hands : but what shall I say, my 
 Lady r' * Oh ! oh ! give me a pen and ink. and I'll wri;e 
 it all down for you. Oh ! dear, oh I let me see, (wiping 
 her eyes). Lost, Lady FinticeezeVs little dog Shock, with a 
 black spot on a white tail, and a black body, and a white back, 
 with long ears, little mouth, and sore eyes. There, there it 
 is, oh, oh!' * Very well, my Lady, I'll certainly give it 
 out.' On the following Sunday morning early. Muggins 
 ■took an opportunity of popping the description into his 
 reading desk before church time ; shortly afterwards, the 
 parson, who was a humourous sort of a blade, passing down 
 J he aisle spied this paper curiously folded : — ' Hey, what 
 have we here,' said he, upon opening it ; ' surely Mr. 
 Clerk can't mean to give this out in church ; however, if 
 he does, I'll have a joke with him ;' so taking out his pen- 
 knife, he scratched out the S for sore eves, and put in 
 an F, which made it read fore (four) eyes, and then 
 carefully replaced it as before. Soon after the service 
 .began, and went regularly on, until the Psalms, which 
 Muggins gave out : 'I^t us sing to the praise and glory of — 
 Oh! ah! I had forgot ;' so recollecting himself, he pro- 
 ceeded — * A hem — Lost, or strayed, stoloi or muilaid. Lady 
 PintweezeV s Utile dog Shock, with a black spot on a white tail, 
 and a black body, and a tohite back, with long cars, little 
 mouth, and fo — fo — four ! fovr ! four — yes it is, four 
 EYES, upon my soul ;' but Muggins, suspecting something, 
 turning round and looking up, said, Mr. Parson, Mr. Par- 
 son.' * Well, Muggins,' said the parson, looking down 
 upon him, 'Well Muggins, what's the matter?' — 'I 
 say, Mr. Parson, this is one of your tricks, nevermind, 
 only recollect, I am one upon your Tibby, for this, that's 
 all.' 
 
 Now the parson wished his parishioners to believe, that 
 he was a very learned and clever man, and that, although 
 he had a book before him, it was, in fact, of little use to 
 him, and that he generally delivered his discourses extem- 
 jjore, which, by the by, the alerkknew was no such thing ; 
 
AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 137 
 
 for Mr. Parson had a secret nitcU cut in his desk, into 
 which he put his book. On the following Sunday, Mug- 
 gins made a point of being at church first, and espying 
 the parson's book in the old place, he made no bones of 
 whipping out one of the leaves : shortly after the parson 
 arrived, the service commenced, and went on as usual ; 
 the parson mounted his pulpit to deliver his sermon, and 
 proceeded in his usual apparently inspired manner, till he 
 came to the place where the leaf was torn out. * And lo 
 
 and behold, Moses [missing the leaf^ and behold Moses 
 
 ■ and, as I before said, and lo ! and behold, Moses 
 
 -and — and behold Moses [scratching his head, and 
 
 turning over the leaves of his book confusedly J\ I say, Mr. 
 Clerk, Mr. Clerk,' said the parson, looking down upon 
 bim ; * Mr. Clerk, what's become of my Moses V ' Why, 
 [said Muggins, looking up archly at him,'] Why, he has got 
 SORE EYES, and can't come to church to-day, sir.' 
 
 I next entered into conversation with my friend Mr. Guf- 
 fin, whose sole theme was concerning his affairs at Stock- 
 well, and the brilliancy of his daughter's mind. ' Fine crea- 
 ture — lovely girl — excellent understanding, in short, sir, 
 her taste is superior to any thing I ever yet met with in 
 woman.' 
 
 Miss Guffin now advanced, and said to her papa, 
 * Let's go to some place of amusement.' ' Well, I'm sure 
 my dear I am as anxious as you are to go to some place of 
 amusement, for being idle is very troublesome ; I wish I 
 had brought down my Day-book, or Ledger, or book of 
 bad debts ; but pray what place of amusement do you pro- 
 pose, my dear ?' ' I want to go to the church-yard.' ' That's 
 the oddest place of amusement — why in the name of the 
 sexton what can you want there V * I want to get some 
 new epitaphs for my book.' ' Well, I don't much like it, 
 I don't — going to a church-yard on a working day, there's 
 something wicked in it — but however, if you want to im- 
 prove your Album I'll accompany you.' I accompanied 
 Miss Guflfin, who, on reaching the church-yard, took out 
 her Album and pencil. * Oh ! here's one all wrapt up in 
 one beautiful innocent little line 1' 
 
 ' Hei-e I lays, killed by a chaise* 
 
 * What simplicity ! how interesting !' 
 n 3 
 
133 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 ' / /ai/s in dust, because I must.' 
 
 ' There, 1 think I never heard any thinjj so innocent and 
 simple : Shakcspear's Elegy in a country church-yard was 
 nothing to it.' ' Here's one that will suit you, ]Miss Guffin,' 
 said I. 
 
 ' On the two wives of Jonathan Sexton, 
 Who, as a wife, has never vexed one, 
 I wish I could say as much for her at the next slonc' 
 
 Epitaph on William Wilkins, a dunning tailor. 
 
 « Here lies W. W. 
 Who never more will trouble you, trouble you.' 
 
 ' Here lies the bo lies of two infants dear. 
 One lies buried ill Margate Harbour, the other here.' 
 
 * Reader, if thou cans't read, 
 Zxwfc dotvn upon this stone ; 
 Do all we can, death is a man 
 As never spareth none.' 
 
 ' The Church van full, and ivould hold no more. 
 So here 1 lies outside the door.' 
 
 ' Here I lies with 7ny two daughters, 
 All along of the Cheltenham waters.' 
 
 ' Here lies the body of John Tomkins, tcho 
 Departed this life, aged ffty-two. 
 After a long and painful illness, that 
 He bore with christian fortitude, tho' fat : 
 
 He died lamented deeply by this Poem, 
 
 And all loho had the happiness to know him.' 
 
 On returning up the high street from our ecclesiastical 
 amusement, a letter was put into the hands of Mr. Guffin, 
 which appeared to put him completely out of temper. 
 * What's the matter, sir V said I. ' Oh ! nothing— only an 
 Attorney' bill, that's all — from my friend Mr. Waddle 
 Whipup. Whip-up indeed! I have had a few bills in my 
 time, and 1 have seen a good many, but this beats all I 
 ever — but I'll read it to you.' 
 
6 
 
 8 
 
 6 
 
 8 
 
 13 
 
 4 
 
 13 
 
 4 
 
 AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 139 
 
 Attending and asking you how you did 6 8 
 Attending- you afterwards when you said, 
 
 Pretty well 6 8 
 
 Attending you on the pier, when you 
 desired me to look through a piece 
 of smoked glass at an eclipse of 
 the sun --------- 
 
 Attending and looking at ditto - - - 
 Returning you the piece of glass - - - 
 Rubbing my left eye, which watered 
 Attending you at luncheon, when you 
 
 praised the sandwiches, and asked > 
 
 me to take some ------68 
 
 Consulting and asking my opinion there- 
 on, when I said. They were very 
 good ---------- 13 4 
 
 * There, what d'ye think of that, eh I He says he will 
 come to breakfast with me to-morrow morning, and re- 
 ceive the money if convenient — but he shan't — he'll charge 
 mc six ami eighipence for eating my breakfast, I suppose. 
 If he does, I'm resolved to strike him off my rolls and 
 butter.' 
 
 Mr. Guffin felt very much offended with his attorney, 
 and resolved never to employ him again ; his wife was tre- 
 mendous in her upbraidings against all lawyers, and parti- 
 cularly the man who could thus overcharge her husband, 
 while I, too anxious to lose sight of my friends, must 
 travel to seek new adventures for their amusement. 
 
 Near the pier-head at Margate, stands the Hoy Tavern ; 
 strolling one morning that way, I saw four men busily 
 employed, beating a carpet in the Connaught fashion, 
 that is, with a man in it. ' What in the name of patience 
 are you doing with that unfortunate man V said I.- — 
 ' Nothing, sir,' said one of them ; ' its only a bit oi" a lark, 
 sir, that's all, you see that window there, sir, open, in 
 that house up there V ' Yes I do.' ' Well, sir, as we 
 wur a shaking this carpet, sir, this man jumped out of that 
 window there, sir, and we caug'ht him in this carpet, sir, 
 and wur giving him a little bit of a shake, sir, and 
 that's all we know of the matter, sir.' * Your honour. 
 
|40 VUEATRICAL BUPGET, 
 
 your honour, you've saved my life, so you have ; you never 
 saw any man so kilt before.' ' For a dead man/ said I, 
 f you appear pretty lively.' ' Och ! by the powers ! and 
 its no fault of theirs, your honour ; Vm as good as dead, 
 ^ny how.' ' I think I've seen you before.' ' Troth and you 
 may say that, Daniel O'Rourke, sir.' The first time I met 
 Daniel was in Dublin ; surprised that our second meeting' 
 should be in a carpet at Margate, I asked him to explain 
 his situation. ' O, your honour, I've been draming and 
 draming, and didn't your honour come in a drame.* * Well, 
 what did you dream, and how did you come into that 
 carpet 1' * Plase your honour, I'll tell your honour all 
 ^hout it, I was bothered all day yesterday ; and 1 dramed 
 such a drame ; och sure, and didn't your honour come 
 through the clouds in a balloon 1 plase your honour, I'm 
 steward of the Polly Packet ; and every Monday in the 
 week the Captain gives the sailors a treat ; and the good 
 mait and the good drink of the Captain's did'nt agree with 
 pie at all at all ; I ate so much, that I would never desire 
 tp lave off ; and when I was home and a bed, I was none 
 the better of it ; and when I went to sleep, the devil a 
 syink of sleep could I get for draming all night. Och ! I 
 wish I may never drame such another !' ' What was your 
 dream, Daniel ?' * Why, then saving your presence, I'll 
 tell you ; I was draming I was coming home from Molly 
 Crinigan, the fairy woman, where I had been to get a 
 pharm for the cure of the braked h'eifer, that was bewitch- 
 ed; and I dramed I was coming across the Key of Balla- 
 naskeugh, and I was looking up at the stars and blessing 
 myself, when what did myself do, but I missed my footing, 
 and fell into the water, that was very well — then I thought 
 I wo,s swimming away for the bare life of me, when I 
 jswimmed on shore on a desolate island, where there wa? 
 ^ater enough to drown Johnny Mac Glee, the Irish giant 
 -rthat was very well, so I sot myself down, and set up a 
 prying ; and as I was setting there by myself, a lusty 
 Ijig black devil of an eagle came up to myself. Good 
 m9rning, Daniel O'Rourke, says he. Good morning, 
 sir, said I. pod save you, Dan, said he. You also, 
 sir, said I. What are you doing there, Dan 1 said he. 
 Nothing at all, sir, said I, I was only wishing I was 
 ^afe back again at Ballanaskeugh. Come, get a horsebaxk 
 
AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 141 
 
 wpvoa me, saul he ; and my lii'e against yours, but I'll 
 bring you safe home to Ballanaskeugh. Och ! by my 
 soul, sir, said I, here's persuading ; I thank you, sir, said 
 I, for the loan of your civility, sir, said I, and I'll accept 
 your offer, sir, said I ; so 1 got a horseback upon him, 
 and away he flew with me, till we came close up to the 
 moon ; so then I thought to set him right, the cause why, 
 I thought for sure he didn't know the right road to Balla- 
 naskeugh : but I'll be civil to him, says 1, for why, bekase 
 he has me in his power: so says 1, plase your honour's 
 glory, sir, said I, I'm thinking you're not in the right road 
 to Ballanaskeugh. Hold your tongue, Daniel, said he, 
 and mind your own business, and don't interfere with the 
 business of other people. ^^ay be not, sir, said I ; so I 
 said no more till we came to the moon itself. Take oft' 
 me, Dan, said he, I'm tired. I will not, sir, said I. 
 Take off me, said ho. Indeed, and I won't, said I ; 
 bad enoughj sir, said 1, what will I do ? Take oft" me, 
 Dan, said he, while I rest me. Och, and is it to fall 
 and be killed, sir, said I. Get upon the moon, while I 
 rest myself, said he. And is that the way you'd be 
 sarving me, sir, said I. Never fear, Daniel, said be, don't 
 you see a reaping hook sticking out of one side of it, said 
 he ? I do sir, said I. Take a gripe of it, said he ; and 
 
 .you'll come to the ground like a flea in a blanket. I diS. 
 
 -SO, when what did himself do but turns about, and good 
 by to you, Dan, sayshe. Is that all, you ugly old brute 
 you, sir, says I: devil speed the traveller, says 1 : you are 
 an unnatural baste, so you are : is that the way you'd be 
 sarving me, sir, said I ; well, that was very well ; when 
 out came the man of the moon himself.' — Daniel O'Rourke, 
 said he. The same, sir, said I. What are you doing 
 with my reaping-hook, Dan, said he"? No harm, sir, 
 said I ; only holding on, for fear I'd be falling off, sir, 
 said I. Let go your gripe, Dan, said he. Indeed, 
 and with your honour's lave, and I will not, sir, said I. 
 Let go your gripe, Dan, said he, or else you'd belter 
 you had. Indeed, and I will not, sir, said I, and the 
 more you bid me lave go, sir, said I, the more I won't, 
 so I will. We'll see that, said he ; and with that he 
 goes in and fetches out a large hammer, and knocks oft' 
 the handle of the reaping hook, and down myself falls, 
 falls, falls, like a bird that would be flying j when it pleased 
 
|42 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 God to send a flock of wild geese by, from my own bog of 
 Ballanaskeugh, or eJse how should they know me? li^ 
 this Daniel O'Rourke ? says one of them : It is so, sir, 
 said I- I think you are falling, Dan, said he. You 
 may Say that, with your own puddy mouth, sir, said I. 
 Take a grip of me, Dan, said he, and I'll bring you to 
 the ground in a way you won*t fall and be killed. Sweet's 
 your heart in a pot of honey, my jewel, says I. Imme- 
 diately I saw a ship belovir under me. Halloo ! stop the 
 ship, stop the ship, said I. Why should we stop the 
 ship, Daniel ? said they, by the raison we don't know 
 vhether you're over it or not. Arrab ! how shall we 
 know that '! says I. Drop your hat, Dan, said he, and if you 
 drop it in the ship, you'll know you're OTer the ship, said 
 he. I did so: when what does I do, but looks down, 
 and I thought they held out a big blanket to catch me, 
 when what does I do, but jumps off the goose's back, as 
 I thought, but it was not off the eaigle's back, or goose's 
 back, or horse's back, but out of my own bed-room win- 
 dow 1 jumpt, your honour save, and so it was.' 
 
 Taking a walk one day on the fort, I met an old ac' 
 quaintance who was very fond of theatricals, and naturally, 
 we no sooner got together, than we brought all our ammu- 
 nition into play. — I endeavoured to defend the new school 
 as much as possible, but my worthy friend exploded itj 
 and completely turned his back upon Kemble, Young, 
 Kean, and all the puppets, in England (as he termed 
 them). I endeavoured to show him the difference between 
 the actors of the old and the new school, by introducing a 
 few imitations, and the old gentleman smiled, and seemed 
 gratified if one tone in my voice resembled any thing that 
 Macklin ever did. 
 
 I gave him imitations of Kemble, of Kean, of Munden, 
 of Incledon, and various others, but he was impenetrable, 
 and still declared that all ray endeavours would not con- 
 vince him that the new school was at all equal to 
 the old. 
 
 Of all the tragedians that ever tragedized, says my 
 friend, he was the most out)-^ in his own performance, 
 whose satire made bjm the dread of every other theatrical 
 
AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 14^ 
 
 performer ; I mean our late English Aristophanes, Mr. 
 Foot. He was a great favourite with the town, and as a 
 comic writer and a mimic, a most deserved one. But 
 acting is to be considered on principles much more ex- 
 tensive. 
 
 His performance of Othello was such a masterpiece of 
 burlesque, that it has never yet been forgotten by those 
 who saw it. But however extravagantly outre this might 
 have been, it could never equal the burlesque he displayed 
 in Hamlet, which he performed for his own benefit at 
 Bath. 
 
 When he came to the quarrel in the last act with Laerlef> 
 where the following lines occur : 
 
 What is the reason that you use me thus t 
 I loved thee ever — but *tis no matter. 
 Let Hercules himself do what he may. 
 The cat will mew, the dog will have his day. 
 
 Instead of this, he said in his usual way. What is th«» 
 reason that you use me thus, 1 loved thee ever ; but 'tis no 
 matter. Let Hercules himself do what he may, the dog 
 will mew! No, no, that's wrong; the cat will bark! 
 Oh no, that's the dog ; the dog will mew, no that's the 
 cat. The cat will ; no, that's the dog ; again the cat, 
 the dog ; pshaw, pish, pox, 'tis something about bark- 
 ing, mewing, and caterwauling ; but as I hope to bo 
 saved. Ladies and Gentlemen, I know no more about th» 
 matter. 
 
 Although performers, neglecting the study of their pro- 
 fession, deserve reprehension ; yet I must exempt such 
 from censure as have been negfectful from their endea- 
 vours proving unsuccessful. In this situation was the late 
 facetious George Alexander Stevens, at Lynn, in Norfolk. 
 Having played there several nights to empty benches, he 
 neglected to study the part of Lorenzo in the Merchant of 
 Venice, which he was to perform before the company left 
 the town. He however bustled through it tolerably well, 
 until he came to the last act, where he should have said 
 to Jessica, 
 
 ' In such a night as this, Leander swam the Hellespohi, 
 an4 braved the winds and waves for Hero's sake^ &c. &e; 
 Instead of which he began thus : 
 
144 THHATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 Oh! Jessica, in such a night as this, the man swam 
 over the water, and lie dived and he ducked, and he 
 ducked and he dived — till he got to the other side, and 
 there you know he met with bis — his sweetheart — and 
 there Jessica, you know, they met each other. 
 
