Act 3.

Life amongst the Fancy!

Tom Crib England’s well-known Champion Mr. G. CARTER

Swell Coves, Millers, &c., &c.

Tom and Jerry in a new phase--true admirers of English pluck--a Toast,

“Long Life to Gallant Tom Crib.”

A STREET.

Tim O’Boozle Mr. J. BAKER

Mrs. Tartar Miss ANNETTE VINCENT

“Past Twelve o’clock and a Cloudy Night”--The Bucks revel--Mrs. Tartar

in a fix--Help! Help! Help!

TEMPLE BAR BY NIGHT!

Teddy McLush an Irish Watchman Mr. J. BRADSHAW

Mr. Tartar Constable of the Night Mr. M. ROBERTS

A Row--a rally, and a Rescue--how to box a Watchman--Tom and Jerry get

the best of a Charley--Tom and Jerry in trouble after a spree.

INTERIOR OF ST. DUNSTAN’S WATCHHOUSE.

BACK SLUMS IN THE HOLY LAND.

Mr. Jenkins King of the Cadgers, with a flash Medley Mr. J. BRADSHAW

Billy Waters a well-known character Mr. F. MITCHELL

Little Jemmy a cripple Mr. WEST

Creeping Jack a beggar Mr. SMALLALMS

Ragged Dick a fly one Mr. SHREDS

Dingey Bet Miss NABEM

Soldier Suke Miss LIST

Landlord of the Drum Mr. CHALK

Kate, Sue and Jane in new characters--Tom, Jerry and Logic up to their

larks--the Thieves’ Supper (without cant)--the raid upon the

Sanctuary--a terrific mill--Tom and Jerry in their glory--TABLEAU.

LEICESTER SQUARE.

Real Old Grimaldi Comic Scene.

Clown, Mr. R. H. KITCHEN Pantaloon, Mr. TOM LAMB

Here! Hollo! Now for Fun.

VAUXHALL GARDENS

☞ Magnificently Illuminated for a Fete. ☜

The Recognition--all happy--the Lovers united--grand gallop--end of

Tom and Jerry’s Life in London.

Brilliant Shower of Fire by Professor Wells.

GRAND DENOUEMENT!

In consequence of the great success of the revival of TOM and JERRY at

the VICTORIA THEATRE--where it ran nine weeks: Mr. Conquest, of the

GRECIAN, and Mrs. Lane, of the BRITANNIA THEATRE, directly afterwards

produced a version of the same. A year or two after that Mr. William

Holland, of the SURREY THEATRE, assisted by Mr. J. A. Cave, also

staged it successfully.

In May, 1886, Mr. J. A. Cave re-produced the same at The Elephant and

Castle Theatre, which was set forth thus:--

ELEPHANT & CASTLE THEATRE, S.E.

GRAND THEATRE.

LESSEE AND MANAGER MR. J. A. CAVE.

_Trains, Trams and Buses From all Parts Stop at the Doors._

TOM AND JERRY A BIG SUCCESS;

GRAND REVIVAL OF LIFE IN LONDON 100 YEARS AGO.

Cruikshank’s far-famed Pictures Realised.--Manners and Customs of the

Period.--Old Haunts of London. Life in the East. Life in the

West.--Larks by Day.--Sprees by Night. Betting Cribs.--Sparring

Cribs.--All the Noted Characters in Costumes of the time.--The most

Novel, Picturesque, and Amusing Entertainment in London. See DAILY

TELEGRAPH, GLOBE, MORNING POST, SPORTING LIFE, DISPATCH, LLOYDS, &c.

POWERFUL CAST. ALL THE ORIGINAL SENSATIONAL EFFECTS

_Early Pass Doors open Nightly at 6.30._

SATURDAY, MAY 29TH, 1886, AND NIGHTLY AT 7

TOM AND JERRY;

OR,

LIFE IN LONDON.

ALL THE ORIGINAL MUSIC, SONGS, DUETS, CHORUSES, AND DANCES.

PRODUCED FROM THE ORIGINAL ADELPHI MANUSCRIPT, BY MR. J. A. CAVE.

THE SCENES OF OLD LONDON, &C., BY MR. HEDLEY CHURCHWARD.

To conclude with, for the first time here, an Original Domestic Drama,

of intense interest, entitled THE

WREN BOYS;

OR, THE NIGHT BIRDS OF KERRY.

Introducing the entire Company.

STAGE MANAGER, Mr. George Skinner.

MUSICAL DIRECTOR, Mr. Henri G. French.

Williams & Strahan, Printers, 74, New Cut, Lambeth.

[Illustration]

JESTERS AND PAINTED SCENERY.

Messrs. Hodson, Smart, West, Marks, Fairburn, Park, Skelt, and other

publishers made a rich harvest out of the--“Price 1d. Plain and 2d.

Coloured Characters of TOM AND JERRY; or, Life in London,” together

with miniature stages, and “BOOK OF THE WORDS” for the juvenile

home-performing version of the drama.

