_For the Table Book._
Characters--Mr. Greenfat, Mrs. Greenfat, Masters Peter and Humphrey
Greenfat, Misses Theodosia and Arabella Greenfat, and Mr. John
Eelskin.
_Seen dispersedly in various parts of the gardens._
_Master Peter._ Oh my! what a sweet place! Why, the lamps are thicker
than the pears in our garden, at Walworth: what a load of oil they must
burn!
_Miss Arabella._ Mamma, is that the lady mayoress, with the _ostridge_
feathers, and the pink satin gown?
_Mrs. Greenfat._ No, my love; that’s Miss Biddy Wilkins, of Gutter-lane!
(_To a waiter._) You rude fellow, you’ve trod on my dress, and your
nasty foot has torn off one of my flounces.
_Miss Theodosia._ John, (_to Mr. Eelskin_,) how very pretty that
hilluminated walk looks. Dear me! do you see the fountain? How vastly
reviving this hot weather, isn’t it?
_Mr. Eelskin._ Ah, my beloved Theodosia! how should I notice the
beauties of the scene in your company--when your eyes are brighter than
the lamps, and your voice is sweeter than the music? In vain the
fiddlers fiddle, and the singers sing, I can hear nothing--listen to
nothing--but my adorable Theodosia!
_Master Humphrey._ La, papa, what’s that funny round place, with flags
on the top, and ballad women and men with cocked hats inside?
_Mr. Greenfat._ That’s the _Hawkestraw_.
_Mrs. Greenfat._ Hush, my dear; it’s vulgar to talk loud. Dosee, my
love, don’t hang so on Mr. John’s arm, you’ll quite fatigue him. That’s
Miss Tunstall--Miss Tunstall’s going to sing. Now, my pretty Peter,
don’t talk so fast.
_Miss Arabella._ Does that lady sing in French, mamma?
_Mrs. Greenfat._ No, child, it’s a _senthemental_ air, and they never
have no meaning?
_Miss Theodosia._ That’s the _overthure_ to _Friedshots_; Eelskin, do
you like it?
_Mr. Eelskin._ On your _piano_ I should. But shall I take you out of
this glare of light? Would you choose a ramble in the dark walk, and a
peep at the puppet-show-cosmoramas?
_Mr. Greenfat._ I hates this squalling. (_Bell rings._) What’s that for?
_Mr. Eelskin._ That’s for the _fant-toe-sheeni_, and the balancing man.
_Mr. Greenfat._ Well then, let’s go and look at Mr. Fant-toe-sheeni.
_Mrs. Greenfat._ Oh, goodness, how I’m squeedged. Pray don’t push so,
sir--I’m astonished at your rudeness, mam! You’ve trod on my corn, and
lamed me for the evening!
_Mr. Greenfat._ Sir, how dare you suffer your wife to tread on my wife’s
toes?
_Master Peter._ My stars, sister, he’s got a _bagginette_ on his nose!
_Mrs. Greenfat._ Mr. John, will you put little Humphy on your shoulder,
and show him the _fant-oh-see-ne_?
_Master Humphrey._ I can see now, mamma; there’s Punch and Judy, mamma!
Oh, my! how well they do dance!
_Mr. Greenfat._ I can see this in the streets for nothing.
_Mrs. Greenfat._ Yes, Mr. Greenfat, but not in such good company!
_Mr. Eelskin._ This, my beautiful Theodosia, is the musical temple; it’s
very elegant--only it never plays. Them paintings on the walls were
painted by Mungo Parke and Hingo Jones; the _archatechture_ of this room
is considered very fine!
_Master Peter._ Oh, I’m so hot. (_Bell rings._)
_Mr. Eelskin._ That’s for the _hyder-hawlics_. We’d better go into the
gallery, and then the ladies won’t be in the crowd.
_Mr. Greenfat._ Come along then; we want to go into the gallery. A
shilling a-piece, indeed! I wonder at your impudence! Why, we paid three
and sixpence a head at the door.
_Mr. Eelskin._ Admission to the gallery is _hextra_.
_Mr. Greenfat._ Downright robbery!--I won’t pay a farthing more.
_Miss Arabella._ See, mamma, water and fire at once!--how droll!
_Mrs. Greenfat._ Pray be kind enough to take off your hat, sir; my
little boy can’t see a bit. Humphy, my dear, hold fast by the railing,
and then you won’t lose your place. Oh, Mr. John, how very close and
sultry it is!
_Mr. Greenfat._ What outlandish hussey’s that, eh, John?
_Mr. Eelskin._ That’s the female juggler, sir.
_Miss Theodosia._ Are those real knives, do you think, John?
_Mr. Eelskin._ Oh, no doubt of it; only the edges are blunt to prevent
mischief. Who’s this wild-looking man? Oh, this is the male juggler: and
now we shall have a duet of juggling!
_Mrs. Greenfat._ Can you see, Peter?--Bella, my love, can you see? Mr.
John, do you take care of Dosee? Well, I _purtest_ I never saw any thing
half so wonderful: did you, Mr. Greenfat?