 This was intolerable. The audience perceiving the 
 cause, expressed their disapprobation by a general hiss 
 from every part of the Theatre. 
 
 Stevens, greatly irritated by this, resolved to quit the 
 town, as he termed it, in a blaze. He therefore took 
 .fessica by the hand, andleading her forward addressed the 
 audience thus ; 
 
 Oh ! Jessica, in such a night as this we came to town, 
 And since that night we've touched but haif-a-crown ; 
 Lei you and I then bid these folks good night. 
 For if we longer stay they'll starve us quite — Bamn me. 
 
 A gentleman troubled equally with a short memory 
 came forward one night, to give out the play for the ne.Tt 
 evening , it being by particular desire, for the benelit of 
 the box-keeper, aud the last night of performing in 
 Camberwell, that season; which he did as follows. 
 
 Ladies and gentlemen, above and below : — To morrow 
 evening — no, that's a lie, to-morrow's Sunday— Ladies 
 and Gentlemen : On Monday evening will be performed, 
 the celebrated comedy of — of — the Tragedy of — of — no — 
 no — the Oj^era of — of — Opera of — of — the I'iay of — of — 
 the play-bills, to-morrow, will let you kntjw all about it. 
 To which will be added, the farce of the l^antomime — of 
 the entertainment of — what's to be done after the Piay — 
 being by particular desire of the box-keeper — and for the 
 bi?.nefit of the last season. 
 
 These instances of short memory in the servants of the 
 public, remind me of a remarkable gentleman, whom I 
 shall introduce to your notice, and whose ingenuity and 
 retentive memory v.iil be apparent in this introductory 
 speech. This gentleman, who was a traveller, some short 
 time back, arrived at a certain inn ; and alter alighting 
 from hi- horse went into the t:avellers' rcom, where he 
 walked Lackwards and forwards for some minute?,. dis- 
 playing the utmost self-impoitance. Ar length he rang 
 
r 
 
 fiARTH, AIR, AND WATER. 14& 
 
 the bell, and upon tne waiter's appearance gave him. an 
 order nearly as follows: — ^'Waiter?' (the waiter replied 
 Sir) — ' I am a man of few words, and don't like to be 
 coQtinuaHy riaging the bell, and disturbing the hoase, — 
 I'll thank yoli to pay attention to what I say.' (The waiter 
 again replied, * Yes, sir.*) * In the first place bring me a 
 glass of brandy and water, cold, with a little sugar, and 
 also a tea-spoon ; wipe down this table, throw some coals 
 on the fire, and sweep up the hearth ; bring me a couple 
 of candies, pen, ink, and paper, some sealing-wax, some 
 wafers, and let me know what time the post goes out. 
 Tell the ostier to take care cf my hors«, di^ss him well, 
 stop his feet, and let me know when he is ready to feed. 
 Order the chamber-maid to prepare me a good bed, tak^ 
 care the sheets are well aired, a clean night-cap, aad a 
 glass of water m the room — send the boots, with a pair of 
 slippers that I can walk to the stable ia — tell him I miist 
 have my boots cleaned and brought into the room to-night, 
 and that I want to be called at five o'clock in the morning 
 —ask your mistress what I can have for supper ; tell her 
 I should like a roast duck, or something of tfaktsort ; desire 
 your master to step in, as I want to ask him a few ques- 
 tions about the drapers of this town.' The waiter answer- 
 ed, ' Yes, sir,' and then went to the landlord, and told 
 him a gentleman in the parlour wanted a great many thitigs, 
 and amongst the rest he wanted him, and that was all he 
 could recollect. 
 
 Besides, says my friend, your actors of the present 
 day are so methodical, and to speak the truthj the whole 
 truth, and nothing but the truth, we have nothing but 
 would-be actors, every where we go — for bakers, barbers, 
 tailors, and butchers, are all trying to get upon the 
 stage: and.ril convince you of that by the following 
 story : — 
 
 Some few years ago, there was a character well-known 
 in Bath by the name of the musical butcher ; this man, 
 whose name was Jenkins, was in the habit of frequenting 
 clubs, public-houses, and other places of a similar des- 
 cription ; and having a tolerable pretty voice, his company 
 was much sought after. It happened, one evening, that 
 he fell into company with some performers belonging to 
 the theatre one of whom, after be«nog tim, requested he 
 
140 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 would sing for his benefit, which he promised to do : and 
 a ccordingTy sung for his benefit, and received a great deal 
 of applause ; which so elated him, that going home to his 
 wife, he begins with, ' Vel vife ! I shan't have any more of 
 this butchering stuft*; uo, no, I'm a gentleman now/— 
 'Laud John!' says his wife (who thought he bad been 
 drinking) ' Laud John ! why what do you mean V ' Why, 
 I'll tell you vat, vife ; 1 does'nt intend to have any thing 
 more to do with this here nasty, mean, greasy, fat, butcher- 
 ing business ; I mean to turn another trade. And what 
 do you think I intends to turn tor' ' Why, John, I can't 
 think for the soul of me !' * Veil then, I means to turn 
 music-master.* * Aye, John, that's a very genteel, pretty, 
 musical, light kind of business.' Accordingly he called in 
 an auctioneer, and sold every thing that looked in the least 
 butchering, greasy or fat : he immediately took another 
 shop, and furnished it with all new publications and in- 
 struments, such as Pianofortes, Violins, Hautboys, &c. 
 On the first day of opening his shop, he dressed himself in 
 a genteel suit of black, but so far forgot himself, that he 
 also put on a blue apron and steel, and going outside his 
 shop, he paraded backwards and forwards, crying, * What 
 d'ye buy ? what d'ye buy 1 what d'ye buy V Some people 
 thought he was out ot his mind, some thought it was a 
 joke, but all agreed that he was most certainly out of his 
 element : in the mean time one of his old customers came 
 up, an elderly old gentleman ; who, seeing him in the 
 musical way, began with, ' Ah, what Jenkins ! why you 
 are a droll fellow, Jenkins, ha, ha, ha !' ' Good morning 
 to you, sir ! glad to see you ; you used to deal largely 
 with me for meat, and used generally to give me hansel — 
 I han't took no money this morning yet.' ' Well, well, 
 and I don't care if I do now, Jenkins, but this is very droU, 
 Jenkins ; very funny this musical freak of yours, ha, ha ! 
 I see you have a variety of instruments, aye ?' ' Yes, sir, 
 I have got everything you can desire.' * Well, (looking 
 round the shop) what do you ask for that old fiddle V 
 
 * What, that old one ? why that must be four-pence half- 
 penny a pound.' ' Why, Jenkins, you have not forgot 
 your old tricks yet* ha, ha, ha !' ' Beg pardon, sir, rather 
 forgot myself, but you shall have that for one pound/ 
 
 • Why you know, Jenkins, you used to tak§ off five shil- 
 
f 
 
 EARTH, AIR, AND WATER. 147 
 
 lings in the pound for ready money. Why Jenkins, what 
 a cursed ugly neck this fiddle has got ; can't you do any 
 thing to it T' ' Yes, sir, I'll doctor it — here Tom, (he calls 
 out to a boy that had served five years to the butchering 
 trade, and now v/as to serve two years more to the musical 
 business) here Tom, take this fiddle, chop off the chump 
 end, and pop it into the tray, and run home with it.* 
 Accordingly the boy got a cleaver, and putting the fiddle 
 down on the top of a grand pianoforte,, he not only chop- 
 ped off the chump end, but he chopped the new piano 
 clean through. ' Why, dam'me, Tom, you have spoiled 
 that there box of music !' ' Beg your pardon, master, but 
 I have not got into my new trade,' says Tom. 
 
 The next customer that came in, enquired — * Pray, sir, 
 have you the Opera of Tamerlane and Bajazet]' 'Yes, 
 sir, I have got it.* * Aye ! but I don't want the whole of 
 it, r only want the catastrophe.' ' The what, sir V ' Why 
 the catastrophe, the close, the wind-up, the climax, the 
 finish.* I say. Missus, clap that are down in the day- 
 book ; they are devilish good words to go to market 
 with.' He however soon let his customer have what he 
 wanted. It soon after happened that poor Mr. Jenkins 
 was taken violently ill of a fever, when his wife went to 
 market, and going to the very identical shop they had 
 quitted, began, * Well butcher, what do you ask for that 
 bit of mutton and cut oflF the catastrophe V ' Cut off what, 
 ma'am V ' I say, what do you ask for that bit of mutton, 
 and cut off the catastrophe ?' * I say, Missus,' says the 
 man, turning round to his Mistress, * do you understand 
 French or Jarman V ' No, Bill, you must settle with the 
 good woman as well as you can.' ' Laud! well I declare, 
 these here butchers are the most vulgar, illittered people 
 on the face of the universal yearth ! What! do*nt you know 
 that the catastrophe is the finish, the wind-up, the climax, 
 the close, the tail ?' * Oh ! the tail, you mean the tail, 
 ma'am, do you V — so he cut off the tail, and by so doing 
 he. also cut off our tale — short. 
 
 Now, says he, deny, if you can, that the profession 
 is gradually declining — deny, if you can, that every ap- 
 prentice boy is daily and hiyjrly endeavouring to fill the 
 place of Kemble, or laughing it the beauties of Kean. — 
 
 N 2 
 
148 THEATRICAL fiUDGET. 
 
 But I have another story which I will tell you before we 
 part,— which ran thus in effect. 
 
 It is customary in general with maaagers, to teach their 
 young performers to throw it out — to keep it up — go 
 through with it — and to make use of their arms and legs, 
 and not stand like a tragedy tea-pot, with one hand stuck 
 by his side like the handle, and the other thrown out ia 
 this manner, (imitating) like the spout, so that the actor is 
 always in motion, as if he had got the St. Vitus's dance, 
 and could not stand still for the soul of him. 
 
 Mr. Mossop, the once celebrated tragedian, was distin- 
 guished amongst the wags of the Green Room, by the 
 appellation of the one-handed actor. Mr. Churchill, in 
 his fanious satirical poem of the * Rosciad,' said his right 
 hand was always labouring away whilst his left was totally 
 inactive. But Mr. Garrick effected a cure upon this gen- 
 tleman, by telling him a story of a one-handed actor, who 
 had a wooden arm made, and disdaining that one hand 
 should have all the labour, he would give the other a 
 hearty sl^p, and set it in full swing, like the pendulum of 
 a clock — for instance now, (imitating^ 
 
 I own the glorious subject fires my breast. 
 And my soul's darling passion stands confessed. 
 
 (^Bang goes Jhirtimyy 
 
 Beyond myself or Virtue*s sacred band — 
 Beyond my life I prize my native land. 
 
 ( Bang goes Dummy ) 
 
 Xhisk England's peace bought cheaply with my 
 
 blood. 
 And die with pleastire for my country's good. 
 
 ( Bang again goes Dutnmyy 
 
 So bang bang, swing swang, dingle dangle, went the 
 dead limb, and the poor actor was as proud of it as of his 
 living one. 
 
 I began to feel the full force of my friend's remarks, 
 when by way of winding the matter up, he says — ' Mark 
 me, were I to advise young actors, 1 should teach them 
 the following lines as a lesson for their future improve- 
 ment : 
 
EARTH, AIK, AND WATER. 149 
 
 He who would act must think : for thought will find 
 The art, to form the body, by the mind. 
 Weigh, for example, these few maxims right. 
 And steer your course by the befriending light. 
 On the rais'd neck, oft mov'd, but ever straight. 
 Turn your unbending head with easy state ; 
 Shun rambling looks — fix your attention high 
 Pointed, earnestly meeting eye with eye. 
 Spread, be your opening breast ; oft chang'd your 
 
 face, 
 Step, with a slow severity of grace, 
 Pausingly, warm (significantly) rise, 
 And affectation's empty swell despise. 
 
 Be what you seem — each pictur'd passion weigh. 
 Fill, first, your thoughts, with all your words must 
 
 say. 
 Strong, yet distinguish'd, let expression paint. 
 Not straining mad, nor negligently faint. 
 On rising spirits, let your voice take wing,' 
 And nerves elastic, into passion spring. 
 Let every joint keep time, each sinew bend. 
 And the shot soul, in every start, ascend 
 
 All my arguments were ineflfectual with the old gentle- 
 man, whose name was Nicholas (so of course he was cal- ' 
 led Old Nick) and I afterwards understood his antipathy 
 against innovation was entirely owing to the manner in 
 which two of his sons were prepossessed in favor of acting. 
 
 I contended that, comparatively speaking, there were 
 very few actors ; and the old gentleman, on the other hand, 
 said, the devil had certainly possessed the major part of 
 mankind ; for, says he, your parson acts, your doctor acts, 
 your undertaker acts — and the only man that ever spoke 
 truth, was our Immortal Bard, Billy Shakspeare. 
 
 He knew the world — understood human nature, and has 
 convinced mankind that he was not writing for profit alone, 
 but for the benefit of his country, and the cause of litera- 
 ture to the end of the world. 
 
 n3 
 
160 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 Mr. Mathews' Entertainment of Air, Earth, and 
 Water, concludes with a scene onboard the Polly packet, 
 ■wherein he personates various characters, as follow : 
 
 Daniel O'Rourke, 
 Mrs. Tulip. 
 Monsieur Jeu Singe. 
 Major Longeow. 
 Mr. Theophii.us Tulip. 
 And Isaac Tabinett. 
 
 The whole of which were so well sustained, that he kept 
 the house in one continued roar of laughter. 
 
 Here his extraordinary powers were witnessed to much 
 l^vantage, and the wojiderful activity of his mind and body 
 ■were brought into action so as to delight those who cannot 
 but appreciate so excellent a performer. 
 
 In short, the rapidity with which he introduces us to the 
 whole company on board a packet is incredible ; one after 
 another they appear, and the illusion is so great that many 
 persons absolutely were in doubt as to the probability of 
 one man assuming a task of such immense difficulty with 
 'such decided effect. 
 
 Every character is so marked — so truly delineated — so 
 different in speech and action, and so satirically humourous, 
 that a being, sinking under the subduing power of the blue 
 devils, ■would find his risible muscles enlisted in the cause 
 of Mirth, and be obliged to yield to the prepossessing- 
 tpuches of Wit and unequalled mimicry of this acknow- 
 ledged British favourite. 
 
 Among the characters enumera.ted above, we ha,ve in- 
 troduced our old friend, Daniel O'Rourke, an Irish steward 
 on board the packet, v/hp favours us with a melancholy 
 strain called the Groves of Blarney, which is repeated 
 Cin part) with much effect. — Mr. 1 heophilus Tulip, the 
 youth of five-and-twenty, an overgrown booby, continually 
 calling for his mamma, is excel'eutly conceived, and well 
 represented by our actor, and' drew down incessant peals 
 of laughter and applause. — Mrs. Tulip, the mother of this 
 ?imiable youth, is likewise introduced, and is discovered to 
 tfi ^ tall widow, dressed in a riding habit, and whose 
 
EARTH, AIR, AND WATER. 151 
 
 ojyect appears to be to command both passengers and 
 crew, and take the greatest care of her dear child, her 
 delicate Theophilus. — Monsieur Jeu Singe, a Frenchman, 
 is brought before us with great effect. — Major Longbow is 
 busy on board, and keeps us alive with " pon my soul its 
 true, what'Il you lay its a lie 1" — And last, though not 
 least, we have Isaac Tabinett, a travelling Jew, and gene- 
 ral dealer, with watches all up his pack pone, handker- 
 chief stufied in his poots, and one watch in his pocket, vot 
 cosht him four poundsh, vat he can sell in Pond-street for 
 eighty. — To conclude the last act of the piece, Mr. Mathews 
 arrives in the cabin clad in a travelling- cap and cloak, and 
 by introducing himself first to the characters and then to 
 the audience, concludes the third act of a very excellent 
 entertainment. 
 
 On the last night of his performing the above-named 
 Lecture on peculiarity, character, and manners, the house 
 was full at an early hour with company of the highest 
 rank and fashion in the empire — the Strand was crowded 
 with noblemen and gentlemen's carriages, and a greater 
 anxiety was evinced to enjoy the performances than ever. 
 At the end of the last act, or the Polly Packet, (which, 
 by the bye, has been frequently performed since) silence 
 prevailed in every part of the Theatre, and the greatest 
 anxiety was manifested to hear those expressions of grati- 
 tude from the lips of him whose life has been devoted to the 
 service of the public. 
 
 MR. MATHEWS' FAREWELL ADDRESS AT THE 
 ENGLLSH OPERA HOUSE, 
 
 June 16, 1821. 
 
 After having completed his 160th night's performance, 
 which was the last of playing for the season — he stepped 
 forward, and addressed his audience to the following 
 effect : > 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, 
 
 It has been said, and I believe truly, that every man, 
 however gifted by talents and cultivated by learning, has 
 some point in his character open to the attacks of flattery, 
 and accessible to the assaults of vanity. To partake of 
 
162 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 this weakness therefore, in common with the clever and the 
 wise, is a disgrace to no man ; be this as it may, I freely 
 acknowledge myself, albeit neither learned nor wise, in 
 the highest degree vain, and to the greatest extent sus- 
 ceptible of flattery. The flattery of which I speak, is your 
 undiminished approbation and applause ; and the vanity 
 which I think so excusable as to make it my boast, arises 
 from the belief, that no man, by his own single exertions, 
 was ever so fortunate as to excite the public notice and 
 attention for so long a period as I have had the happiness 
 of exciting yours. This evening will close the 160th per- 
 formance in which I have stood alone before you ; and I 
 may therefore with truth assert, what few in the world 
 perhaps can assert so truly, that I have passed 160 even- 
 ings with unmixed pleasure, for I have seen nothing 
 around me but cheerful friends and happy faces. If thio 
 world be indeed, as we are told it is, a world of trouble 
 and care, how gratified should he feel, who (for a few 
 hours at least) can banish those demons from the hearts of 
 his friends ; and believing, as my vanity (pardonable vanity 
 I trust) induces me to believe, that I have been the means 
 of accomplishing this desirable end, I confess my gratifica- 
 tion will be unbounded and complete, provided you allow 
 me the pleasure of anticipating as cheerful a meeting next 
 year ; and in the mean time accept, with gracious kind- 
 ness, my heartfelt thanks and most respectful farewell. 
 