How delightful the book, and the pictures!

--oh! the pictures are noble still!--was to the youths of England, and how

eagerly all its promised feasts of pleasure were devoured by them,

Thackeray has told us in his Roundabout Paper, “DE JUVENTURE” in the

_Cornhill Magazine_ for October, 1860.

[Illustration: THE TRUE HISTORY OF TOM & JERRY: OR, _The Day and Night

Scenes_ OF LIFE IN LONDON, BY PIERCE EGAN.]

[Illustration]

Eye Nature’s walk, shoot folly as it flies,

And catch the manners living as they rise.

A man is thirty years old before he has any settled thoughts of his

Fortune: and if it is not completed before fifty; he falls a building in

his old age, and dies by that time his House is in a condition to be

painted and glazed.

HISTORY OF THE

LIFE IN LONDON;

OR, THE

DAY AND NIGHT SCENES

OF TOM AND JERRY.

“Of Life in London, Tom, Jerry and Logic I sing.”

To the Strand then I toddled--the mob was great--

My watch I found gone--pockets undone:

I fretted at first, and rail’d against fate,

For I paid well to see “LIFE IN LONDON.”

In the early part of the year 1820, the British public were informed

through the then existing usual advertising mediums that there was about

to be published, in monthly parts, “PIERCE EGAN’S LIFE IN LONDON; or, the

Day and Night Scenes of Jerry Hawthorn, Esq.; and his elegant friend

Corinthian Tom, accompanied by Bob Logic, the Oxonian, in their Rambles

and Sprees through the Metropolis. Embellished with thirty-six Scenes from

Real Life, designed and etched by I. R. and G. Cruikshank, and enriched

with numerous original Designs on Wood by the same Artists.”

Some time previous to its appearance a great taste had exhibited itself

amongst fashionable bloods for sporting works--books upon the chase, upon

racing, upon boxing, and ‘sport’ generally. The demand soon brought an

excellent supply, and “BOXIANA,” in its own peculiar department, at once

became a great favourite. Artists, too, arose, who devoted all their

powers to hunting subjects, to racing favourites, and pugilistic

encounters. Amongst these the names of Alkén, Dighton, Heath, Brooke,

Rowlandson, &c., became very popular. One day it occurred to the editor of

‘Boxiana’ that if Londoners were so anxious for books about country and

out-of-door sports, why should not Provincials and even Cockneys

themselves be equally anxious to know something of “Life in London?” The

editor of ‘Boxiana’ was Mr. Pierce Egan, who as the literary

representative of sport and high life, had already been introduced to

George IV., the character of the proposed work was mentioned to the King

and his Gracious Majesty seems to have heartily approved of it, for he at

once gave permission for it to be dedicated to himself. The services of

Messrs. George and Robert Cruikshank were secured as illustrators.

And on the 15th July, the first number, price one shilling, was published

by Messrs. Sherwood, Neely, and Jones, of Paternoster Row. This sample, or

first instalment, of the entire work was quite enough for society to

judge by. It took both town and country by storm. It was found to be the

exact thing in literature that the readers of those days wanted. Edition

after edition was called for--and supplied, as fast as the illustrations

could be got away from the small army of women and children who were

colouring them. With the appearance of numbers two and three, the demand

increased, and a revolution in our literature, in our drama, and even in

our nomenclature began to develope itself. All the announcements from

Paternoster Row were of books, great and small, depicting life in London;

dramatists at once turned their attention to the same subject, and

tailors, bootmakers, and hatters, recommended nothing but Corinthian

shapes, and Tom and Jerry patterns.[29]

Immediately Messrs. Sherwood and Co. issued the first shilling number of

Mr. Pierce Egan’s work, out came Jones and Co., of Finsbury Square, with

the following in sixpenny numbers:--

REAL LIFE IN LONDON;

or, The Rambles and Adventures of BOB TALLYHO, Esq., and his Cousin, the

Hon. TOM DASHALL, through the Metropolis. Exhibiting a Living Picture of

Fashionable Characters, Manners, Amusements in High and Low Life, by an

Amateur. Embellished and Illustrated with a Series of Coloured Prints,

Designed and Engraved by Messrs. Heath, Alkén, Dighton, Rowlandson, &c.

As may be readily conceived, the stage soon claimed “Tom and Jerry.” The

first drama founded upon the work was from the pen of Mr. Barrymore, and

thus announced in the bill:--“ROYAL AMPHITHEATRE. Extraordinary Novelty

and Eccentric Production. Monday, September 17, 1821, at half-past six

o’clock precisely, will be presented, never acted, an entirely New,

Whimsical, Local, Melo-Dramatic, Pantomimical Drama, with new scenery,

dresses, and mechanical changes, founded on Pierce Egan’s popular work,

which has lately engrossed the attention of all London, called ‘LIFE IN

LONDON;’ or, Day and Night Scenes of Tom and Jerry, in their Rambles and

Sprees through the Metropolis.” The piece prepared for stage

representation by Mr. W. Barrymore.[30]

“Corinthian Tom, Mr. Gomersal; Jerry Hawthorn, Mr. Jones; and Bob Logic,

Mr. Herring.”