_Mr. Greenfat._ Never: I wonder when it will be over?
_Mr. Eelskin._ We’d better not go away; the ballet will begin presently,
and I’m sure you’ll like the dancing, Miss, for, excepting the
_Westrisis_, and your own sweet self, I never saw better dancing.
_Miss Theodosia._ Yes, I loves dancing; and at the last Cripplegate
ball, the master of the ceremonies paid me several compliments.
_Miss Arabella._ Why do all the dancers wear plaids, mamma?
_Mrs. Greenfat._ Because it’s a cool dress, dear.
_Mr. Greenfat._ Well, if a girl of mine whisked her petticoats about in
that manner, I’d have her horsewhipped.
_Mr. Eelskin._ Now we’ll take a stroll till the concert begins again.
This is the marine cave--very natural to look at, Miss, but nothing but
paint and canvass, I assure you. This is the _rewolving_ evening war for
the present; after the fire-works, it still change into his majesty,
King George. Yonder’s the hermit and his cat.
_Master Peter._ Mamma, does that old man always sit there?
_Mrs. Greenfat._ I’m sure I don’t know, child; does he, Mr. Eelskin?
_Mr. Greenfat._ Nonsense--it’s all gammon!
_Mr. Eelskin._ This way, my angel; the concert has recommenced.
_Miss Theodosia._ Oh, that’s Charles Taylor; I likes his singing; he’s
such a merry fellow: do _hancore_ him, John.
_Mrs. Greenfat._ Dosee, my dear, you’re too bold; it was a very
_impurent_ song: I declare I’m quite ashamed of you!
_Mr. Greenfat._ Never mince matters; always speak your mind, girl.
_Mr. Eelskin._ The fire-works come next. Suppose we get nearer the
Moorish tower, and look for good places, as Mr. G. dislikes paying for
the gallery. Now you’ll not be _afeard_; there’ll not be the least
danger, depend.
_Mrs. Greenfat._ Is there much smoke, Mr. John?--Do they fire many
cannons?--I hates cannons--and smoke makes me cough. (_Bell rings._)
Run, run, my dears--Humphy, Peter, Bella, run! Mr. Greenfat, run, or we
shall be too late! Eelskin and Dosee are a mile afore us! What’s that
_red light_? Oh, we shall all be burnt! What noise is that?--Oh, it’s
the bomb in the Park!--We shall all be burnt!
_Mr. Greenfat._ Nonsense, woman, don’t frighten the children!
_Miss Theodosia._ Now you’re sure the rockets won’t fall on my new pink
bonnet, nor the smoke soil my _French_ white dress, nor the smell of the
powder frighten me into fits?--Now you’re quite sure of it, John?
_Mr. Eelskin._ Quite sure, my charmer: I have stood here repeatedly, and
never had a hair of my head hurt. See, Blackmore is on the rope; there
he goes up--up--up!--Isn’t it pretty, Miss?
_Miss Theodosia._ Oh, delightful!--Does he never break his neck?
_Mr. Eelskin._ Never--it’s insured! Now he descends. How they shoot the
maroons at him! Don’t be afeard, lovee, they sha’n’t hurt you. See,
Miss, how gracefully he bows to you.--Isn’t it terrific?
_Miss Theodosia._ Is this _all_?--I thought it would last for an hour,
at least. John, I’m so hungry; I hope papa means to have supper?
_Master Peter._ Mamma, I’m so hungry.
_Master Humphrey._ Papa, I’m so dry.
_Miss Arabella._ Mamma, I want somewhat to eat.
_Mrs. Greenfat._ Greenfat, my dear, we must have some refreshments.
_Mr. Greenfat._ _Refreshments!_ where will you get them? All the boxes
are full.--Oh, here’s one. Waiter! what, the devil, call this a dish of
beef?--It don’t weigh three ounces! Bring half a gallon of stout, and
plenty of bread. Can’t we have some water for the children?
_Mr. Eelskin._ Shouldn’t we have a little _wine_, sir?--it’s more
genteeler.
_Mr. Greenfat._ Wine, Eelskin, wine!--Bad sherry at six shillings a
bottle!--Couldn’t reconcile it to my conscience.--We’ll stick to the
stout.
_Mrs. Greenfat._ Eat, my loves.--Some more bread for Bella.--There’s a
bit of fat for you, Peter.--Humphy, you shall have my crust.--Pass the
stout to Dosee, Mr. John.--Don’t drink it _all_, my dear!
_Mr. Greenfat._ Past two o’clock!--Shameful!--Waiter, bring the bill.
Twelve shillings and eightpence--abominable!--Charge a shilling a pot
for stout--monstrous! Well, no matter; we’ll walk home. Come along.
_Master Peter._ Mamma, I’m so tired.
_Miss Arabella._ Mamma, my legs ache so.
_Master Humphrey._ Papa, I wish you’d carry me.
_Mr. Greenfat._ Come along--it will be five o’clock before we get home!
[_Exeunt omnes._