 This address was listened to with attention, and was 
 certainly delivered with great effect — Mr. Mathews seemed 
 to feel every syllable he had to utter, and no sooner had 
 he finished his address and bowed to the audience, than 
 all, ladies and gentlemen, with one spontaneous feeling, 
 rose, handkerchiefs were seen waving in the boxes, and 
 rapturous cheers issued from both pit and galleries, and 
 every individual seemed to depart in sorrow, to think that 
 parties so well pleased with each other were obliged to 
 separate — indeed, hundreds remained standing at the 
 Btage-door, whose looks and actions said 
 
 Parting is such sweet sorrow. 
 
 That we could say good-night until to-morrow. 
 
A COLLECTION 
 
 OP 
 
 HUMOROUS SONGS 
 
 ATTRIBUTED TO 
 
 XMHU CHARZiES MATHEWS. 
 
 AMONG WHICH WILL BE FOUND 
 
 SOME OF THE 
 
 MOST POPULAR AND TRULY ECCENTRIC PRODUCTIONS 
 OF THE PRESENT DAY. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &c. 
 
 THE MILL. (AngUce, A FIGHT.) 
 
 Lords ! how bright to-day, up before light to-day. 
 Where is the fight to-day ? Down at the Hurst — 
 Drags from Westminster, Prads in their best mixture, 
 All were dress'd in their best or their worst. 
 Down the road — merry load — 
 Kingston hill — weary load — 
 Moulsey I — full ferry load — not a foot still- 
 Crowds to see duty done — which is the beauty cue, 
 I'll bet you two to one, down at the mill 
 
 (Spoken) — Who's for Moselee 7 who's for the mill ? — How 
 much will you take to conduct me and my wife down to the 
 scratch ?— Ninepence, come jump up ; here, your honour, 
 going down ? — How much ? — A hog a-piece. — You lie, its 
 only thruppence. — What do you mean by giving me the 
 lie ? I'll have satisfaction.— You lie, I didn't give you the 
 lie. — Here, Harleken Billy, pull up and put his nose to the 
 corn for a trifle of time, and we'll damp our mugs a-bit. 
 — I say, saucy Ned, your lich pens is out. — Veil, niver 
 mind, its used to it : it von't come off. Seven in a tax- 
 cart von't spill easy. — I say, who's that in the swell tilbury 
 and lily benjaman ? — Vy, that's Lord Wicount Squinneyhat. 
 — Ah! Caleb, how do; what'U you take? — 'Don't care, 
 any thing wet, a drap o' heavy brown-with a dash o' light blue 
 in't.— Ah ! Mr. Isaacs, how are you ? going down the road 
 ay, how do you bet your blunt? — Vy, I'm six to four on 
 the (lead man. — Wy, I'm all for Doughey myself — Vat, de 
 baker ?— Yes, I'mdownupon the Master ojihe Kolk.—'l saw 
 
156 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 Doughey this morning. — Veil, how vas he ? — 0, as merry 
 as a grig upon a gridiron.-r-Here's five to four on the Non- 
 pareil. — There go the four-in-hand swells, there's a consaim, 
 blow my smock-frock, if ever I seed such a set out ; twig 
 the crawlers, two tumblers, a puffer, and a blinker, three of 
 'em stands still while he whips the fourth ; veil, if I driv 
 four, I voud have good'uns. — Why, my costermonger, 
 you're tooling a rum'un yourself. — Yes, a rum'un to look 
 at, but a good'un to go. — Ah ! you never has no cattle, 
 you never gives ao price, you don't ; why don't you do as 
 I does, go to Smithfield and gwajive ^niS. forty shillings, 
 and have a good'un at once. — Come up, and so 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Push along, dash along, merrily chat along. 
 As we all trot along, down to the Hurst. 
 Ropes now are tightening, eyes now are bright'ning. 
 
 No fudge or fright'ning — look at the men — 
 Baker shows clever now — all's in a fever now — 
 I Up goes the beaver now — answered again — 
 f Pushing now — scrambling now — 
 
 Not a nag ambling now — 
 Prigs fingers rambling now — all are awake — 
 
 Jew lads are dealing now, all are ring feeling now— 
 Fighters are peeling, vith fifty's the stake. 
 
 (Spoken) — Sit down, will you? if people in the front 
 
 won't sit down, people behind can't see ; down there, will 
 
 you ! — I can't. — You'd better say you won't. — Yell then i 
 
 von't. — Ay, you're a spoon and a half, good weight, you 
 
 , are, — Sit down, you with the lily togs, will you ? — Hit him 
 
 ! on the hat with your nunibreller : lay down will you ? — • 
 
 1 Vhat, Mr. James Timkins, with this new white coat on in 
 
 ! the mud ! no, sqiieedge me if I do. — They're at it, they're 
 
 i coming to the scratch ; the castors are up. — Look in good 
 
 j order. — Yes, they're peeling, they buff it well. — Yes. — 
 
 ! They're at it already. — Ten to four on Doughey, and put it 
 
 I into the hands of this gentleman without a coat — Who'll 
 
 1 keep time ? — I will ; no I can't. — What, don't your watch 
 
 I go? — Its gone, sir. — You should always bring a stop- 
 
 I watch when you come to a fight.— Some person has de 
 
 prived me of my East Indian silk handkercBfief.-— What, 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &6. 157 
 
 have you lost your sneezer ? I say Bill, here's a poor creetur 
 lost his Bandanna wpe. — Sarves him right ; I niwr brings 
 none, whereby I niver loses none. — The baker thinks veil 
 of himself. — Pretty stop that I — That's a sweet hit ! — He's 
 queered his optics, floored him right down upon his crupper 
 bone, there's a tickler on his proboscis! there's a wap on his 
 tater-trap ! — Ay, he made his box o' dominoes chatter.— 
 Baker shows first claret, and a graper, he's taking measure 
 of his eyes for a suit of mourning ; there' another u-7«£ to 
 the wittualling office. — Bravo ! Doughey his sarving out till 
 he's piping like a frog in convulsions. — Stop my kiddy, not 
 so fast, your Master of the Rolls has got his head into Chan- 
 ceiy. — So 
 
 Push along, dash along, &c. 
 
 Milling is ended now-— seconds are lending now 
 
 Eagerly brandy their spirits to cheer — 
 Finishing, punishing, makes the stake-money shine- 
 Sure its astonishing some that are here — 
 Turn about — early out- 
 Pockets cleaned — fairly out- 
 Flats turning sulky now, cleaned of their cash- 
 Crowds now returning, half the fancy's in mourning — 
 Raws are all learning now news from the flash. 
 
 (Spoken) — Well, how did you like it ? pretty fight, 
 war'ntit? not much claret spilt, should like to have seen 
 a little more claret spilt. — Pretty well, I think, for mode- 
 rate takers. — Ay, but the baker's a glutton, you know. — 
 Neat fibbing in the fourth round. — Yes, I shouldn't like 
 such a wisit to my bone shop. — Black George, here's room 
 on the shafts. — G6tdown, ha'n't eight enough for a poney. 
 Ah ! Pat, how are you? — How do, honey? — Did you win 
 your blunt? — O you may say that. — Pretty blow of your 
 countryman's in the third round. — O, it was an elegant 
 fight, by my soul! it was an illustrious fight — faith, I 
 thought he'd have knock'd doughey's breath into the middle 
 of next week, it was like a kick from a coach-horse. — Pray 
 sir, can you tell me which has won the wictory ? — Why, sir, 
 they were both so wapp'd, I could'nt tell which had the 
 wictory, but I believe the dead man's beat. — What's one 
 kill'd ? — No sir, but that's always the way with haggra- 
 
 o 
 
tM THBATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 uating Sam, the dead man means the baker. Sir.— Well, 
 Mr. Steady, how did you like it? — Why, sir, lean only 
 •ay this is the £rst time I ever witnessed an assemblage of 
 this sort, and I will take care it shall be the last. 1 have 
 been exceedingly disappointed, not to say disgusted j my 
 person has experienced extreme inconvenience from the 
 weather, my stomach has been deranged at the horrid ex- 
 hibition, and I have been clandestinely deprived of my 
 property by some adept at irregular appropriation.— I'd 
 thank some gentleman to put that into English for me. — 
 Why sir, the conveyancers have been busy. — I'm as much 
 in the dark now as ever,— Why then, sir, I'll explain it to 
 you : he means, there's been a rum squeedge at the spell, 
 the conveyancers have been at work at the scratch. The 
 prigs have been dipping their mauleys into that swells grapiu, 
 *iimmed his birds-eye wipe, his gold ticker, three one pound 
 screens, two neds, and his reader ; but the beaks have sent 
 their traps arter 'em, and if they are cotched, they'll show 
 'em the fall of the leaf, at Tuck-up Fair, or send 'em 
 a board the Floating Academy, at Woolwich. — Well, by 
 way of explanation, that certainly is the plainest thing I 
 ever heard.-^Well, I declare I never won't come no more; 
 I would* nt tell my wife of it on any account ; its the most 
 horridest—ianguinashionest sight I ever seed. I am told one 
 gentleman swallowed his teeth. — I can tell you worserthan 
 that — there was one gentleman had his eye knocked into 
 his ear, I saw it peeping out.— Well Mr. Downright, what 
 do you say to it ? — Why, sir, I think in some measure, to 
 keep up the national spirit in the lower orders of society, 
 it may be tolerated ; but when we see characters of the 
 highest order, that might be better employed with their 
 equals, hand in hand with the lowest of the low, and 
 making friends of gamblers, ruffians, and black-legs, I 
 deplore their total want of feeling, and blush for the moral* 
 of the age w« live in.— Indeed, why then 
 
 Push along, dash along, &c. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C, 159 
 
 KNOWING JERRY. 
 
 I was brought up at home with my mother and dad^ 
 
 And an old maiden aunt too, so crusty : 
 The neighbours said I was a main pretty lad, 
 
 'Cause I was so good humour'd and lusty. 
 I could wrestle and jump, kiss the girls and all that, 
 
 And at mischief wsn't wanting, no, never. 
 And at cards my old granny could queer too quite pat» 
 
 Aye, egad I was deucedly clever. 
 
 (Spoken.) — ^Aye, aye, Jerry was the lad for— 
 
 Crickets, quoits. 
 Flying kites, 
 Running races. 
 Blacking faces, 
 Knockers tie. 
 Cunning, sly. 
 Making posts 
 Like ghosts ; 
 
 Ever ready for fun, always active and merry, 
 I was caird by the folks Knowing Jerry. 
 
 Knowing Jerry, &c. 
 
 At twenty, my mother and dad chanc'd to die. 
 
 And my old maiden aunt a month after. 
 They left a large fortune, d'ye mind me to I, 
 
 Which cost me some tears, but more laughter. 
 Having heard talk of London, to town straight I went 
 
 And a lesson soon learnt of my betters, 
 That in fashion and frolic a something was meant. 
 
 Much better than learning one's letters. 
 
 (Spoken.) — So, d'ye see, I took sample, as a body may 
 Ray, bought a prime equipage, mounted the box, squared 
 my elbows, and drove along Rotten-Row a la tantrum, \ 
 think they call it ; aye, and before I'd been in town six 
 months, why egad I could 
 
 Cock my glass. 
 Quiz a lass, 
 
 o2 
 
160 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 KuD against time. 
 Come in prime, 
 Spur in boot, 
 Pigeon shoot. 
 Run jokes. 
 Prime hoax. 
 
 Ever ready for fun, always active and merry, 
 I was called by the dons Knowing Jerry. 
 
 Knowing Jerry, &c. 
 
 Then I married Miss Prattle, a bundle of sweets. 
 
 The heiress, d'ye mind, of a grocer, 
 "Who delighted in visiting balls, and grand fetes. 
 Spoke French, and quite all the go, six ; 
 • Took a house near St. James's, not far from Hay-hill, 
 'Gaged coachmen, cooks, scullions by dozens, 
 Bade the tradesmen, d'ye mind me, put it all in their 
 bill. 
 And gave routs to the world and its cousins. 
 
 (Spoken,) — Yes, yes, we contrived to keep it up in style 
 yesterday, — aye, — yesterday we went to Lady Dashit's 
 public breakfast ; at one Lord Crotchet's musical party ;. at 
 six enquired after my Lady Faddle's sick monkey ; at 
 seven dined with my Lord Epicure ; at eight dropt in at 
 the Opera ; at eleven drove home to our rout and card 
 party j at one, where we foimd — 
 
 Horses tearing, 
 Coachey sweariL^ 
 Pannels broke. 
 What a joke. 
 Ladies, Peers, 
 Coaches, chairs. 
 Grand swarm. 
 How warm. 
 
 ' In the round of delight ever active and merry. 
 Is my rib and her dear Knowing Jerry. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 161 
 
 CALEB QUOTEM. 
 
 I'm parish clerk and sexton here, 
 
 Bly name is Caleb Quotem — 
 I'm painter, glazier, auctioneer. 
 
 In short, I am factotum, 
 I make a watch, I mend the pumps — 
 
 ^^For plumber's work my knack is) 
 I physic sell — I cure the mumps — 
 I tomb-stones cut — I cut the rumps 
 Of little school-boy Jackies. 
 
 Geography is my delight- 
 Ballads, epitaphs I write — 
 Almanacks I can indite — 
 Graves I dig compact and tight. 
 At night, by the fire, like a good jolly cook, 
 When the day's work is done and all over, 
 I tipi)le, I smoke, and I wind up the clock, 
 With my sweet Mrs. Quotem, in clover. 
 With my amen, gaymen, 
 Rum Quotem, 
 Factotum ; 
 Putty and lead ; 
 Stumps, mumps. 
 Bumps, rumps. 
 Mortar he thumps ; 
 Joggamy, floggamy— 
 Signy-post daubery— 
 Split crow or strawbery— 
 Chimery, rhymery — 
 Liquorish, stickerish— 
 Chizzle-tomb — 
 Frizzle comb — ■ 
 Going, a-going ! 
 Squills— 
 Pills- 
 Songs inditing— 
 Epitaph writing- 
 Steeple sounu 
 Corpse to the ground^ 
 Windsor soap — 
 Physic the pope — 
 o3 
 
162 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 Home hop- 
 Shut up shop— 
 Punch-bowl crockery, 
 Wind up clockery. 
 Many small articles make up a sura, 
 I dabble in all — I'm merry and rum ; 
 And 'tisheigho for Caleb Quotem, O. 
 
 THE TORTOISE-SHELL TOM-CAT. 
 
 Oh, what a story the papers have been telling us, 
 
 About a little animal of mighty price, 
 And who ever thought but an Auctioneer of selling us. 
 
 For near three hundred yellow boys, a trap for mice ; 
 Of its beauties and its qualities, no doubt he told them 
 
 fine tales. 
 But for me, I should have soon have bought a cat of 
 
 nine tails ; 
 I wouldn't give for all the cats in Christendom so vast 
 
 a fee. 
 Not to save 'em from the catacombs or Catalani's 
 catastrophe ; 
 Kate of Russia, Katterfelto's cat, and Catalani, 
 Are every one 
 By Tom outdone. 
 As you shall hear. 
 
 (Spoken.) — We'll suppose Mr. Cafs-eye, the Auctioneer, 
 with his catalogue in one hand, and a hammer like a Cata- 
 pulta in the other, mounted in the rostrum at the great 
 room in Cateaton-street. 
 
 ' Hem ! Leds and Gemmen — Cats are of two distinctions : 
 Thomas and Tabby — This is of the former breed, and the 
 only instance in which 1 have seen beauty monopolized by 
 a male ! Look at bim, ladies! what a magnificent mouser I 
 meek though masculine ! The curious concatenation of 
 colour in that Cat, calls Categorically for your best bid- 
 ding. Place a proper price upon poor Pussey ; consult 
 your fcliae bosoms, and bid me knock him down. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 163 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, a-going, going, going — 
 Any sum for Tommy Tortoise-shell you can't think 
 dear.* 
 
 Next I shall tell ye, the company around him, 
 They emulously bade as if they were all wild ; 
 
 Tom thought them mad, while they King of Kittens 
 cro\v:n'd him. 
 And kiss'd, caress'd, and dandled him just like a 
 child : 
 
 Lady Betty Longwaist, and Mrs. Martha Griskin, 
 
 Prim Polly Pussey-Iove, Miss Scratch, and Biddy 
 Twiskin, 
 
 Solemn Sally Solus, who to no man yes had ever said, 
 
 Killing Kitty Crookedlegs, and neat Miss Nelly Never- 
 wed, 
 
 Crowding, squeezing, nodding, bidding, each for Puss 
 so eager. 
 
 Have Tom they would, 
 By all that's good. 
 As you shall hear. 
 
 (Spoken m diffei'ent voices.) Irish Lady— -Och, the dear 
 crater, how beautiful he looks when he shuts his eyes '. 
 beautiful indeed! He'd even lure the mice to look at 
 him. 
 