The second dramatic version was written for the Olympic Theatre, by

Charles Dibden, and thus set forth in the bill:--“OLYMPIC THEATRE. On

Monday, November 12, 1821, and following evenings, will be presented a New

Extravaganza of Fun, founded on Pierce Egan’s highly popular work, and

interspersed with a variety of Airs and Graces, called “LIFE IN LONDON.”

“TOM (a Capital of the Corinthian Order) Mr. Baker.

“JERRY HAWTHORN (out of Order, and more of the Composite than Corinthian,

never intended for the Church, though fond of a Steeple-chase). Mr.

Oxberry.

“LOGIC (a Chopping Boy, ‘full of wise saws and modern instances’)., by Mr.

Vale.”

[Illustration: LIFE IN LONDON]

A DESCRIPTION OF THE METROPOLIS

_Written and Set to Music by_

CORINTHIAN TOM.

LONDON TOWN’S a dashing place--For ev’ry thing that’s going,

There’s _fun_ and _gig_ in every face--so natty and so _knowing_.

Where NOVELTY is all the rage--From high to low degree,

Such pretty _lounges_ to engage--Only come and see!:--

What charming sights--On gala nights,

Masquerades--Grand parades,

Famed gas lights--Knowing fights,

RANDALL and CRIBB--Know how to _fib_.

Tothill-fields--Pleasure yields.

The Norwich bull--With antics full.

Plenty of news--All to amuse;

The Monkey “JACCO”--All the crack O!

Ambroghetti’s squall--Match girl’s bawl!

Put on the _gloves_--Playful as doves

Then show your _forte_--At the FIVES’ COURT;

Conjurors rare--At _Bartlemy_ fair;

POLITO’S beasts--See city feasts,

Lord Mayor’s day--Then the play,

Adelphi Theatre--Pretty feature!

Rotton Row--All the Go!

In the Bench--Keep your wench.

When next you roam--Mathew’s “AT HOME!”

Such prime joking--Lots of smoking;

Here all dash on--In the fashion.

CHORUS--Dancing, singing, full of glee,

O London, London town for me!

From ev’ry part the natives run,

To view this spot of land;

All are delighted with the fun,

_Astonish’d_ ’tis so grand!

To Vauxhall haste to see the blaze.

Such variegated lights;

The ladies’ charms are all the gaze--

No _artificial_ sights!:--

Lovely Faces--Full of graces,

Heavenly charms--Create alarms!

Such glances--And dances.

To the sky--See SAQUI fly--

In the blaze--All to amaze.

Cyprians fine--_Kids_ full of wine,

Orchestre grand--Pandean band;

Charming singing--Pleasure bringing;

Great attraction--And satisfaction:

Plenty of _hoaxing_--Strong coaxing;

Beautiful shapes--Beaux and apes,

Prone to quiz--Every phiz!

Dashing glasses--Queering lasses;

Flashy cits--Numerous wits;

Loud talking--Thousands walking:

Rare treating--Numbers eating;

Punch and wine--Every thing prime,

Grand CASCADE--Once displayed;

Duke and groom--In one room;

Here all dash on--In the fashion!

CHORUS--Dancing, singing, full of glee,

O London, London town for me!

And various _fancies_ there display’d,

To please and cheer the mind;

They captivate both man and maid,

All polite and kind,

See fashion driving through each street,

With splendour and renown:

Pedestrians, too, with _shining_ feet;

O, what a charming town!:--

Four-in-hand--Down the Strand!

Funny gigs--With knowing wigs;

BAXTER’S hats--That queer the flats;

Flashy whips--With silver tips,

Leathern breech--Pretty stitch!

High-bred cattle--Tittle tattle,

TATTERSALL sell--Peep into “HELL!”

Full of play--And make a stay;

Hear KEAN speak, GRIMALDI squeak!

Courts of law--Full of jaw;

BROUGHAM plead--MACAULEY read;

And Old Borum--At the Forum;

To Opera prance--See Vestris dance,

At Free and Easy--Full and greasy;

Prime song and catch--The Trotting-match

LONDON CRIES--O rare hot pies!

Sadler’s Wells--In summer tells;

Quick approach--In Hackney-coach;

Take your _Daffy_--All be happy:

And then dash on--In the fashion.

CHORUS--Dancing, singing, full of glee,

O London, London town for me!

Mr. W. T. Moncrieff--one of the most successful and prolific writers of

the day--appeared as the third on the list of dramatists, and it was

announced at the Adelphi Theatre in the following style:--“On Monday, Nov.