 Auctioneer. — Forty-five guineas in twenty places 
 
 By different Ladies. — Sixty-five ! — Seventy ! — Eighty !— 
 Ninety I 
 
 Auctioneer. — Go on, Ladies ; nobody bid more ? It's 
 enough to make a Cat swear to think he should go for so 
 little. If the Countess of Catamaran was here, she'd out- 
 bid ye all. Miss Grimalkin, you are a Connoiseur in Cats, 
 
 what shall I say ? Ninety-five guineas, sir. {In an old 
 
 tremulous tone) 
 
 Auctioneer. — Thank you. Miss. Mem, it does not sig- 
 nify, you may bid as you will, but he shall be mine, if I 
 bid all day. One hundred and twenty. Sir. 
 
 Auctioneer. — Thank ye, Lady Letty. — Take a long, last, 
 lingering look. Ladies. What a wonder ! The only Tor- 
 toise-shell Tom the world ever witnessed '. See how he 
 
1G4 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 twists his tail, and washes his whiskers! Tom, Tom, 
 Tom ! (Cat mews.') How musically and divinely he mews, 
 Ladies ? — One hundred and seventy guineas, sir. 
 
 Auctioneer. ^-ThdiXik you, Miss Tabby, you'll not be 
 made a cat's-paw of, depend on. it. — (Ladies lacugh) Glad 
 to hear you laugh. Ladies : I see how the Cat jumps now ; 
 Tommy's going. 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, a-going, going, going, 
 
 Any sum for Tommy Tortoise-shell you cant think 
 
 dear. 
 Now louder and warmer the competition growing. 
 Politeness nearly banish'd in the grand fracas. 
 Two hundred — two hundred and thirty- three a-going — 
 
 Gone ! — Never cat of talons met with such eclat : 
 Nay, nine or ten fine gentlemen were in the fashion 
 
 caught, as well 
 As ladies in their bidding fcr this purring piece of Tor- 
 toise-shell. 
 The buyer bore him off in triumph, after all the fun was 
 
 done, 
 And bells rung as if Whittington had been Lord Mayor 
 
 of London. 
 Mice and rats flung up their hats, for joy that cats so 
 
 scarce were, 
 4nd mouse-trap makers rais'd the price full cent per 
 
 cent, I swear, sir. 
 
 NON TONG PAW. 
 
 John Bull, for pastime, took a prance. 
 Some time ago, to peep at France ; 
 To talk of sciences and arts, 
 And knowledge gain'd iu foreign parts. 
 
 Mounseer, obsequious, heard him speak. 
 And answered him in heathen greek 
 To all he ask'd, 'bout all be saw 
 'Tw^as, Monsieur, je vous n'eDtends p»s. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 165 
 
 John to the palace royal come, 
 Its splcudour almost struck him dumb ; 
 I say, whose house is that there here ? 
 Hessi, je vous n'entends pas, mounsieur. 
 
 What! nongtongpaw again, cries John, 
 The fellow is some mighty don ; 
 No doubt has plenty for the maw, 
 I'll breakfast with this nong tong paw. 
 
 John saw Versailles from Marks's height. 
 And cried, astonished at the sight. 
 Whose fine estate is that there here ? 
 Stat, je vous n'entend pas, mounseer. 
 
 His! what the land and houses too? 
 
 The fellow's richer than a Jew, 
 
 On every side he lays his claw, 
 
 I should like to dine with this nong tong paw. 
 
 Next tripping came a courtly fair, 
 John cried, enchanted with her air. 
 What lovely wench was that there here ? 
 Ventch, je vous n'entends pas, mounseer. 
 
 What ! he again ! upon my life, 
 
 A palace, lands, and then a wife ; 
 
 Sir Joshua might delight to draw — 
 
 I should like to sup with this nong tong paw. 
 
 But hold, who's funeral's that, cries John, 
 Je zous, nan tends pas. What, is he gone ? 
 Wealth, fame, and beauty could not save 
 Poor nong tong paw then from the grave. 
 
 His race is run, his game is up, 
 I'd with him breakfast, dine, and sup ; 
 But since he chooses to withdraw. 
 Good-night t'ye Mounseer nong tong paw. 
 
106 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 SUCH A BEAUTY I DID GROW. 
 
 When I was a little boy, 
 
 Some sixteen years of age, 
 I was the pride of Mamma's heart. 
 
 She made me quite a a shew. 
 
 Such a beauty I did grow. 
 
 Strait hair I had, and goggle eyes. 
 
 And such a roguish leer ; 
 A broad flat nose, and mouth 
 
 Turn'd up from ear to ear. 
 
 Such a beauty I did grow, 
 
 .My Mamma prais'd my wond'rous charms. 
 
 And when she did me fill. 
 Lest she should spoil my mouth with a spoon, 
 
 She fed me with a quill. 
 
 Such a beauty I did grow. 
 
 And when that I could n» alone. 
 
 Stock still I never stood ; 
 For ducks were my companions, 
 
 For I waddled through the mud. 
 
 Such a beauty I did grow. 
 
 When first I went into the streets, 
 
 The folks turn'd up their eyes ; 
 For like an owl seen at noon day, 
 
 I struck them with surprise — 
 
 Such a beauty I did grow. 
 
 With mountebanks most numerous, 
 
 I beat them all quite hollow 
 
 I won the pretty gold-lac'd hat. 
 
 By grinning through a collar. 
 
 Such a beauty I did grow. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C, 167 
 
 Then I learnt to be so musical, 
 
 I got oft" songs so pat ; 
 I could groan bass like a bagpipe. 
 
 And squall treble like a cat. 
 
 Such a beauty I did grow. 
 
 Then I was sent to a dancing school 
 
 For to get a finish there ; 
 And soon I could dance a minuet 
 
 As graceful as a bear, 
 
 Such a beauty I did grow. 
 
 My name is Jemmy Robinson, 
 
 As every body knows ; 
 And they stuck me in a barley fiela 
 
 To fright away the crows, 
 
 Such a beauty I did grow. 
 
 BEGGARS AND BALLAD - SINGERS. 
 
 Merry Proteus of old, as by Ovid we're told, 
 Could vary his shape as he chose ; 
 
 Then why should not he, my model be, 
 
 When in Charity's name I impose — impose. 
 
 (Spoken.) — You must know, good folks, that I belong 
 to the hcmourable fraternity of beggars, ballad-singers, 
 and show-folks : in begging, as in all other fashionable 
 employments, a little well-timed, smooth-faced flattery 
 goes a great way. For instance now: I address a very 
 old maid (for I am sure to know them by their vinegar, 
 crab-like countenances) by the title of the most beautiful 
 lady ; a raw, awkward fellow of a recruit, most noble 
 captain : any person in a carriage, right honourable ; and 
 a })oor country village curate, with his shirt seen at his 
 elbows, by the title of the right reverend archbishop : for 
 the love of him who made you, bestow something on a 
 poor 
 
 Tol lol, &c. 
 
168 THJLATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 There's a diflerence between a beggar and a queen, 
 
 And 1 11 tell you the reason why ; 
 A queen cannot swagger, nor get drunk like a beggar. 
 
 Nor yet be so happy as I — as I. 
 
 (Spoken.) — Why, how the devil should they? you knovr 
 they are obliged to support a kind of a dignified character ; 
 now, I can change mine as often as I please ; for, like a 
 juggler, I can deal in legerdemain ; I am ambidexter, and 
 can use both hands like an attorney ; and as to honesty, 
 that's an accomplishment that gets but little encouragement 
 now a days, its a mere. 
 
 Tol lol, &c. 
 
 Like a sailor from the wars covered over witli our 
 scars, 
 "When I choose in that character to beg ; 
 My knuckles I hold flat, and y'lih. the t'other arm ray 
 hat. 
 And this way I hold up ray leg — my leg. 
 
 (Spoken.) — Come ray noble messmate, bestow your cha- 
 rity upon a poor, lam'd-in-the-service seaman ; stump'd in 
 the starboard gam, his knee-braces shot away, and turned 
 out of the service without a smart ticket. 
 
 Tol lol, &c. 
 
 Now dash'd upon the billows, 
 
 Her opening timbers creak. 
 Each fears a watery pillow. 
 
 None stopp'd the dreadful leak : 
 To cling to slipp'ry shrouds, 
 
 Each breathless seaman crowds. 
 As she lay, till the day, 
 
 In the Bay of Biscay, O. 
 
 (Spoken.) — * Here, my good fellow, there's something for 
 you, you have been an honour to your country/ ' An 
 honour, ma'am, to be sure I have ; but, like most honour- 
 able gentlemen, my honour consists in my 
 
 Tol lol/ &c. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 1619 
 
 There is Dolly and I, as ballads we cry. 
 On a couple of stools see us stand ; 
 
 While she bawls aloud as the folks passes by, 
 I then take my fiddle in hand — in hand. 
 
 (Spoken.) — Come, neighbours and friends, here is an 
 excellent new song, entitled and call'd, •'^ I am a bold and 
 a roving boy :" come, Dick, play up.' — ' Stop, Moll, let 
 us rosin the bow a little first.' 
 
 I am a bold and a roving boy. 
 My lodging's in the Isle of Troy : 
 A roving boy although I be, 
 I'll leave them all and go with thee. 
 
 (Spoken.) — ' That's a bad halfpenny you've taken, Moll.' 
 
 * It an't a bad halfpenny I've taken.' ' It is.' * It an't.*^ 
 
 * O ! mammy, mammy, mammy.' * There, you jade, 
 you've set the child a crying, I've a great mind to break 
 my fiddle over your head.' * You break your fiddle over 
 my head! I don't care for you nor your fiddle neither j 
 not as long as I can sing 
 
 Tol fol,' &c. 
 
 When the begging trade turns scarce, 
 
 I can substitute in place 
 
 A raree show with lingo so grand. 
 
 With a bell in my hand, and a box upon my back, 
 
 I address all the children around — around. 
 
 I address, &c, 
 
 (Spoken.) — ' Come now, my pritties, and you shall see 
 what you shall see ; that you shall. There now, look 
 into that glass, don't breathe upon it. First of all, you 
 have a grand view of the Chinese conventipn, at the back 
 of Common garden, in London, where the nobility are so 
 much araus'd at the grandeur of the place, that they walk 
 backwards and forwards, viewing two French ambassa- 
 dors shaking hands with one another ; is not that a pretty 
 sight ? I'm sure it is. Look to the right, and you see the 
 battle of Bunker's Hill, with the red flag flying high upon 
 
170 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 the garrison, and the smoke coming out at both cannons* 
 ends, and small arms ; isn't that a dreadful sight ? I'm 
 sure it is. There, again you see the British fleet, sailing 
 out of the Channel : and its all for the glory of the British 
 nation. Next you see the grand Emperor, Napoleon the 
 First, ride upon a white horse ; and you see the King of 
 Italy, the King of Holland, the King of Spain, the King 
 of Prussia, Emperor of Russia, the King of Bavaria, the 
 King of Westphalia, the King of Wurtemberg, and thirty 
 more kings, all with a hold of his horse's tail, because ha 
 was the grand Emperor. Last of all, you see sailor Jack 
 and his sweetheart ; that*s worth all your money, though 
 you see notMng else. 
 
 * When that expedient fails I've still another, and that 
 is. Walk in-— walk in. Ladies and Gentlemen, now is 
 your time to see the wonderful collection of birds and 
 beasts, all alive. There you will see a most wonderful 
 animal, that will travel at the rate of thirty miles a day, 
 without the least refreshment or water : he's got a nose 
 like a deer, lips like a cow, and his manner resembles 
 that of a lion ; he's got two humps on his back, the one a 
 gristle and the other a bone : look at his feet, gem- 
 men, they be soft as sponge, — come my boy, make the 
 gemmen a bow — wow ! 
 
 Tol loV &c. 
 
 To make the wretched blest, private charity is best, 
 These common beggars spurn at our laws j 
 
 Though reprobate the train, yet I mean to beg again. 
 To solicit your smiles and applause — applause. 
 
 {SpokenJ) — • So you see, my good folks, if you do not 
 condescend to smile upon me, I must e'en say, my begging 
 and show trades are no better than my 
 
 Tol lol/ &c. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 171 
 
 SIIAKSPEAR'S SEVEN AGES. 
 
 Our immortal poet's page says that all the world's a 
 
 stage, 
 And that men, with all their airs, are nothbg more thaa 
 
 players ; 
 Each using skill and art, in his turn to play his part : 
 
 All to fill up this farcical scene, O. 
 Enter here, exit there, stand in view, mind your cue. 
 
 Hey down, ho down, derry, derry, down, 
 
 AH to fill up this farcical scene, O ! 
 
 First the infant on the lap, mewling, pewling for its pap. 
 
 Like the rabbit which we truss, is swaddled by its nurse, 
 
 Who to please the puppet tries, as he giggles and he 
 
 cries. 
 
 All to fill up this farcical scene, ! 
 
 (The singer here imitates the crying of a child.^ 
 
 Hush-a-by, wipe an eye, kiss a pretty, what a titty — 
 
 (Spoken.') — Ha, ha ! it was none mamma's pretty pretty ; 
 and if he is a good boisey, poisey, he shall go a ridey, 
 pidey, in a coachey, poachey — Ya I ya ! 
 Hey down, &c. 
 
 Then the pretty bahe of grace, with his shining morning 
 
 face. 
 And his satchell on bis back, to school, alas ! must pack. 
 While like a snail he creeps, and for black Monday 
 
 weeps, 
 
 AH to fill up this farcical scene, ' 
 Book mislaid, truant play'd, rod in pickle, bum to tickle. 
 
 (Imitates schoolmaster and boy.)—'* Come up, sirrah, and 
 say your lesson. — What letter is that 1' — ' A.' — * Well, 
 sir, what is the next ?' — * That, sir.' — It is not that, sir— it 
 is this, sir. — Now spell B-i-r-m-i-n-g-h-a-m.— Well, sir, 
 what does that spell?' — 'Birmingham.* — 'Put out your 
 hand, sir. — There (slapping the boy's hand) — It is Brum- 
 magum.* 
 
 And sing hey down, &c. 
 
 pa 
 
172 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 Then the lover next appears, soused over head and ears, 
 
 Like a lobster in the fire, sighing ready to expire, 
 
 With a deep hole in his heart, you might through it drive 
 
 a cart. 
 
 All to fill up this farcical scene, O ! 
 Beauty spurns him, passion burns him, like a wizzard eats 
 
 his gizzard — 
 
 (Spoken.) — Oh, my most adorable Amelia, had I words 
 sufficiently strong to express my admiration of your be4uty, 
 you would at once believe me your devoted lover, and 
 complete my bliss by flying to his arms who must for ever 
 pine for the possession of that angelic form. 
 Hey down, &c. 
 
 Then the soldier, ripe for plunder, breathing slaughter, 
 
 blood, and thunder. 
 Like a cat among the mice, kicks a dust up in a trice ; 
 Talks of nought but streaming veins, shattered limbs, and 
 
 scattered brains. 
 
 All to fill up the farcical scene, O ! 
 Fight or fly, run or die, pop or pelter, helter skelter. 
 
 (^Spoken.) — Aye, I shall never forget the last battle I was 
 in, such marching and countermarching,^up the hill and 
 down the hill, — right and left, flank and rear. — Bless your 
 heart, I have fought up to my knees in blood ; and at the 
 very last battle I fought in I had six horses shot under me 
 — saw my comrades mown down like hay ; and just as a 
 twenty-four-pounder was coming towards me, I drew my 
 broad-sword — cut it right in two — one half went up in the 
 air, and the other half went — 
 
 Hey down, &c. 
 
 Then the justice in his chair, with his broad and vacant 
 
 stare ; 
 His wig of formal cut, and belly like a but. 
 Well lined with turtle hash, callipee and callipash, 
 
 All to fill up this farcical scene, O ? 
 Bawd and trull, pimp and cull, at his nod go to quod- 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 173 
 
 (Spoken.) — ' Now, sirrah, what's your name V — ' John.* 
 —'John what ?' — ' No, sir, not John What — John Thomas.* 
 — • Well, John Thomas, what right had you to take liber- 
 ties with that girl ?' — I didn't take liberties with her ; but 
 I think she takes a great liberty with me, when she swears 
 a child to me.'? — ' You must father it, sirrah.* — ' I wont : 
 let her father it herself.'—* What do you mean, sirrah, if 
 you are saucy here> you must go 
 
 Hey down, &c. 
 
 Then the slipper'd pantaloon, in life's dull afternoon, 
 With spectacles on nose, shrunk shank in youthful hose. 
 His voice once big and round, now whistles in the sound. 
 
 All to fill up this farcical scene, O ! 
 Vigour spent, body bent, shaking noddle, weddle wad- 
 dle.— 
 
 (5pofcen.^— Aye, times are altered now— old folks are 
 laughed at, and boys are respected.— Oh, dear me, how 
 my cough annoys me.— Ho ! Ho ! Ho ! ha ! 
 
 Hey down, &c. 
 
 Then to finish up the play, second childhood leads the 
 
 way. 
 And like sheep that's got the rot, all our senses go to pot, 
 When death amongst us pops, and down the curtain 
 
 drops. 
 
 All to fill up the farcical scene, O ! 
 When the coffin we move off in, while the bell tolls the 
 
 knell. 
 
 (Spoken.) — Aye, thus the scene finishes ; — then while we 
 •re here, why shouldn't we enjoy life ? and how can we 
 do better than assemble as we have done here — enjoy 
 a good song, and endeavour to make others happy by 
 singing— 
 
 Hey down, &f , 
 
 p 3 
 
174 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 DOCTOR LAST. 
 
 O, I am a physician snob. 
 
 Can cure every disease very fast ; 
 
 There's no better a hand at a job. 
 
 Nor so clever a man at a last. 
 
 I'm the son of a seventh son ; I, sirs. 
 
 Although in uo chariot I rolls ; 
 
 As a doctor, I'd cure up your bodies. 
 