26th, 1821, will be presented for the first time, on a scale of

unprecedented extent (having been many weeks in preparation, under the

superintendence of several of the most celebrated Artists, both in the

_Ups and Downs_ of Life, who have all kindly come forward to assist the

Proprietors in their endeavours to render this Piece a complete

out-and-outer), an entirely new Classic, Comic, Operatic, Didactic,

Aristophanic, Localic, Analytic, Panoramic, Camera-Obscura-ic,

Extravaganza Burletta of Fun, Frolic, Fashion, and Flash, in three acts,

called ‘TOM and JERRY; or, LIFE IN LONDON.’ Replete with Prime Chaunts,

Rum Glees, and Kiddy Catches, founded on Pierce Egan’s well-known and

highly popular work of the same name, by a celebrated extravagant erratic

Author. The Music selected and modified by him, from the most eminent

composers, ancient and modern, and every Air furnished with an attendant

train of Graces. The costume and scenery superintended by Mr. I. R.

Cruikshank, from the Drawings by himself and his brother, Mr. George

Cruikshank, the celebrated Artists of the original work.”

TOM AND JERRY;

OR, LIFE IN LONDON.

AN OPERATIC EXTRAVAGANZA

BY W. T. MONCRIEFF.

[Illustration:

HARK! the watchman springs his rattle,

Now the midnight lark’s begun.]

Dramatis Personæ.

_As performed at the Adelphi Theatre._

CORINTHIAN TOM Mr. Wrench.

JERRY HAWTHORN Mr. W. Burrough & Mr. J. Reeve.

LOGIC Mr. Wilkinson.

JEMMY GREEN Mr. Keeley & Mr. Brown.

HON. DICK TRIFLE Mr. Bellamy.

SQUIRE HAWTHORN Mr. Buckingham.

PRIMEFIT Mr. Waylett.

REGULAR Mr. Smith.

TATTERSAL Mr. Philips.

MACE Mr. Maxwell.

BILLY WATERS Mr. Paulo.

LITTLE JEMMY Mr. Cooper.

DUSTY BOB Mr. Walbourn.

KATE (otherwise the HON. MISS TRIFLE), Mrs. Baker.

SUE (otherwise the HON. MISS TRIFLE), Mrs. Waylett.

JANE (otherwise the HON. MISS TRIFLE), Miss Hammersley.

MRS. TARTAR Mrs. Daly.

AFRICAN SAL Mr. Sanders.

Many of the names in the above cast will be familiar to old playgoers, as

most of the persons engaged in the performance became great favourites

with the public, and remained on the British stage for the remaining part

of their respective lives. Now:--

“All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.”

TOM AND JERRY.

[Illustration]

From over the hills and far away,

Where rustic sports employ each day

Young Jerry came with cousin Tom,

To see the rigs of London Town.

Of all that e’er he did or saw,

A faithful picture here we draw.

SCENE--_Chaffing Crib in Corinthian House.--Table, Boxing Gloves, Chairs,

Foils, &c., &c._

_Enter_ TOM _and_ JERRY, _as just arrived_.

_Tom._ Ya! hip! come along, Jerry; here we are safe arrived, my boy.

Welcome, my dear Jerry, to Corinthian Hall--to my snug chaffing

crib--where, I hope, we shall have many a rare bit of gig together.

_Jerry._ Chaffing crib! I’m at fault, coz, can’t follow.

_Tom._ My prattling parlour--my head quarters, coz--where I unbend with my

pals. You are now in London the bang-up spot of the world for fun, frolic,

and out-and-out-ing. Here it shall be my care, Jerry, to introduce you to

all sorts of life--from the flowers of society, the roses, pinks, and

tulips, of one court, to the mechanical tag-rag and

bobtail--vegetables--bunches of turnips--and strings of ing-ens, of

another: for without a proper introduction, London, gay, bustling,

various, as it is, would be no more than an immense wilderness.

_Jerry._ I suppose not. I’ll do as much for you another time.

_Tom._ We must make the best use of our time; I have seen a great deal of

life myself; still I have a great deal yet to see. But let me give you a

caution or two before we set out; never be too confident--rather at all

times plead ignorance than show it; never disgrace the character of a

friend, in that family where you are introduced as a friend; let the

honour of the husband and the peace of the father be preserved inviolable;

and never have the once friendly door be shut against you, either as a

seducer--a hypocrite--or a scoundrel. But I say, my dear fellow, what do

you call all this?--this toggery of yours will never fit--you must have a

new rig-out.

_Jerry._ Eh! oh! I understand. You think the cut of my clothes rather too

rustic--eh?

_Tom._ Exactly; dress is the order of the day. A man must have the _look_

of a gentleman, if he has nothing else. We must assume a style if we have

it not. This, what do you call it?--this cover-me-decently, was all very

well at Hawthorn Hall, I dare say; but here, among the pinks in

Rotten-row, the ladybirds in the Saloon, the angelics at Almack’s,

the-top-of-the-tree heroes, the legs and levanters at Tattersall’s, nay,

even among the millers at the Fives, it would be taken for nothing less

than the index of a complete flat.

_Jerry._ I suppose not--what’s to be done?