 And as a cobbler I'd stitch up your soles. 
 
 (Spoken.)-— li yOM were only to see me in my shop, with 
 my awls and every thing so nice about me, and to see 
 how finely I toss about and handle the 
 
 Tol lol, &c. 
 
 Your Warwick-lane bred up physicians. 
 Strut about and look wondersome big, 
 While all their knowledge and skill lies. 
 In a gold-headed cane and large wig. 
 As for me, I can cure all distempers. 
 However so great they may be ; 
 But like most of my learned brothers. 
 No prescription without I've my fee. 
 
 (Spoken.) — No, no, no, there's nothing for nothing in 
 my shop ; I'll not give you the scraping of a gallipot or 
 a pen'orth of ointment, without you come down hand- 
 somely : I'm always for touching the 
 
 Tol lol, &c. 
 
 My wife, a poor dropsical creature, 
 
 I thought it might be for h^ good. 
 
 She was so blown and so bloach'd up with water, 
 
 For to let a few ounces of blood. 
 
 My lance it was out of the way, sir. 
 
 But my awl did the business as well j 
 
 She died as a body may say, sir, 
 
 Tho' the reason I never could tell. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C, 175 
 
 (Spoken.) — So, after her death, all her friends came to 
 me, and began a weeping ; but, says I, my good friends, 
 what sigBifies our grief, we are all " grass and hay, here 
 tomorrow, and thereto-day !" We must all die, from the 
 king on the throne, to the pig on the dunghill. But that 
 business makes me part with my 
 
 Tol lol, &c. 
 
 Tippy bobby, a crop of the age. 
 T'other day in great haste for me sent ; 
 Lest death should cap him off the stage. 
 So strait to my gemman I went. 
 I tipp'd him my lotion for sleeping. 
 Which, in a little time after he'd ta'en. 
 It made him to sleep so sound, sir. 
 So sound that he ne'er wak'd again. 
 
 (Spoken.)-^o, next day I called to see how my patient 
 did : I met the girl at the bottom of the stairs, with a very 
 long face ; so, says she, walk in. Dr. Last ; so in I goes : 
 but what should I see, to my great surprize, but my old 
 friend Bobby, lying on a table covered with a white sheet : 
 Ho ! ho, thinks I, there's no more use for the doctor here, 
 I saw his brother standing at the window, as it might be ; 
 but, says I, my dear friend, keep up your spirits, for its 
 the way we must all go, from the king on the throne, to 
 the pig on the dunghill. Very true, doctor ; but pray 
 what is your bill ? Oh ! says I, never mind that just now. 
 But, says he, the death of my unfortunate brother has 
 made me extremely melancholy, and I wish to go to Lon- 
 don to try to wear it off. Ho ! ho, thinks I, if that's the 
 case, I'll tip the gentleman my bill. So I tipp'd him the 
 bill, and he came down genteelly, very genteelly indeed j 
 and I came away wishing him a good morning, and saying, 
 keep up your spirits, sir, for we are all mortals, " grass 
 and hay, here to-morrow, and there to-day." But all 
 that mummery was after I toucb'd the 
 
 Tol Id, &c. 
 
176 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 THE LAWYER. 
 
 A lawyer, quite famous for making a bill, 
 
 And who in good living delighted ; 
 To dinner one day, with a hearty good will, 
 
 Was by a rich client invited. 
 But he charg'd six and eighT-pence for going to dine, 
 
 Which the client he paid, though no ninny : 
 And in turn charg'd the lawyer for dinner and wine ; 
 One a crown and the other a guinea! 
 
 But gossips you know, have a saying in store : 
 He who matches a lawyer has only one more. 
 And that is one lawyer the devil. 
 
 The lawyer he paid it, and took a receipt. 
 
 While the client star'd at him with wonder ; 
 But gave to his friend with the produce a treat, 
 
 Thcugh th£ lawyer soon made him knock under. 
 That his client sold wine, information he laid, 
 
 Without licence : and, spite of his storming, 
 The client a good thumping penalty paid, 
 
 And the lawyer got half for informing. 
 
 But gossips you know, &c. 
 
 Henceforth let all knavish attorney's take warning, 
 For old Nick is abroad every noon, night, and morn- 
 ing; 
 When the deeds of a man have been wicked and evil, 
 'Tis madness to think he can fly from the devil. 
 So from quirking and cheating let all men abstain, 
 And a good reputation always try to maintain. 
 
 THE RUSHLIGHT. 
 
 Sir Solomon Simons , when he first did wed, 
 
 Blusli'd black as a crow, his fair lady did blush light, 
 
 The clock it struck twelve, they were both tuck'd in bed. 
 In the chimney a rushlight, a little farthing rushlight. 
 
 Fal de diddle de, a little farthing rushlight. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 177 
 
 Sir Solomon gave bis lady a nudge, 
 
 And cries he, Lady Simons, there's vastly too much 
 light ; 
 Then Sir Solomon, says she, to get up you can't grudge, 
 And blow out the rushlight, the little farthing rushlight. 
 
 Fal de diddle de, &c. 
 
 Sir Solomon he then out of bed pops his toes. 
 
 And vastly he swore, and very much did curse light j 
 And then to the chimney Sir Solomon he goes. 
 
 And he puff'd at the rushlight, the little farthing rush- 
 light. 
 
 Fat de diddle de, &c- 
 
 Lady Simons then got up in her night-cap so neat, 
 vVud over the carpet my lady she brush'd light ; 
 
 And there Sir Solomon she found in a heat, 
 
 A puffing at the rushlight, then she puflTd at the rush- 
 light. 
 But neither of them both could blow out the rushlight. 
 
 Sir Solomon and lady, with their breath quite gone. 
 
 Rung the bell in a rage, they determin'd to crush light ; 
 
 Half asleep, in his shirt, then up came John, 
 
 And he puff'd at the rushlight, the little farthing rush- 
 light. 
 But neither of the three could blow out the rushlight. 
 
 Cook, coachee, men, maids, very near all in buff. 
 
 Came and swore, that in their lives, they never met 
 with such a light : 
 And each of the family, by turns had a puff 
 At the little farthing rushlight, the cursed farthing rush- 
 light. - 
 
 CSpo/c««.)— First, the old cook said, ' let me try It, wind 
 does wonders, I'll try and blow it out— pti;^.' Then Sir 
 Solomon said, ' let me try it, I'll do it, I'll warrant. — puff* 
 Then Lady Simon said, ' Sir Solomon you can't do it. 
 
178 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 please to let me try it, I'm long winded, I'll do it presently 
 -^puff, jmff.' Then says John, (yawning) 'please, hand 
 it to me, I'll blow it out ; for I see you can't do it.— 
 -puf! 
 
 But neither of the family could blow out the rushlight. 
 
 The watchman at last went by, crying — one. 
 
 Here, watchman, come up, than you we might on worse 
 
 light ; 
 
 Then up came the watchman, and the business was done, 
 
 For he turned down the rushlight, the little farthing 
 
 rushlight. 
 
 Fal de diddle de, and he put out the rushlight. 
 
 LODGINGS TO LET. 
 
 Who has e'er been in London, that overgrown place, 
 Has seen — Lodgings to Let — stare him full in the face ; 
 Some are good, and let dearly; while some, 'tis well 
 
 known, 
 Are so dear and so bad, they are best let alone. 
 
 Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and lonely, 
 Hir'd lodgings that took single gentlemen only ; 
 But Will was so fat, he appeared like a tun. 
 Or like two siugle gentlemen roU'd into one. 
 
 He enter'd his rooms, and to bed he retreated ; 
 But all the night long he felt fevered and heated 
 And though heavy to weigh as a score of fat sheep. 
 He was not, by any means, heavy to sleep. 
 
 Next night 'twas the same ; and the next ; and the next I 
 He perspir'd like an ox ; he was nervous and vext. 
 Week passed after week ; till, by weekly succession. 
 His weekly condition was past all expression. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, See. 179 
 
 In six months, his acquaintance began much to doubt 
 
 him; 
 For his skin ' like a lady's loose gown' hung about him ; 
 He sent for a doctor, and cry'd like a ninny, 
 
 * I have lost many pounds : make me well ; there's a 
 
 guinea,' 
 
 The doctor look'd wise—* A slow fever ;' he said ; 
 Prescrib'd sudorifics, and going to bed j 
 ' Sudorifics in bed (exclaimed Will) are humbugs ! 
 I've enough of them there, without paying for drugs. 
 
 Will kick'd out the doctor ; but when ill indeed. 
 E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed ; 
 So calling his host, be said, ' Sir, do you know, 
 I'm the fat single gentleman six months ago. 
 
 ' Look'e, landlord, I think, (argued Will, with a grin) 
 That with honest intentions you first took me in ; 
 But from the first night, and to say it I'm bold, 
 1 have been so damn'd hot, that I m sure I caught cold. 
 
 Quoth the landlord, ' till now I ne'er had a dispute, 
 I've let lodgings these ten years, I'm a baker to boot : 
 In airing your sheets, sir, my wife is no sloven. 
 And your bed is immediately over my oven,' 
 
 ' The oven ?' says Will ; says the host * why this passion ? 
 
 In that excellent bed died three people of fashion. 
 
 Why so crusty, good sir 1* * Zounds ' cries Will, in a 
 
 taking, 
 ' Who wouldn't be crusty with half a year's baking r' 
 
 %Vill paid for his room : cried the host with a sneer, 
 
 * Well, I see you've been going away half-a-year. 
 
 ' Friend, we can't well agree ; yet no quarrel, (Will 
 
 said) 
 But I'd rather not perish while you make your bread.' 
 
180 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 A PLAYING WE WILL GC. 
 
 Old Shakspeare told us long ago, 
 
 From infancy to age, 
 That all naankind were players. 
 
 And that the world's a stage. 
 
 And a playing we will go, will g< 
 
 Some people will in earnest play, 
 
 Wliile others play in jest : 
 Some few will play a double part, 
 
 But fair play's always best. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 A scolding wife plays hell on earth, 
 And storms, and rants, and leazes ; 
 
 But a sweet-temper'd wife will play 
 Which part her husband pleases. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 The heedless man who goes to law, 
 
 Oft plays on edged tool ; 
 For whilst the lawyer plays the knave. 
 
 His client plays the fool. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Young soldiers play the hero's part, 
 
 And talk of damn'd hard duty : 
 Old statesmen boast economy. 
 
 But all the time play booty. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 The wife will sometimes play the truant. 
 
 The husband play the scrub : 
 The scrub will play the gentleman, 
 
 And the gentleman the scrub. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Good Lord ! how some mistake their parts, 
 
 By taking that for this ; 
 For little Miss will play Mamma, 
 
 And flat Mamma play Miss — 
 
 Chorus. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 181 
 
 The prude will play the hypocrite. 
 
 The wanton the coquet : 
 Old maids will play a solo part. 
 
 Brisk widows a duet. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Her husband died some time ago, 
 
 His fortune was but small ; 
 She has been courted, but cry'd, no ! 
 
 I'll marry none at all. 
 
 Choru*. 
 
 But now, behold! she's chang'd her mind, 
 
 And sings another song : 
 ' Because it is not good 1 find. 
 
 For me to sleep alone/ 
 
 Choruji. 
 
 The fribble plays the monkey's part, 
 
 While full of roar and revel ; 
 While bucks and bloods, and jolly dogs. 
 
 Will play the very devil. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 The borrower often plays too loose, 
 
 The lender plays too light ; 
 The creditor would fain play sure. 
 
 The debtor least in sight. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 But when these trifling scenes are past. 
 
 And life's last act is o'er ; 
 Then death will let the curtain drop. 
 
 And we shall play no more. 
 
 No more playing, &c 
 
 Then who play'd cobbler, who play'd king, 
 
 Will not then be the jest ; 
 The only question that will be. 
 
 Who play'd his part the best. 
 
 No more playing, &;c. 
 
182 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 THE GENUINE GROCER. 
 
 Good folks I have set up an honest and fair house. 
 
 For genuine tea I have opened a warehouse. 
 
 With genuine cocoa, all other is poison, 
 
 And genuine bohea, and genuine hyson. 
 
 The Emperor Shong-Son, of Ko Ki, no Kansi, 
 
 Has taken to me Peter Pruin a fancy ; 
 
 Then if you are sick of balderdash brewing, 
 
 Come buy half a pound of your friend Peter Pruin, 
 
 Then Ma'am will you walk in, 
 
 And fol de rol liddle ; 
 And sir, will you stalk in. 
 
 And fol de ro) liddle ; 
 And little Miss pop in. 
 
 And fol de rol liddle ; 
 And young Master hop in. 
 
 And fol de rol liddle. 
 
 This chocolate's genuine, Peter's no joker, 
 A genuine mixture of brick-dust and ochre ; 
 This genuine sugar to pound in a caster. 
 Is hewn from a genuine stone alabaster ; 
 These genuine beans, from Newmarket courses. 
 Make genuine coffee for genuine horses ; 
 These genuine figs, that my shop is so rich in. 
 Are prettily sugar d with sand from the kitchen. 
 Then, Ma'am will you, &c. 
 
 When genuine flats shall awhile hither flock it. 
 And put me a genuine plumb in my pocket, 
 I'll drink the amendment in genuine claret. 
 And dash through the streets in my genuine chariot, 
 My genuine merit, the people will know it, 
 The bubble will burst when I no longer blow it. 
 It's then you will know, my very good folks. 
 That my genuiue tea, is a genuine hoax, 
 Then, Ma'am, will you, 6tp. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 183 
 
 PRETTY LITTLE DAMSELS HOW THEY CHAT. 
 
 Pretty little damsels how they chat, 
 
 Chit chat, &c. 
 All about their sweethearts and all that. 
 
 And chit chat, &c. 
 Up and dowa the city how the little damsels walk, i 
 And of the beaux and the fashions how the little damsels 
 
 talk, 
 And now and then a little bit of slander's no baulk. 
 
 To their chit chat, &c. 
 
 Pretty little damsels go to cheapen in the shops, 
 
 Chit chat, &c. 
 Pretty little bonnets and pretty little caps. 
 
 And chit chat, &c. 
 A little bit of rouge and a nice little fan, 
 A nice little minature of a nice little man. 
 Or any little nice thing of which they can 
 
 Chit chat, &c. 
 
 Pretty little damsels go to feast their eyes. 
 
 Chit chat, &c» 
 But the splendid Panorama cannot suffice. 
 
 Chit chat, &c. 
 And their pretty parasols to keep their pretty faces cool. 
 And their pretty little veils under which they play the 
 
 fool. 
 And upon their pretty arm the pretty little reticule. 
 
 All for chit chat, &c. 
 
 Pretty little damsels how prettily they run. 
 
 Chit chat, &c. 
 For a little bit of flatt'ry and a little bit of fun. 
 
 Chit chat, &c. 
 The pretty little nose and the pretty little chin. 
 The pretty little mouth with a pretty little grin. 
 And the pretty little tongue to keep admirers in 
 
 Chit chat, &c. 
 
 «2 
 
1«4 THEATRICAL BUD(iET. 
 
 Pretty liitle dartisels ■wheu they're Med, 
 
 Hum duni, &cc. 
 
 Their pretty little foibles all are fled, 
 
 Hum dum, &c. 
 
 Their pretty little airs so bewitcbingly wild. 
 
 Kvaporate so prettily aud leave them so mild, 
 
 Then all their tittle tattle is about their little child, 
 
 Hum, dum, &c. 
 
 MISS BAILEY. 
 
 A captain bold, in Halifax, that dwelt in country quarters. 
 Seduced a maid, who hang'd herself, one morning, in her 
 
 garters ; 
 His wicked conscience smited him : he lost his stomach 
 
 daily ; 
 He look to drinking ratifia, and thought upon Miss Bailey. 
 Oh Miss Bailey, unfortunate Miss Bailey. 
 
 One night, betimes, he went to rest, for he had caught a 
 
 fever ; 
 Says he ' I am a handsome man, but I'm a gay deceiver.' 
 His candle, just at twelve o'clock, began to burn quite 
 
 palely ; 
 A ghost stepp'd up to his bedside, and said, ' Behold 
 
 Miss Bailey.' 
 
 Oh ! Miss Bailey, &c. 
 
 * Avaunt, Miss Bailey !' then he cried, ' your face looks 
 
 white and mealy,' 
 
 * Dear Captain Smith,' the ghost replied, * you've us'd 
 
 me ungenteelly. 
 The crowner's 'quest goes hard with me, because I've 
 
 acted frailly. 
 And parson Biggs won't bury me, though I am dead Miss 
 
 Bailey.' 
 
 Oh! Miss Bailev! &c. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 185 
 
 * Dear corpse,' says he, ' since you and I accounts must 
 
 once for all close, 
 I've a one pound note in my regimental small clothes ; 
 
 * Twill bribe the sexton for your grave ;' — the ghost then 
 
 vanish'd gaily, 
 Crying, ' bless you wicked Captain Smith ! remember poor 
 Miss Bailey/ 
 
 Oh ! Miss Bailey ! &c. 
 
 EPSOM RACES. 
 
 With spirits gay I mount the box, the tits up to their 
 
 traces, 
 ]My elbows squar'd, my wrist tum'd down, dash off to 
 
 Epsom races ; 
 With Buxton bit, bridoon so trim, three cbesnuts and a 
 
 grey, 
 Well coupled up my leaders then, ya hip ! we bowl away. 
 Some push along with four in hand, while others driv» 
 
 at random. 
 In whiskey, buggy, gig, or dog-cart, curricle, or tandem 
 
 (Spoken.) — Ya! ya! ya ! hip ! go along wi' ye. I say. 
 Bill, if I hadn't turned the leader neatly over the old 
 woman, we should have dash'd neck and crop into the 
 china-shop.' * Why don't you keep on that side of the 
 road ]' * Where are you coming, Johnny Raw ?' * You be 
 d — M, who made you a coachman 1 Why didn't your ser- 
 vant take hold of the reins V * Where are you-going now? 
 Ya hip ! had all the Brighton flashmen in a long trot.— * 
 D— me that's prime'.' 
 