_Tom._ I’ll tell you; before we start on our sprees and rambles, I’ll send

for that kiddy-artist, Dicky Primefit, the dandy habit maker, of

Regent-street. He shall rig you out in grand twig, in no time. Here,

Regular! (_Calls_).

_Reg._ Here I am sir.

_Tom._ Send for Dicky Primefit, directly.

_Reg._ What! the sufferer, Sir?

_Tom._ Yes, that’s the fellow; tell him to bring his card of address with

him.

_Jerry._ Sufferer! I’m at fault again, Tom; can’t follow.

_Tom._ The tailor, Jerry: we do make them suffer sometimes.

_Reg._ Yes, sir, the tailor bless me, how very uneducated; I thought every

gentleman knew his tailor was the sufferer; I’m sure I know mine is, and

to some tune too, I’ll chivey the rascal here directly, sir.

[_Exit._

_Tom._ You shall go into training for a swell at once.

_Jerry._ A swell! I’m at fault again.

_Tom._ A swell, my dear Jerry----

_Log._ (_Speaks without_). Just arrived, eh, very well. I’ll go up!

_Tom._ But stay; here comes my friend Bob Logic; he shall tell you what a

swell is--his head contains all the learning--I beg his pardon--all the

larks extant; he is a complete walking map of the metropolis--a perfect

pocket dictionary of all the flash cant, and slang patter, either of St.

James’s or St. Giles’s; only twig him. Welcome, my dear Bob; ten thousand

welcomes.

[Illustration]

+----------------------------+

| MR. ROBERT LOGIC. |

| _Albany._ |

|_A_, _No. 9._|

+----------------------------+

_Enter_ LOGIC.

_Log._ Thankye, my dear Tom--thankye. Seeing your natty gig and fast

trotter at the door, as I passed, I couldn’t avoid popping in to welcome

you back to town. You’ve been sadly miss’d among the big ones since

you’ve been away. Lots of chaffing about you at Daffy’s.

_Tom._ I suppose so. You couldn’t have popped in more opportunely! Allow

me to introduce to you my companion and cousin, Jeremiah Hawthorn,

Esquire, from Somersetshire; Jerry Hawthorn, Doctor Logic, commonly called

Bob Logic--Doctor Logic, Jerry Hawthorn. Bob is the most finished man of

all the pavé, Jerry, whether for drinking, roving, getting in a row or

getting out of one.

_Log._ Oh, you flatter me! I yield the palm to you in those particulars.

To be sure I always was a knowing one.

_Tom._ You were, Bob.

_Log._ (_To Jerry_). Your most obedient, sir; happy to see you. Where did

you pick him up? (_To Tom_).

_Tom._ A slip from the chawbacons; rescued him from yokels. The business

is this; bred up in Somersetshire. Jerry has never before crossed

Claverton Downs. He is now come to see life, and rub off a little of the

rust. In effecting this desirable consummation you can materially assist;

under so skilful a professor of the flash as you, Bob--

_Jerry._ Flash! I’m at fault again, Tom.

_Tom._ Explain, Bob.

_Log._ Flash, my young friend, or slang as others call it, is the

classical language of the Holy Land; in other words, St. Giles’s Greek.

_Jerry._ St. Giles’s Greek; that is a language, doctor, with which I am

totally unacquainted, although I was brought up at a Grammar School.

_Log._ You are not particular in that respect; many great scholars, and

better linguists than you, are quite as ignorant of it, it being studied

more in the Hammer Schools than the Grammar Schools. Flash, my young

friend, or slang, as others call it, is a species of cant in which the

knowing ones conceal their roguery from the flats; and it is one of the

advantages of seeing Life in London, that you may learn to talk to a rogue

in his own language, and fight him with his own weapons.

_Tom._ I was telling him before you came in, Bob, that he must go in

training for a swell, and he didn’t understand what I meant.

_Jerry._ Oh, yes, I did, Tom.

_Tom._ No, no, you didn’t; come, confess your ignorance.

_Log._ Not know what a swell meant?

_Tom._ No: he wasn’t up.

_Jerry._ Not up?

_Log._ That is, you were not down.

_Jerry._ Not down!

_Tom._ No; you’re green!

_Jerry._ Green!

_Log._ Ah! not fly!

_Tom._ Yes, not awake!

_Jerry._ “Green! fly! awake!” D--me, but I’m at fault. I don’t understand

one word you are saying.

_Log._ We know you don’t, and that’s what we’re telling you. Poor young

man--very uninformed.

_Tom._ Quite ignorant, isn’t he, Bob?

_Log._ Melancholy to think of--quite lamentable.

_Tom._ You must go to school, again, Jerry.

_Jerry._ What! the Hammer School?

_Log._ Yes, take your degrees under the classical Captain Grose. A swell,

my dear boy, or rather an empty swell, is an animal very plentiful in the

fashionable world; which, like the frog in the fable, wishing to appear

greater than it is, and vie with the substantial John Bulls of the

Exchange, keeps puffing and puffing itself out, till it bursts in the

attempt, and proves its appearance, like itself, a bubble.

_Enter_ REGULAR.