 Some push along, &c. 
 
 Prime of life to go it, where*s a place like London ? 
 Four-in-hand to-day, the next you may be undone : 
 Where belles as well as beaux, to get the whip*hand 
 
 strive. 
 And Mrs. Snip, the tailor's wife, can teach her spouse to 
 
 drive. 
 
 Q 3 
 
1«6 TriEATRU'AL BUDGET. 
 
 So Jackey Snip, his wife, and all, to Dobbin's back are 
 
 strapp'd on. 
 In one-horse chuij to sper J tlic day, witb neighbour Snip, at 
 
 Clapton, 
 
 (Spoken.) — ' Master Snip, I desire you'll not be wulgar 
 to-day.* * Veil, I vont, if I can help it. Here, ostler, 
 bring the horse a glass of gin and beer. — Landlord, bring 
 me a. thimble -full of brandy.' ' Who are you? Who learn'd 
 you to drivel' ' What d'ye mean by that ? I'm Richard 
 Cipher, Esq. attorney and solicitor, belonging to the 
 honourable Neck or Kothiiig, have gone through all the 
 gradations of buggy, gig, and dog-cart, tandem, curricle, 
 unicorn, and four-in-hand ; neglected nothing, dash'd at 
 every thing — pegged at a Jervey — too/'rf a mail -coach, and 
 now have attain'd the credit of being bung up.' 
 
 Some push along, &cc. 
 
 Thus 'tis with all who in London are thriving, 
 Both high life and low life at something are driring ; 
 A peer and a 'prentice now dress so much the same. 
 You cannot tell the difference except by the name : 
 On Epsom Downs, says Billy, zounds ! that cannot be 
 
 Lord Jackey, 
 Egad ! but now I see it is — I took him for his lackey. 
 
 (Spoken.) — ' Ya ! ya hip ! ya hip ! prime work — kept 
 the Bristol Mail at long-trot.'' ' AV hy, these men havn't 
 jiaid the toll.' ♦ Didn't 1 show you the ticket V ' What's 
 the number?' ' 281 ' ' Pay the man, or I'll knock your 
 chops about.' ' You've got no money.' * That's a queer 
 half-ciown, it won't do, it's a Frenchman.' ' You'd better 
 ■give us three-penn'orth of Brumjim ha'pence, than this 
 French Emperor's money.' ' That's not what 1 gave you.' 
 ' Yes it is, none of your smashing tricks here.' * Why, 
 zounds, this is a proper cross and jostle!* ' Spoonies, saw- 
 nits, come, be ofi' — thus 
 
 Some push along, &c. 
 
humor(jus songs, Sec. 187 
 
 THE PLEASURES OF BRIGHTON. 
 They raay talk of their Margates and Rarusgates, so 
 
 gay, 
 
 Aud such places some folks may delight in ; 
 Where in summer each citizen dashes away, 
 
 As long as they have time, and their money to pay. 
 But none can compare to our Brighton ! 
 
 'Tis there that our belles and our beaux always dash on, 
 For Brighton ! dear Brighton ! is always the fashion : 
 For life — Oh ! to Brighton no one place approaches — 
 'Tis true we've no Hoy — but we've plenty of coaches : 
 So come, my fair ladies, to Brighton ! 
 
 (Spoken.) — 'La, Pa! vol a delightful place Brighton 
 must be — do pray take places at the Golden Cross, in the 
 flying coach, licensed to carry sis inside, and sixteen out,' 
 * Nonsense, girl — I can't av'oord it — mind the shop.* 
 ' Well, IMr. Splitfig, there is neighbour Goosequii ha' been- 
 there wi' his v/ife and da'ter.' • There ! there is somebody 
 in the shop, — coming — coming.' 'Pray, my Lord, does the 
 Prince go to Brighton 1' ' I should think so, 'pon honor. 
 Damme, who wouldn't go.' Then order the barouch, 
 I'm oil in a tangent. 
 
 Then the Gents and the Ladies, 
 Whatever their trade is, 
 Whether single or married, 
 To Brighton are carried. 
 
 Then slipping, and whipping, and squalling and bawling, 
 Each belle aud each beaux to Brighton they go. 
 
 Oh 1 Oh ! what a place is Brighton ! 
 There full many a daonsel we see with a whip, 
 
 The donkey's back try to sit fight on ; 
 Every morning in salt water taking a dip. 
 Every night in the ball-room just taking a trip! 
 
 Oh ! these are the pleasures ot Brighton ! 
 
108 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 And then there's our race-course, each jockey frequents, 
 Where the beaux lose their money as well as their sense : 
 Where gaiety, join'd with equality, cheers, 
 Duke's jostle with dustmen, pickpockets with peers- 
 Oh ! these are the pleasures of Brighton ! 
 
 (Spoken.) — ' Oh, Lard — Mrs. Gun, I can't go in I' — 
 ' Pooh, pooh — Bet, don't keep the lady waiting — here — 
 I'll give you a shove behind — there!' 'Oh! — oh — oh! 
 I'm drow — drow — ow — ow— own'd, assure as a gun.' ' Go 
 along, naughty naked little boys — don't bathe here— don't 
 you see the ladies coming on the donkeys,' * Oh, never 
 mind the poor little innocent creatures : I likes to see them 
 in their natural state — here, young man, do give my don- 
 key a slap behind — I shall never get to the races.' ' There, 
 ma'am, now he'll go like a new one.' * Lord bless me, 
 he'll shake my inside out.' ' Hallo ! ma'am, keep your 
 neddy out of the way of my tits.' ' Here, who'll take 
 Conqueror against the fieid ?' * Tom, do you ride the 
 Duchess V ' Yes, your honour.' ' Then I'll back her.' 
 ' Hallo, there, clear the course — all weighed and mounted 
 — ring the bell — off they go ! 
 
 Then hustle and bustle, hurry and scurry. 
 Beating and cheating, swearing and tearing, 
 Poneys a running, winners a dunning. 
 Jockeys are betting, money is getting, 
 Ah I ah ! what a place is Brighton, 
 Ah ! ah ! what a place, what a wonderful place, 
 What a wonderful place is Brighton ! 
 
 THE KISS OF MY DEAR. 
 
 The sweet kiss of my dear is like musty old hay, 
 
 Fa ra la, &c. 
 She is lovely as morning, a morning that's grey. 
 
 Sing Fal la ral, &c. 
 Nature's sweet red and white in her countenance lies. 
 
 Fa ral la, &c. 
 For sh«'s white in her lips, and she's red in her eyes. 
 
 Sing fal la, 6cc« 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 18t) 
 
 Your look is just that which is majesty styled, 
 
 Fal la ra, &c. 
 So awful, it frightens man, woman, and child ; 
 
 Fal la, &:c. 
 I'll wed you in church, just to show my regard, 
 
 Fal la, &c. 
 Then lovingly bury you in the church-yard. 
 
 Fal la, &CC, 
 
 MANAGER STRUT. 
 
 Manager Strut was four feet high. 
 And look'd mighty droll when he cock'd his eye, 
 
 For he squinted just so — 
 And he waddled and he snuffled, with one arm so- 
 And t'other kimbo ; 
 
 He look'd like a tea-kettle. 
 
 But could not sing half so well ; 
 And yet in Macheath be was thought to excel. 
 ' Roses and lilies her cheeks disclose, 
 • But her ripe lips are more sweet than those,' 
 And he bad such a comical leer, O ! 
 Who was so fit for a tragedy hero 1 
 All the actors who played Rollo, 
 By Manager Strut were beaten hollow ! 
 
 O rare Manager Strut ! 
 
 What a fine actor was Manager Strut. 
 
 Now Mrs. Strut was very nigh, 
 Compar'd with IMister, twice as high ; 
 
 When on her long leg — so — 
 But in walking she hobbled a little 
 
 First on one foot — so — 
 
 Then on her little toe — 
 With unequalfd grace advancing. 
 Was not she the thing for dancing. 
 
lyO THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 And iu the lively Columbine 
 
 She was most prodigious fine ! 
 And she was no more than sixty-four : 
 
 Whene'er she sung, 
 
 The houses rung, 
 With — encore ! encore ! encore I 
 
 O rare Mrs. Strut ! 
 Billington's nothing to Mrs. Strut ! 
 
 O rare Mrs. Strut ! 
 What a sweet mate has great Manager Strut ! 
 
 Two charming babes had crown'd the loves 
 Of these two tender turtle doves; 
 The boy had just his daddy's fault — 
 
 He squinted a little ; 
 The girl had learnt her mother's halt — 
 
 She hobbled a little. 
 " And whether they spoke, or whether they sung, 
 They did it all in the Yorkshire tongue ; 
 Yet oft the play-bills did let fly, 
 That they were two young Roscii — 
 
 (Imitates two children.} 
 
 O rare family Strut ! 
 Happy, thrice happy, is Manager Strut I 
 
 O rare Manager Strut ! 
 Happy, thrice happy, is Manager Strut ! 
 
 THE LORD MAYOR'S SHOW. 
 
 Four and twenty Lord Mayor's shows all of a row, 
 Four and twenty Lord Mayor's shows all of a row, 
 
 There was a man in armour, the twelve companies, 
 sword bearer and common hunt, all in a bustle, ^vith flags, 
 banners, gowns, chains, and perriwigs, pretty girls perched 
 in the windows, and dress'd so proud, to talk so loud, 
 above the crowd, down below. ' 
 
 It was to see my Lord Mayor's show. 
 Therefore they would be merry. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 191 
 
 Four and twenty Aldermen all in a row, 
 Four and twenty Aldermen all in a row, 
 
 There was * Pray, Mr. Alderman, what time do you go 
 to the ceremony, have you got ever another ticket for the 
 ball, there'll heme and Mrs. Marrowfat, Miss Marrowfat, 
 and Master Marrowfat ; and my daughter's to dance a 
 minuet with the man in armour, &.c. 
 
 Four and twenty Serjeants all in a row, 
 Four and twenty Serjeants all in a row, 
 
 ' Make way there — that gentleman in the black gown 
 belongs to the law.' * So do I, sir : we lawyers are men 
 
 of consequence.' * Very true, but the d 1 will have you 
 
 all at last, pray Mr. Alderman,' &c. 
 
 Four and twenty pickpockets all in a row, 
 •Four and twenty pickpockets all in a row. 
 
 There they were at it with fobs, watches, and pocket- 
 books. ' Stop that man, he looks like a rogue, take care 
 of your pockets.' ^* That gentleman in the black gown,' &c. 
 
 Four and twenty Tailors all in a row. 
 Four and twenty Tailors all in a row. 
 
 And there was a stitch in time, saves nine ; nine tailors 
 make a man ; nine men may undo a tailor, and tailors are 
 obliged to work very hard at cross-stitch, back-stitch, but- 
 ton-holes, fobs, watches, and pocket-books, &c. 
 
 Four and twenty Ladies all in a rew. 
 Four and twenty Ladies all in a row. 
 
 There was * Pray Ma'am what colour'd wig do you wear 
 at the show "J' * That depends on the weather, ma'am ; as 
 my husband's in the military, perhaps I shall wear a 
 light bob.' * What do you think of a scratch?' 'Rather 
 be excused there, ma'am, I thank you, in that way you're 
 at home to a hair, besides you know, ma'am, a stitch in 
 time saves nine,' &c. 
 
192 THEATICAL BUDGET. 
 
 Four and twenty Daggerwoods all in a row, 
 Four and twenty Daggerwoods all in a row. 
 
 There was Mrs. Dorinda Daggerwood, Master Apollo 
 Daggerwood, and all the little Daggerwoods, headed by 
 Silvester Dionysius Apollo Daggerwood, of the Dun- 
 stable company, whose benefit is fixed for the 11th of 
 June, being by particular desire of several persons of 
 distinction, then the unbounded liberality of bis friends 
 will never be forgotten, while memory holds a seat in this 
 delighted brain, brilliant boxes — powerful pit — thundering 
 gallery, and then for applause, every thing went ofJ' 
 swimmingly, with ' Pray, ma'am, what colour'd wig do you 
 wear at the show?' ' Lord, ma'am, that depends on the 
 weather, as my husband's in the military, perhaps I shall 
 wear a light bob ; what do you think of a scratch ?' — 
 ' Rather be excused there, ma'am, I thank you, in that 
 way yourV. at home to a hair, besides, you know, ma*am, 
 a stitch in time saves nine — nine tailors make a man, nine 
 men may undo a tailor, and tailors are obliged to work 
 very hard at cross stitch, back stitch, button holes, fobs, 
 watches and pocket books, stop that man, he looks like a 
 rogue, take care of your pockets, that there gemman in 
 the black gown belongs to the law.' ' So do I, sir — we 
 lawyers are men of consequence.' ' Very true, but the 
 d — — 1 will have you at last/ * Pray, Mr. Alderman, 
 what time do you go to the ceremony ? have you got ever 
 another ticket for the ball 1 there'll be me and my dear 
 Mrs. Marrowfat, Miss Marrowfat, and Master Marrowfat, 
 and do you know my daughter's to dance a minuet with 
 the man in armour, the twelve companies, sv/ord bearer 
 and common hunt, all in a bustle, with flags — banners — 
 gowns — chains and perriwigs, pretty girls perched in the 
 windows, and dress'd so proud, to talk so loud, above the 
 crowd, down below. 
 
 Because it was my Lord Mayor's show. 
 Therefore let's all be merry. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 193 
 
 FISHERMEN ALL. 
 
 The world's an ocean, in which all men fish. 
 
 They catch what they can, and they keep what they 
 get: 
 The lawyer in general gets a large dish, 
 
 For every thing's fish that comes into his net. 
 
 Fishermen all, tol de rol. 
 
 The ladies all lovely from head to the heels. 
 
 Catch lovers by dozens, as children catch flies. 
 But there's no catching them, for they're slippery as 
 
 eels. 
 Whilst they angle away, and all bait with their eyes. 
 
 Fishermen all, &c. 
 
 The poet for fame and for food often scrolls. 
 The doctors all fish for a large cane and wig ; 
 
 'Tis the care of the parson, to angle for soles. 
 And he baits for a sermon, and hooks a tythe pig. 
 
 Fishermen all, &c. 
 
 The wise politician to mend matters wishes. 
 
 And, pro bono publico, ofiers his pelf ; 
 But he's only watching the loaves and the fishes. 
 
 To shove others out, and to get in himself. 
 
 Fishermen all, &c. 
 
 WHEN A MAN WEDS. 
 
 When a man weds, he must make up his mind. 
 To bad, and good luck, to mishaps of all kind ; 
 And shortly expect that the bright honey-moon, 
 Some woefol eclipse will obscure very soon. 
 
 Marry young wife, 
 
 Battle and strife, 
 Ladle'm cradle'm — sing song ; 
 
 Widow wed. 
 
 Mind your bed, 
 Hornaby, cornaby — ding dong. 
 
194 THEATRICAL BUDOET. 
 
 Wife rather old. 
 Scratch — scold, 
 Wrangle'm jangle'm— row row • 
 Lots of brats. 
 Dogs and cats, 
 Caudle'm daadle'in: — bow wow, 
 Hobblede-hoys, 
 Girls, boys. 
 Battledore, rattledore — see saw. 
 Tumble down. 
 Crack their crown, 
 Bumble'm, grumble'm— fee faw ; 
 Squaling, bawling, 
 Calling mauling, 
 Higgledy piggledy, 
 Jingle'm, tingle'm. 
 When a man weds, he must make up his mind. 
 To bad, and good luck, and mishaps of all kind ; 
 Kitchen table. 
 Tower of Babel, 
 Flour'em scour'em. 
 Puff— huff 
 Wife frying, child crying, 
 Stuffing 'em, puffing 'em, 
 Huff— puff, 
 Crash — fie, 
 'Twasu't I : 
 Greasing 'em, squeezing 'em, splish, splash. 
 Dirty dog. 
 Bottom flog. 
 Jerking 'em, working 'em, dish dash ! 
 Doctor's fee, 
 Can't agree. 
 Physic 'em tysic 'em so so— 
 Child dies. 
 
 Mother cries — Oh 1 ohl 
 Ladle^m, cradle 'm, &c. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 196 
 
 GALLOPING DREARY DUN. 
 
 A Master I have, and I am his man. 
 
 Galloping dreary dun j 
 And he'll get a wife as fast as he can, 
 
 With a hailyt gaily, 
 
 Gambo raily, 
 
 Giggling, 
 
 Niggling, 
 Galloping, galloway, draggle-tail dreary dun, 
 
 I saddled his steed, so fine and so gay. 
 
 Galloping, &c. 
 I mounted my mule, and both rode away. 
 With our haily, &c. 
 
 We canter'd along, until it grew dark. 
 Galloping, &c. 
 
 The nightingale sang instead of the lark. 
 
 With his haily, &c. 
 
 We met with a friar and ask'd him our way, 
 Galloping, &c. 
 
 • By the lord,* says the friar, * you're both gone 
 astray,' 
 
 With his haily, &c. 
 
 Our journey I fear will do us no good. 
 Galloping, &c. 
 
 We wander alone like babes in the wood. 
 
 With our haily, &c. 
 
 My master is fighting, and I'll take a peep. 
 Galloping, &c. 
 
 But now I think better, I'd better go sleep, 
 With my haily, &c. 
 
 R 2 
 
196 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 SIMON SUPPLE. 
 
 In England, they tell us, 
 A land of queer fellows, 
 
 A school-master dwelt, Simon Supple : 
 Being told that one wife 
 Would embitter his life, 
 
 Says he, then I'll marry a couple. 
 