_Reg._ The sufferer’s carriage is at the door, sir.

_Tom._ What, Dicky Primefit? trundle him in.

_Reg._ This way, Mr. Primefit.

_Prime._ (_Without_). Have the goodness, young man, to desire my footman

to tell my coachman to turn the horses heads towards the Military Club

House:--

_Enter_ PRIMEFIT.

And take that pair of buckskins from under the seat, that I’m going to

take home to the Duke of Dolittle.

_Reg._ Very well Mr. Thing-emy. Must stick it into him for a new pair of

_kickses_, by-and-by.

[_Exit._

_Prime._ Gentlemen, your most obedient. Mr. Corinthian, yours. What are

your commands? was it your little bill you wanted? because if it is, I’ve

got it all ready--’tis but a small account! (_Unrolls long bill_).

_Tom._ Eh! (_Looking at it_). Oh, d--n your bill!

_Log._ (_After looking at it_). Ah, d--n your bill! (_Throws himself on

sofa_).

_Jerry._ (_Walking round it_). Yes, d--n your bill!--I’m up, down, and

see--I’m fly!

_Prime._ Very well, gentlemen, with all my heart--dem the bill; I’ll take

care of the receipt though; (_aside._) as you don’t want to discharge your

account, Mr. Corinthian, perhaps you wish to add to it; if so, I’ll take

your orders with pleasure.

JERRY IN TRAINING FOR A SWELL.

[Illustration]

Now Jerry must needs be a swell,

His coat must have a swallow-tail,

And Mr. Snip, so handy, O,

Soon rigg’d him out a Dandy, O.

Then hey for Life and London Town,

To swagger Bond Street up and down,

And wink at every pretty maid

They meet in Burlington Arcade.

_Tom._ You’ve nicked it; the fact is this, Dicky--you must turn

missionary. Here is a young native from the country, just caught, whom you

must civilise.

_Prime._ Oh! I understand. From the cut of the gentleman’s clothes, I

presume he’s lately come from the Esquimaux Islands.

_Tom._ Ha! ha! very good Primefit; I say, Jerry--you see he’s down upon

you.

_Jerry._ Yes, he’s up, he’s awake, he’s fly--Ha! ha!

_Tom._ Now Dicky, out with your rainbow.

_Prime._ Here are the patterns, gentlemen, the very last fashions, every

one; you can choose for yourself; but this is the colour most in

vogue--generally greens.

_Jerry._ Yes, I’m told you London tailors are particularly fond of

greens--cabbage to wit. But I am not very particular; only let me have

something of this cut. (_Turning round and showing himself_).

_Tom._ Oh, no, hang that cut; the colour may fit; but the cut never will.

_Prime._ By the by, if the gentleman’s in a hurry, I’ve a suit of clothes

in my carriage, that I was about to take home to the Marquis of Squander,

which I think will fit him exactly.

_Tom._ Eh, the Marquis of Squander--just Jerry’s diameter; why that will

be the very thing. Let it be laid on the table directly.

_Prime._ Young man, bring that there bundle, into this here room.

(_Regular brings on bundle_). You will find these perfectly _comme il

faut_, I can assure you.

_Tom._ Come, Jerry, cast your skin--peel--slip into the swell case at

once, my boy--are you up?

_Jerry._ Peel! oh, I know--I’m down, Tom, I’m fly.

_Tom._ Come, Dicky, put him all right--screw him into them.

_Prime._ You may rely upon me, Mr. Corinthian.

(_Jerry is fitted with Coat and Waistcoat; meantime, Tom and Regular box

with gloves.--When Jerry is dressed he struts along the front of the

stage_).

_Jerry._ A tight fit, not much hunting room,--no matter,--there, Tom I’m

all fly.

_Tom._ I knew Dicky would finish him, There’s not a better snyder in

England, taking Nugee, Dollman, the Baron, and Rowlands into the bargain

against him. That will do--now then Dicky, mizzle!--be scarce!--broom.

_Prime._ Wouldn’t intrude a moment, gentlemen, good morning--order my

carriage, there, John--I’ll just take an ice, and then for the Duke.

[_Exit._

_Jerry._ The Duke and an ice--cursed cool--if these are the London

tailors, what must be their customers?

_Log._ It’s the blunt that does it--blunt makes the man, Jerry.

_Jerry._ Blunt! I’m at fault again.

_Tom._ Explain, Bob----

_Log._ Blunt, my dear boy, is--in short what is it not? It’s every thing

now o’days--to be able to flash the screens--sport the rhino--show the

needful--post the pony--nap the rent--stump the pewter--tip the brads--and

down with the dust, is to be at once good, great, handsome, accomplished,

and everything that’s desirable--money, money, is your universal

God,--only get into Tip Street, Jerry.

_Tom._ Well, come let’s make a start of it--where shall we go? No matter.

I commit him to your care, Bob--use him well, remember he is not out of

pupil’s straits, and musn’t be blown up at point nonplus yet.