 His speech of (eight parts) 
 Won a couple of hearts. 
 
 Though he was like me, rather tallish ; 
 And his hair, as they say, 
 W^as half black and half grey. 
 
 So his noddle was mighty pie ballish. 
 
 His wife, Mary Ann, 
 
 Tho' she lov'd her good man, 
 
 His grey hair detested, good lack ; 
 And his other wife, Bridget, 
 Was all in a fidget, 
 
 She'd such an aversion to black. 
 
 One morning in bed, 
 They propp'd up his head, 
 
 And puird off his nightcap of woollen ; 
 And then, well a day. 
 At his hair black and grey. 
 
 They both began twitching and pulling. 
 
 Oh, what against two 
 Could our schoolmaster do 1 
 
 He screwed up his eyes with a grin : 
 'Till his head was as bare 
 On the outside of hair. 
 
 As of brains it was barren within. 
 
 I think I am able. 
 
 To draw from my fable, 
 
 One moral, pray cherish it dearly ; 
 If you lead naughty lives, 
 AVith a couple of wives. 
 
 They'll both comb yoiir head most severely. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 197 
 
 THE BILL OF FARE. 
 
 Some say what cana man do, 
 'Mongst fifty one cannot please two: 
 But tell me your taste, and your price. 
 And I will suit you in a trice. 
 
 Mutton and mullet, 
 Turkey and pullet. 
 Melon and calabash, 
 Calapee and calapash, 
 German sour crout, 
 Salmon and trout. 
 Cormorant, quail. 
 Woodcock and trail. 
 Oysters and widgeon. 
 Lobsters and pigeon. 
 Soy, pannesan. 
 Ketchup, cayenne. 
 Soup, vermicelli. 
 Cabbage and jelly. 
 Syllabub, mustard. 
 Kidneys and custard. 
 Mince pie, 
 Lambs' fry. 
 Toad in a hole. 
 Flounder and sole, 
 Giblet soup, 
 Died o' the roup. 
 Bubble and squeak 
 Garlick and leek. 
 Cakes, 
 Steaks. 
 Chops, 
 Slops, 
 Snipe, 
 Tripe, 
 Ducks, 
 Plucks, 
 Eel, 
 Veal, 
 
 AS 
 
193 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 Kice, 
 S^)ice, 
 Pease, 
 Cheese, 
 Salt, Malt. 
 Ham, Lamb, 
 lloast, toast, 
 Boil, broil, 
 Bears, hares, 
 Figs, pigs. 
 Quince, 
 Mince. 
 
 Busy at cookery, as crow in a rookery. 
 Old Madam Glass, was but an ass, 
 For Mingle's the man, 
 At tossing a pan. 
 
 Some say, &.c. 
 
 TECHNICALS AT TABLE. 
 
 Four and twenty barbers sat 'em down to dine. 
 
 Knives sharp, plates hot, French bread, and napkin* 
 clean. 
 Like heads in a perfumer's shop, they look'd so smart and 
 fine. 
 Their appetites, first whetted, were like razors keen. 
 
 (Spoken.) — 'Mr. Friz, shall I help you to ahead of hair?* 
 * Are the beards taken off these oysters 1' ' Who's for a 
 pig-tail V ' Do you take trifle ?' ' Trifle, I thought it was 
 soap-suds I' 'Lather away, boys — here, waiter!' 'Shave 
 you directly, gentlemen.' 
 
 Hob nob, what's the toast ? Here's success to trade ; 
 Barber's blocks are not the only wooden heads made. 
 
 Four-and-twenty tailors sat 'em down to dine, 
 
 Bold men in buckram, vvith appetites fine drawn ; 
 
 All the preparations were ordered superfine. 
 
 Among the rest boef-skirts and famous collared brawn. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 199 
 
 (Si>oken.) — * Mr. Snip, do you take turkey ?' ' No, I 
 always prefei- goose.' ' Brother Clip, shall I help you to 
 some cauliflower ?' * No, cabbage forme.' ' This beef is 
 the real ingrain ; shall I send you a slice?' ' Let it be ell- 
 wide, then.' ' Give me a slice of that pudding — double- 
 miird drab I declare, cuts like long-cloth !' ' Yes, but 
 you'll soon make it short commons.' ' Here, waiter !' 
 
 * Sharp as a needle, gentlemen.' 
 
 Hob, nob, what's the toast ? Here's success to trade ; 
 Tailors a'n't the only folks whom cabbaging has made ! 
 
 Four-and-tw^enty shoe-makers sat 'em down to dine. 
 Strap too, peg away ; brush'd up and polish'd all ; 
 
 The cook'ry was right cordovan, and black-strap was the 
 wine, 
 And not a soul among 'em left a heel-tap e'er so small. 
 
 {^Spoken.) — ' This lamb's as hard as a lap-stone.' * You've 
 made an end of it, though.' ' I declare, this tripe's like 
 leather.' ' You've got through it at last, though.' 'Shall 
 I help you to a mealy potatoe ?' ' No, I prefer wax.' 
 
 * Neighbour Brad, what are you doing ?' * Hammering 
 away.' ' Shall I help you to a sole ?' ' Yes, and a 
 glass of brandy after it by way of upper leather.' ' Here, 
 waiter 1' ' Brisk as a bristle, gentlemen.* 
 
 Hob, nob, what's the toast 1 Here's success to trade ; 
 Fortunes are by cobbling tricks in all professions made. 
 
 Four-and-twenty tallow-chandlers sat 'em down to dine ; 
 
 Longs, shorts, middlings, of every sort and size ; 
 All cottoning together ; uo wax-lights half so fine. 
 
 Good humour lighted up appear'd in all their sparkling 
 eyes. 
 
 (Spoken.) — ' Give me some short sixes?' * I suppose you 
 mean 'sparagus.' ' I'll take a dip in the soup-vat.' 'This 
 mutton's of the right mould.' ' Mr. Wick, you look as 
 fine as a flambeau.' ' Bless us, how your wit gutters.* 
 
 * Snuff him out.' ' Here, waiter !' ' Candles in a moment, 
 gentlemen.' 
 
 Hob, hob* what's the toast ? Here's success to trade j 
 And may illuminations for vict'rv oft be made. 
 
200 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 Four- and-twenty music-masters sat 'em down to dine, 
 
 All beaux, each at dinner could first-fiddle play; 
 Their mouths all mov'd in merry time to what they might 
 s. incline, 
 
 While they run up a pretty score and piper had to pay. 
 
 (Spoken.) — Gentlemen, are you all in tune"?* 'I'm 
 sharp set.' ' Who's for a solo on a sirloin ?' * I like a duet, 
 beef and pudding/ ' Who'll take part in a glee ; I mean 
 a glass?' * O, I'll rosin with all my heart.' ' Mr. Blow- 
 pipe, do you take strawberries ?' * O, no, hoboys for me.* 
 
 * What say you, gents, to the musical glasses ?' * Why we 
 seem a little too flat.' * I'll give you a toast, " May alt 
 enemies to harmony Jinish in a common coi'd." ' Here, waiter!' 
 
 * Coming in a brace of shakes, gentlemen.' 
 
 Hob nob, what's the toast ? here's success to trade ; 
 And may all fortune's future scores in harmony be made, 
 
 Four-and-twenty dancing-masters sat 'em down to dine. 
 All cut and figur'd in ; not one inclin'd to cross ; 
 
 Each put his best foot foremost, their positions were all fine ; 
 From pig and cow they'd toe and heel, and loads of 
 caper sauce, 
 
 (^Spoken.) — * Dear me, one might dance a hornpipe on 
 this crust.' * You're so impatient, I always eat in jig 
 time.* * Cast oflf one couple of fowls there.' ' How shall 
 I cut this up ?' ' Down the middle and back again.' 
 
 * Who takes wine ?' * All, right and left.* ' Here, waiter !' 
 
 * Set to in a moment, gentlemen.' 
 
 Hob, nob, what's the toast ? Here's success to trade ; 
 How many fortunes with all ranks b}' shuffling are made 1 
 
 Four-and-twenty doctors sat 'em down to dine. 
 Pulses in unison, from hunger, tongues so, so ; 
 
 Every thing in season, from the chicken to the chine. 
 The whole Materia Medica of Messrs. Glass and Co. 
 
 (Spoken.) — ' The seasoning of this duck bites like a 
 blister, and the peas are as big as boluses.' ' How is 
 that tongue r ' Pretty fair.' ' 1 don't like the look of it.' 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 201 
 
 * Let me prescribe rhubarb pie, then.' ' Dr. Pop'em, a 
 glass of wine ?' ' No objection to a black dose, doctor/ 
 
 * Here, waiter, more wine.' * Repeat the dose imme- 
 diately, gentlemen/ 
 
 Hob, nob, what's the toast ? Here's success to trade ; 
 Fortunes are by quackery in all professions made. 
 
 FouT-and-twenty lawyers sat 'em down to dine, 
 
 liike red tales and latitats all awful in their looks ; 
 
 All busy, as in term time, the cause-list full and fine, 
 The bill of fare as long as their's, their counsellors the 
 cooks. 
 
 (SpoTien.) — * Gentlemen, you have done that haunch 
 justice.' * Then I move for a new trial.' * I move for a 
 habeas to bring that John Dory to this end of the table.' 
 
 * Brother, will you take a rule ? — bless me, I mean a 
 rump-steak.' 'Brother Brief, help me to a client'.' 
 
 * What do you mean ?' * A flat-fish, to be sure/ ' Can any 
 gentleman show cause why we shouldn't take a glass of 
 wine round ?' * Here, waiter ! move the cloth.* * Clear the 
 court in a moment, gentlemen.' 
 
 Hob, nob, what's the toast ? Here's success to trade. 
 Fortunes are by wiggery in all professions made ! 
 
 Four-and-twenty painters sat 'em down to dine. 
 In colours gay as rainbows all set to in a trice ; 
 
 The canvas fur the dinner stretch'd on't a design. 
 
 For each was a good workman, and had a palate nice. 
 
 (Spoken.) — * Brother daub, give me some turbot for a 
 first coat, and lobster sauce over it for a second.' ' I pro- 
 test these lish are perfect pictures.' * Yes, here are soals 
 done in oil, and salmon in v/ater/ ' That duck you've got 
 is in famous keeping,' * Yes, he means to keep it all to 
 himself.' * That pudding's too much in perspective.* 
 
 * Who is for a glass of red lake ?' ' Waiter ! draw some 
 wine.' ' Brush in a moment, gentlemen. 
 
 Hob, nob, what'.s the toast r Here's success to trade .; 
 7\[ay all oar battle-pieces after Wellington be made. 
 
202 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 Four-and-twenty actors sat 'em down to dine, 
 Sucli cutting and such hacking ne'er in tragedy you 
 knew ; 
 They came with comic phizzes some dress'd fancifully 
 line, 
 The singers all had op*ra hats, and all in merry cue. 
 
 (Spoken.) — * Waiter, remove the covers.' * Yes, let's 
 have a peep behind the curtain.' * Will you have some 
 of this fish?' ' O, yes, " I sigh for my beautiful maid.'* 
 ' Mr Rant, shall I give you goose?' ' No, I have enough 
 of that on the boards.' ' Has John Dory made his exit ?* 
 ' Yes, and enter John Grouse.' ' How they are fighting 
 for the poase I' * Only rehearsing the battle of bastings.* 
 'Do you take O.P. or P.S.?' ' What's that ?' 'Old 
 Port or Prime Sherry.' * Mr. Prompter, will you wet your 
 whistle with a glass of wine ?' ' Here's a bumper to your 
 benefit.' * Ring for the call-boy.' * Here, waiter ! dessert 
 and bill.' ' Fine fruit and a bill of the play, directly, gen- 
 tlemen.' 
 
 Hob, nob, what's the toast ? Here's success to trade ? 
 May all the parts in nature's drama with applause be 
 pla/d. 
 
 Four-and-twenty Poets sat 'em down to dine. 
 Rare men, spare men, all hungry as could be ; 
 
 All drest in their best clothes, though not very fine. 
 They sat 'em down in couplets, the dinner glad to see. 
 
 (Spoken.) — * Brother Fiction, this is better than feeding 
 on fancy.' ' 1 fancy it is.' * Do you never mean to take 
 that porter-pot from your mouth?' ' O, the poet says, 
 " Drink deep or taste not." ' Who'll have an L. E.G. of 
 a fowl ?' ' Mr. Pun, shall I give you a merry thought ?' 
 
 * Brother Tag'rhyme, which of the ancient poets do you 
 like best V * Chaucer at dinner time.' * Ah 1 Joe Miller.' 
 
 * Here, waiter I all the porte's out of print.' ' A second 
 edition immediately, gentlemen.' 
 
 Hob, nob, what's the toast 1 Here's success to trade ; 
 May fortunes be if not by rhyme at least by reason made. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 203 
 
 AS THE SNOW-DROP FAIR. 
 
 As the snow-drop fair was my lovely maid. 
 Her hair just like the curling endive played. 
 Oh, her fragrant breath sweet 2iS jassmine. 
 And her pearly teeth were like the kidney bean ' 
 
 Oh dear, oh ! 
 Her teeth were like the kidney bean. 
 
 Her bright sparkling eyes like daisies in bloom. 
 And her panting breast like the white mushroom ; 
 Her shape like the poplar, straight as a^r. 
 But her heart was as cold as a cucumber! 
 
 Oh dear, oh ! 
 Her heart was cold as a ctieumber. 
 
 THOMAS CLUTTERBUCK AND POLLY 
 HIGGINBOTTOM. 
 
 In Chester town a man there dwelt. 
 Not rich as Croesus, but a buck j 
 The pangs of love he clearly felt. 
 
 His name was Thomas Clutterhuck. 
 The lady he did most approve, 
 
 Most guineas gold had got them j 
 And Clutterbuck fell deep in love. 
 With Folly Higginbottom. 
 
 O, Thomas Clutterbuck ! 
 
 And O, Polly Higginbottom. 
 
 I sing the love — the smiling love. 
 
 Of Clutterbuck and Higginbottom. 
 
 A little trip he did propose : 
 
 Upon the Dee they got 'em 
 The wind blew high, he blew his nose. 
 
 And sung to Polly Higginbottom. 
 
204 THEATRICAL BLDGET. 
 
 'I'lic strain was swe^t, the stream was deep, 
 
 He tbougbt his notes had caught herj 
 But she, alas, ftll fast — asleep. 
 And then fell in the — water, 
 
 O, Polly Higgin!)Ottoui ! 
 
 She went to the bottom; 
 
 1 sing the death — the doleful death 
 
 Of pretty Polly Higginbottom. 
 
 Yet still he stretch'd his little throat, 
 
 To love be did invite her ; 
 And never miss'd her till his boat, 
 
 He thought went rather lighter. 
 But when he found that she was lost, 
 
 The summum of his wishes — 
 He boldly paid the waterman. 
 And jump'd among the fishes. 
 
 Oh, Polly Higginbottom, 
 
 He comes to the bottom ; 
 
 I sing the death — the double death 
 
 Of Clutterbuck and Higginbottom. 
 
 Round Chester stalk the river ghosts, 
 Of this young man and fair maid ; 
 
 His head looks like a salmon trout ; 
 Her tail is like a mernuiid ! 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Learn this ye constant lovers all, 
 
 Who live on England's island — 
 The way to shun a watery death. 
 Is making love on dry land ! ! 
 
 O, Polly Higginbottom, 
 
 Who lies at the bottom ! 
 
 So sing the ghosts — the water ghot^ts 
 
 Of Clutterbuck and Higginbottom. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 205 
 
 HOW TO DELIVER A LETTEIl. 
 
 In the famed town of Cadiz, 
 Liv'd the fairest of ladies, 
 
 Donna Louisa Isabella; 
 And she had a lover. 
 Who did his mind discover, 
 
 And she thonght him a charming fellow. 
 
 Now the fairest of ladies, 
 Had a father liv'd in Cadiz, 
 
 And he locked her within a high tower ; 
 And her lover coming thither. 
 He promis'd to be with her. 
 
 At a certain appointed hour. 
 
 He was there at the time. 
 And he cali'd out in ryhme. 
 
 For his heart was cousum'd to a cinder ; 
 You have nothing now to fear, 
 Since your Phillip now is here: — 
 
 Louisa pray come to the window. 
 
 The lady appears. 
 And quiets all his fears, 
 
 For his boldness she likes him the better j 
 All I want, says he, to do. 
 Is to get conveyed to you. 
 
 This very interesting letter. 
 
 SMOKERS. 
 
 There were four-and-twenty smokers all in a row, 
 Four-and-twenty smokers all in a row. 
 
 There were Sawney Silver, Jemmy Jumps, and little 
 Dickey Gossip; and there was nothing but puff — puff — 
 puff— give us another jorum to the health of our good 
 king ; here's success and prosperity attend his endeavours, 
 whether up, up, up, or down below, 
 
 s 
 
20iS THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 And may his sous* sons to the end of the chapter, 
 All coiue to be sovereigns in tui-ns. 
 
 There were four-and-twenty auctioneers all in a row, 
 Four-and-twenty auctioneers all in a row. 
 
 There was — going — going — going — nobody says more 
 for this most beautiful villa — what a heavenly residence 
 for a new married couple. — Come, Mr. Younghusband, 
 what shall I say for you?' CGruJly) * Why, my dear sir, 
 I'd give ye an offer, but you see it's surrounded with such 
 a deal of — pufF — pufi' — puff — ' * Give us another jorum. 
 Here's to our array and navy. May they long maintain 
 their superiority, as hitherto, with honour to themselves 
 and country, whether up — up — up, or down below, 
 
 For we've Jather'd the French, we've blockaded the 
 
 Yankies, 
 And now we may laugh at the Dey. 
 
 There were four-and-twenty lottery-office-keepers all in 
 
 a row, 
 Four-and-twenty lottery-office-keepers all in a row. 
 
 There were not six blanks to a prize — the blanks all 
 floating — Ey ton's fortunate office eating all the unfortu- 
 nate people's money. Going, going — going — nobody 
 
 bids more, &c. — Give us another jorum — may all their 
 blanks turn up prizes, whether up — up — up, or down 
 below. 
 
 For you'll be merry merry here. 
 And we'll be merry merry there, 
 But who can tell where we may dwell 
 To be merry another year. 
 
 Tliere were four-and-twenty bachelors all in a row, 
 Four-and-twenty bachelors all in a row. 
 
 There was — * oh, my dear (pardon me for calling you 
 dear) Miss Sliffrump, you look heavenly — let mc paint a 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 207 
 
 seraph !' * Ah, Mr. Buckram 1 hear yovi are going to be 
 married.' (languidly) ' Oh, *pon my honour, luadam, 
 {conceitedlyj but here's Sir Toby — Mr. Buckram, Sir 
 Toby. — Sir Toby, the world talks of your intended espou- 
 sal.* (SirT.) Ah, but then it's — Six blanks to a prize, 
 &c. &c. — Give us another jorum — here's a scarcity of 
 bachelors- — old maids at seventeen — a speedy reverse of 
 trade, with more billet deux and fewer hills due, whether 
 up — up — up, or down below. 
 
 May those who are single have wives to their minds. 
 And those who are married live happy. 
 
 There were four and-twenty footmen all in a row, 
 Four-and-twenty footmen all in a row. 
 
 There was rat, tat, tat tat, tat. — (^Spohen in different 
 voices.) ' Is Mr. Owen within ?' * N — O (shrilly J he's 
 out.* * Is Mrs. Owen at homer' * No, she's not.' Are 
 the little Owens in V * No, they're out.' « Well, I'll 
 come in to warm my hands, it's d — d cold.' * Sir, the 
 fire's out.' * Well, my dear, light it up with the candle.* 
 * The candle's out.' * Bless my soul, nothing to warm or 
 comfort a fellow ?' * Why don't you get married?' * Why, 
 my dear, so I would, but it's six blanks to a prize, &c. 
 &c.' Here's a jorum to the servants of our own livery, 
 whether up — up — up, or down below. 
 
 For your fellow-servant, and my fellow servant. 
 Are all on a level, are all on a level. 
 
 There were four-and-twenty shew-folks all in a row, 
 Four-and-twenty shew-folks all in a row. 
 
 (^Spoken in different voices.) — * Here is the terrible tim- 
 ber tyger — the Hottentot Idol, who devoured more men, 
 women, and children, than icotildn't stand between here 
 and Saint Paul's, although he's not alive ; he still keeps 
 growing every day.' * Here is the vonderful vonder^ the 
 Cambridge giant, lights his pipe at a second floor window, 
 and plays at leap-frog with the lamp postesses.'' * The 
 mvrdtr of Pizarro, by Mr. Richardson's comic troop of 
 S2 
 
HOH THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 ladies and (jeiif lenient far that nifjht only^ ' The Pano- 
 rama of Waterloo nlive ; there you see the ever-to-be- 
 .itijretteil dead immortal Duke of Brunswick, aud the 
 liviiKj Walt* r Scott in the rear ; only three-pence for you. 
 Sir. Cloar the steps, you boys.' * Mr. O — N at home r' 
 * IS — O, he's out.' * My name is Sylvester Dairgcerwood, 
 whose beuefit is fixed for the 11th June.' * Why don't 
 you get married V * Why, so I would, but " burnt children 
 dread the fire," and in choosing a wife it is not tjuite — 
 six blanks to a prize, &c. &c. — Give us another jorum. — 
 laidies aud gents, I hope you will do honour to this toast ; 
 — off hats — heve's ourselves — whether up— up — up, or 
 down bel'jw. 
 
 With a hey down, ho down, derry derry down. 
 All to fill up this farcical scene, O. 
 
 GAWKEY SHANKS AND MOLLY MUMPS. 
 
 PoorGawkey Shanks here born and bred, 
 
 Ri tol, &c. 
 He fell in love ears over head, 
 
 Fol de rol, &c. 
 With Molly Mumps, the sweetest maid. 
 Who such tricks aud pranks poor Gawkey play'd, 
 That he, poor soul, went craz'd 'tis said, 
 
 Fol de rol, &c. 
 
 She with another went to church, 
 
 Ri tol, &c. 
 
 And left poor Gawkey in the lurch, 
 
 fol de rol, &c. 
 
 He for a soldier straightway went, 
 
 On blood and murder fully bent. 
 
 All for to hide hii^ disicontent, 
 
 Fol de rol, &c. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 201) 
 
 When to the battle he did go, 
 
 Ri tol, &c. 
 The balls flew thick, the guns roar'd so, 
 
 Fol de lol, &c. 
 Poor Gawkey fought with might and main. 
 But soon was number'd with the slain. 
 For a bullet whipp'd his head off" clean, 
 
 Fol de rol, &c. 
 
 One night when dreadful storms did roar, 
 
 Ri tol, &c. 
 And Mog beside her spouse did snore, 
 
 Fol de rol. 
 A hideous noise assail'd her ears, 
 When starting up, top full of fears, 
 A sight before her eyes appears, 
 
 A terrible sort of a — Fol de rol, &c. 
 
 Poor Gawkey stood beside her bed, 
 
 Ri tol, &c. 
 
 And in his hand he held his head, 
 
 Fol de rol, &c. 
 
 Behold ! he cried, thou wicked one, 
 
 See what thy par jury has done ; 
 
 Repent, for now thy glass is run, 
 
 Fol de rol, &c. 
 
 Grim Gawkey seiz'd her by the hair, 
 
 Ri tol, &c. 
 
 She look'd dismay, he grinn'd despair, 
 
 Fol de rol, &c. 
 
 But a dunghill laying by the way. 
 
 He was forc'd to drop her as they say 
 
 Where she was found quite dead next day. 
 
 Fol de rol. 
 
 S3 
 
210 THEATRICAL BUDGET. 
 
 TONEY THICKHEAD'S RAMBLE. 
 
 Tune. — Gee ho, Dobbin. 
 
 My name's Toney Thickhead, fra* York I'ze coiue down. 
 For I'm told there he uamesakes of mine iu this town ; 
 So in want of a wife, sirs, I came here to see 
 For some damsel with wisdom enough to wed me. 
 
 Oh, this Lunnun, 
 
 Wonderful Lunnun, 
 This Lunnuu egad is a wonderful place. 
 
 Now the folks in this Lunnun are deep as can be, 
 And they thought to practise all theii- deepness on me; 
 But says 1, I he'ze Yorkshire although you may'nt see't. 
 And if you cheats I, there's but one more to cheat — 
 
 Oh this LuDQun. 
 
 A wounded great swell, booted up to the throat. 
 Came to me t'other day, wanted change for a note, 
 When I gave him a Yorkshire one bad as could be. 
 But a thousand times worse than the one he gave me. 
 
 Oh this Lunnun. 
 
 He scarcely had gone when a sailor and Jew, 
 Came up with a watch which they warranted true. 
 They press'd me to buy it, 1 th«)ught tbe joke rum, 
 And says I Mr. York, you shall bite them by gum — 
 
 Oh this Lunnun. 
 
 Thirty shillings they askM, still declaring it sound, 
 Says 1, that wont do, 1 will give you a pound •, 
 They snapp'd at the note, it was forg'd it is true, 
 While 1 snapped at the watch and bit sailor and Jew-r- 
 
 Oh this Lunun. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, &C. 211 
 
 Now ill Lunnun the doctors seem up to a trick, 
 
 And the folks must have thought I look'd devilish sick; 
 
 For from Whitechapel church, sirs, all down to the 
 
 Strand, 
 They did nought but poke doctor's bills into my hand. 
 
 Oh this Lunnun. 
 
 Then a lady dress'd dapper and gay I declare. 
 Came up and ax'd me to kiss her if 1 dare ; 
 Lord I felt such a twitter, knew not what to think. 
 For I'm dang'd but she ax'd me for sumraat to drink. 
 
 Oh this Lunnun. 
 
 T'other day too a gentleman dress'd nation fine, 
 Ax'd me if I'd go to a cookshop and dine ; 
 I did — he went out, and I ne'er saw him more. 
 For he left me, and I had to settle his score. 
 
 Oh this Lunimn. 
 
 Then I went as a footman, but that didn't do. 
 For if I raised three dishes I always broke two ; 
 But poor I was discharged, and sent out of the trade. 
 Through a little affair betwixt I and the maid. 
 
 Oh this Lunnun. 
 
 Now you'll not be surpris'd when I tells you as how, 
 I will go back to Yorkshire, to pigs and to cows. 
 And I'll ne'er come to Lunnun — I'm hang'd if I do. 
 Unless for the pleasure of singing to you. 
 
 Oh this Lunnun. 
 
212 THEATRICAL BirDCiKT. 
 
 THE CHAPTER OF BLUSHES. 
 
 Ti'NE.— The Chapter of Kingt. 
 
 How various the blushcB that tint the cheek! 
 Some M'eakuess, some shame, and some modesty speak ; 
 Aud the cheek that a blush can never reveal, 
 Shews the head can't think, or the heart can't feel. 
 So exceptions all granted, 
 
 ■/[«;{. By genVal wanted, 
 
 We all of us blush in our turn. 
 
 English, Welch, Scotch, and Irish, tho* varied in name, 
 
 In essence are one, and all blush the same; 
 
 The blush it is red, and that's valour's hue, 
 
 And they make all their foes blush Mack and blue. 
 
 That lawyers don't blush, sonic assert so big. 
 But sometimes you can't sec the blush for the tviff ; 
 If doctor's dont blush', it's a wonder to me, 
 They're so monstrously modtsi in taking their fee. 
 
 The blush of an actor is rouffe and rose pink; 
 Authors blush black and vhite in their paper and ink j 
 The blush of a critic I never could mark, 
 For they, like monopoHsfs, deal in the dark. 
 
 Some great folks with their " blushing lionours" some 
 
 stake. 
 Seldom blush — but that's cavilling for cavil's sake j 
 If ih»y do not blush, they on *' iheir fionour^' claim, 
 So their honours blush for 'em, and that's all the same. 
 
 I 
 
 JNIay the maiden's blush ever from modesty flow, ^ 
 
 The blush of the wife prove affection's glow ; M 
 
 INIay wealth never blush to own friends downcast, '/ 
 JN'or we e'er hare reasou to blush for the past. 
 
HUMOROUS SONGS, tVc. 213 
 
 A BUDGET OF JESTS. 
 
 Since jesting's quite common among great and small, 
 A song on that subject I'll sing to you all ! 
 Though some may be false and some of 'em true, 
 I suppose if they're droll its no matter to you. ^ 
 
 Toldelol. 
 
 At a tavern, a doctor was once heard to say, 
 I have three fine daughters all charming and gay ; 
 And when married, for each ten thousand's their due, 
 Cried a Pat, with your lave, by ray soul I'll take two. 
 
 Tol de lol. 
 
 Once a Paddy was ask'd, by a son of his mother, 
 Which was the oldest — he or his brother 1 
 I'm oldest, cried Pat, yet still I presage. 
 If we live a year longer we'll be both of an age. 
 
 Tol de lol. 
 
 At an auction one day, a Pat stood at his ease. 
 When he cried. Auctioneer, may I bid what I please ; 
 Of course ! replied he, come, sir, bid away. 
 Then, cried Pat, bowing low, I bid you a good day. 
 
 Tol de lol. 
 
 At Tyburn one morning, for forg'ry was hung, 
 A young man whose rog'ry had but a short run ; 
 Cried a Paddy just by, who was shock'd at the sight, 
 Arrah ! honey, this comes of laming to write. 
 
 Toldelol. 
 
 Now I think that it's time my jesting should end. 
 Though the truth is at present no more than I've penn'd 
 And (/"you are pleas'd with the ditty I've sung, 
 1 txpect your applause — but ifnoty hold your tongue. 
 
 Tol de lol. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 MAIL COACH. 
 
 lutroduction .... 
 
 Address and coiniueiicement of Adventures 
 
 Song. — Mail Coach 
 
 Mail Coach conversation 
 
 Song. — I'm Simon Bore just come from college 
 
 The Historical Butcher . , 
 
 Daniel versus Dishclout 
 
 Song. — There were Four-and-twenty visitors 
 
 'i'he Quack Doctor .... 
 
 The Swiss Captain .... 
 
 Song. — The Nightingale Club in a village was held 
 
 Mr. Jeremy Stitchclose the Theatrical Tailor 
 
 Theatrical correspondence , . , 
 
 j\.ssemblage at an Inn 
 
 Song. — Full half the town o*er, &c. 
 
 A Dream ! or the Shiftes . ... 
 
 Dissertation on the Law 
 
 Song. — Three Physicians of Londou for Yorkshire 
 
 set out .... 
 Cross Reading .... 
 
 Song. — A Cobbler there was and he lived in a stall 
 Countryman's family anecdote 
 Recitation and Song. — Richard and Betty of Hickle 
 
 ton Fair .... 
 Song.— Come bustle neighbour Prig 
 Farewell Address. . , . 
 
 .5 
 7 
 16 
 18 
 21 
 23 
 24 
 27 
 29 
 31 
 34 
 36 
 38 
 40 
 41 
 42 
 45 
 
 49 
 52 
 53 
 56 
 
 .57 
 59 
 61 
 
 TRIP TO PARIS. 
 
 Introduction . . , . .IS." 
 
 Reasons for quitting London . . .65 
 
 Conversation with Mrs. Dory . . .64 
 Song. — Standing one summer day on the Tower slip 65 
 
 Danger of being too bashful . . .68 
 
 Song. — Where shall we go for the season . .71 
 
 The intellieent waterman . . .75 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Song. — Come don't be so silly 
 
 Reflections, anecdotes, and observations 
 
 Trip to Dover, &c. . ^ . 
 
 Song. — Who's for Calais 
 
 Arrival in France — French travelling, &c. 
 
 Story of Mr. Rogers and Monsieur Denise 
 
 Song. — Now we're all met together 
 
 Recitation. — The Frenchman and the rats 
 
 Maufice's Hotel, and Larry O'Vocative 
 
 Visit to the Garden of the fhuilleries 
 
 Lecture on Craniology 
 
 Visit to the Catacombs 
 
 Story of the Old Scotchwoman 
 
 Song. — Of a play-house, &cc. I'll sing 
 
 215 
 
 76 
 
 77 
 
 81 
 
 82 
 
 85 
 
 87 
 
 89 
 
 92 
 
 94 
 
 95 
 
 98 
 
 100 
 
 lOQ 
 
 10% 
 
 AIR, EARTH, AND WATER. 
 
 Reasons for wishing to rise in the world . , loy 
 Song. — I once did trot, but now do not . . 108 
 Account of Mr. Guthn and his daughter . .110 
 Song. — Once a breakfast at most . . .Ill 
 Curious Epitaphs . . . , .115 
 Major Longbow and Monsieur Arc-en-ciel . . HT' 
 Odd Stories. — ** 'Pon my life its true !" . . ng 
 Cockney Sportsmen .... I2i 
 Song. — Come listen Neighbours all ; . 124 
 Mr. and Mrs. Capsicum at Margate . , 126 
 Song, — In Margate there's ne'er a toy-shop, &c. . 128 
 Margate, a place of seclusion. — Fashionable dis- 
 tinctions ..... 132 
 Muggins ; or four eyes .... 135 
 More Epitaphs . • . . . 137 
 A curious Attorney's bill .... 139 
 Irish method of beating a carpet, Mr. Daniel O'Rourke 140 
 The Stage — old and new school, and G. A. Stevens 143 
 Remarkable instance of short memory . . 145 
 The musical Butcher .... 146 
 Anecdote of Mossop and Garrick, and conclusion . 141 
 
2i6 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 HUMOROUS SONGS. 
 
 The Mill. (Anglice) a Fight 
 
 Knowing Jerry 
 
 Caleb Quotem 
 
 The Tortoise-shell Tom Cat 
 
 Nong tong paw 
 
 Such a beauty I did grow 
 
 Beggars and ballad-smgers 
 
 Shakspeare's Seven Ages. 
 
 Doctor Last 
 
 The Lawyer 
 
 The Rushlight 
 
 Lodgings to let 
 
 A playing we will go 
 
 The Genuine Grocer 
 
 Pretty little damsels how they chat 
 
 Miss Bailey 
 
 Epsom Races 
 
 The Pleasures of Brighton 
 
 The kiss of my dear 
 
 Manager Strut 
 
 The Lord Mayor's Show 
 
 Fishermen all 
 
 When a man weds 
 
 Galloping dreary dun 
 
 Simon Supple 
 
 The Bill of Fare 
 
 Technicals at Table 
 
 As the Snow-drop fair 
 
 Thomas Clutterbuck and Polly Higginbotlom 
 
 How to deliver a letter 
 
 Gawky Shanks and Molly Mumps 
 
 Tony Thickhead's rambles 
 
 The Chapter of Blushes 
 
 A Budget of Jests 
 
 15.1 
 159 
 161 
 162 
 164 
 166 
 168 
 171 
 174 
 176 
 176 
 178 
 180 
 182 
 183 
 184 
 185 
 187 
 188 
 189 
 190 
 193 
 193 
 195 
 196 
 197 
 198 
 203 
 203 
 205 
 208 
 210 
 212 
 213 
 
 Sok 
 Th^~ 
 
 THE END. 
 
 printed by Hodgion and Co. 10, Newgate Street. 
 
<^03asssi77 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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