_Jerry._ Why on London points I confess I am miserably ignorant. But for

anything in the country, now--such as leaping a five-barred gate, jumping

a ditch, trotting my pony against anything alive, wrestling, cudgelling,

or kissing in the ring, depend on it, Tom, you’ll find me--fly.

_Log._ He’s a fine-spirited youth, and will soon make a tie of it with

us--we’ll start first to the show shop of the metropolis, Hyde

Park!--promenade it down the grand strut, take a ride with the pinks in

Rotten Row, where dukes and dealers in queer--heavy plodders and

operators--noblemen, and yokels--barber’s clerks, costard-mongers--swell

coves, and rainbows, all jostle one another; then we’ll have a stroll

through Burlington Arcade, peep in at Tattersal’s, and finish as fancy

leads us.

_Tom._ Bravo! Hyde Park! Burlington Arcade! nothing can be better.

_Log._ No; Arcades are all the go now.

SONG.

AIR.--“_Carnival of Venice._”

_Bazaars have long since had their day,

Are common grown and low;

And now, at powerful Fashion’s sway,

Arcades are all the go.

Then let’s to Piccadilly haste,

And wander through the shade;

And half an hour of pleasure taste,

In Burlington Arcade._

_Tom._ Now, my dear Jerry, to introduce you to another scene of Life in

London;--you have taken a ride among the pinks in Rotten Row, have dipped

into the Westminster pit, sported your blunt with the flue-fakers and gay

tyke boys on the phenomenon monkey[31]--seen that gamest of all buffers,

Rumpty-tum, with the rats; and now you can make assignation with some of

our dashing straw-chippers and nob-thatchers in Burlington Arcade:--This

is the very walk of Cupid and here----

[_Jane slips the letter into his hand and runs off._

_Tom._ I say, you messenger of Cupid--hey, why zounds, she’s bolted!

_Log._ You’ll give chase, Tom?

_Tom._ To be sure I will, Bob.

_Jerry._ I see her, clearing the corner of yonder street--I’m not at fault

now.

_Tom._ Tip us the view hallo! then, Jerry.

_Jerry._ Yoicks! yoicks!

_Exeunt Omnes._

[Illustration]

SCENE.--_Tattersall’s.--Grooms, Jockeys, I’s Yorkshire-Coves, Blacklegs._

SOLO AND CHORUS.

AIR.--“_Gee ho, Dobbin._”

_Grooms, Jockies, and Chaunters, to Tattersal’s bring,

Your lame and blind spavin’d prads in a string.

Knowing ones, that have no legs to go on, may scoff,

But we I’s Yorkshire coves here can make them go off.

Gee ho, Dobbin! Gee ho, Dobbin!

Gee ho, Dobbin! Gee up, and gee ho!_

_Cope._ Well, Master Gull’em, do you think we shall get the flat-catcher

off to-day?

_Gul._ As sure as your name is Simon Cope, only wait till the flats

come--have you given his pedigree to Tattersall?

_Cope._ Yes; and he’s promised to put him up first.

_Gul._ Mind, you’re the seller,--I’m the bidder--hallo! here’s three

swells coming this way--that one in the middle, looks like a flat, we must

try it on upon him.

_Cope._ Hush! don’t let’s appear to know one another.

_Enter_ TOM, JERRY, _and_ LOGIC.

_Tom._ Confound the little gipsy, she has fairly given us the slip, by

Jupiter--however, the assignation must be attended to.--Almack’s! smacks

well. You are now at Tattersall’s, Jerry, a very worthy fellow, who made

his fortune by a horse called Highflyer. In remembrance of whom the

following epitaph was written:--

HERE LIETH

The perfect and beautiful symmetry

Of the much-lamented

HIGHFLYER;

By whom, and his wonderful offspring,

The celebrated TATTERSALL acquired a noble fortune,

But he was not ashamed to acknowledge it.

In gratitude to this famous

STALLION

He called an elegant mansion he built

HIGHFLYER HALL.

_Jerry._ Hum! and if one may judge from the splendour and extent of his

premises, he seems to be no small highflyer himself.

_Tom._ You are right, Jerry--I shall here buy a bit of cavalry--that is a

prad, on your judgment.

_Jerry._ You’ll not find me at fault here, depend on’t.

_Tom._ What you’re up, eh?

_Jerry._ Yes, quite fly, depend on’t.

_Gul._ I beg pardon, gemmen--want to buy a prad? here’s one a gentleman

wants to sell--you can’t have a better, Sir; here, you Bob, bring him out.

There’s action for you--there’s one to tip ’em the go-bye at a

mill,--there’s earth-stoppers--quiet to drive, quiet in harness, trots

fifteen miles in less than an hour. Warranted sound--he would be cheap at

a hundred, and I shouldn’t wonder if he was to go for thirty.

_Jerry._ Ah, thirty-pence--two-and-six-pence,--I wouldn’t have him at a

gift.

_Log._ He may be a good one to go--but he’s a rum one to look at--one of

my Lord Cagmag’s sort, he always drives two puffers, a stumbler, and a

blinker.

_Gul._ (_To Cope_). These chaps are awake; it wont suit.

_Cope._ Never mind, we shall meet a flat presently.

[Illustration]

_Tat._ (_Who has now mounted the rostrum_). Now, gentlemen, we’ll proceed

to business. The first article I have to offer to your notice is that

prime Yorkshire stallion Bite--he was got by Blackleg out of

Greenhorn--what shall I say, gentlemen, for this beautiful and most

serviceable animal?--he is rising five, next grass--warranted

sound--perfect in all his paces.

_Tom._ Nine pence.

_Tat._ Oh, Sir! (_To Jerry_). What do you say, Sir?

_Jerry._ Why, if you’ll put his other eye in, I’ll give you three

halfpence a pound for him.

_Log._ Let’s be off, Tom--Come, Jerry.

[_Exit Tom, Jerry, and Logic._

_Tat._ Come, gentlemen, will nobody be a bidder?

[Illustration]

_Enter_ JEMMY GREEN.

_Green._ Yes, I’ll bid--I’ll bid. Mr. Green from the City. I wants an

’orse, and I like the looks of that ’ere hanimal amazingly, and I’m no bad

judge, I tell you that.

_Gul._ Here’s a customer, by jingo. It’s booked. Mr. Green’s the

purchaser. (_Aside_). That’s a famous horse, that there, Sir--I mean to

have him at any price.

_Green._ I don’t know that, Mister.

_Gul._ I must clench it at once--fifteen pounds for that ’ere horse.

_Green._ Twenty pounds, Mr. Hauctioneer.

_Cope._ Beg pardon, Sir, but you can’t have a better horse, and he’s cheap

at fifty.

_Green._ I am wery much obliged to you for your adwice--but I happens to

know what an ’orse is--I’m not a _hass_! I’ll have him, but I shan’t go

further nor forty.

_Gul._ Five and twenty pounds.

_Green._ Thirty.

_Tat._ Thirty pounds; any advance upon thirty pounds?

_Green._ Yes, five more.

_Tat._ Thankye, Sir; thirty-five.

_Gul._ Thirty-six, my regular.

_Green._ Thirty-seven, my regular.

_Gul._ Thirty-nine.

_Green._ Thirty-nine, for me too.

_Tat._ It’s against you, Mr. Green.

_Green._ Against me is it? vy I bid as much as him.--Vell, forty!

_Tat._ For forty pounds, have you all done at forty? last time at

forty--forty--going for forty! going--going--gone! Mr. Green, he’s yours.

_Green._ I’ve bought him!

_Tat._ You have indeed, Sir!

_Green._ Here’s your money, Sir--Mr. Green, from Tooley Street--you’ll

find two twenties! and I’m wery much obliged to you for your serwility.

_Cope._ You don’t want a civil honest lad to lead him home for your

honour, do you, Sir?

_Green._ No thank’ye, I’m not going to trust an hanimal like that with

nobody but myself. Can nobody have the goodness to lend me a bit of rope,

to get him along vith?

_Cope._ No we’ve got you in a line, and that’s quite enough. (_Aside_) You

bought him too cheap, to have rope with him, Sir; but here’s a hay-band,

that will do perhaps.

_Green._ An ay-band--oh, ah; an ay-band will do very well,--do you think I

can get him as far as Tooley Street, vith this?

_Cope._ Oh, yes, Sir, he’s as quiet as a lamb, and a famous hunter.

_Green._ An unter! I’ve taken ’em all in; I’ve bought an unter!

_Cope._ Ah, and nothing but a good one neither--such a one to clear a

gate.

_Green._ Vot? clear a gate! vy, then, I sha’n’t have to pay no

turnpikes!--How pleased they’ll be in Tooley Street, when I tell’s my pa

I’ve bought an unter!

_Gul._ We’ll get something more out of him yet. (_Aside to Cope_). So you

think you have bought that ’ere horse, do you Mister?--Now, I say, I’ve

bought him. (_To Green_)

_Green._ You bought him? that’s a good un! but I’m not to be taken in in

this here manner!--if you bought him, I paid for him, that’s all I know.

_Gul._ I say I bought him, and the horse is mine.

_Green._ I say as how you are a wery unpurlite gentleman.

[Illustration]

_Cope._ Oh gentlemen, I’m sorry to see you quarrel.--(_To Gull’em_)--Let

me speak to the gentleman, and I’ll convince him.--(_To Green_)--Sir, if

you’ll give me one pound note, I’ll swear you bought him, and that the

horse is yours.

_Green._ Sir, I’m wery much obliged to you, you’re werry purlite; and as I

don’t mind a von pound note, and vishes to ’ave that ’ere hanimal all to

myself, vy, there’s the money.

_Cope._ I’ve done him. (_To Gull’em_). Oh, the horse belongs to this

gentleman,--I saw him pay for it.

_Green._ To be sure he did.

_Gul._ Oh, if you paid for him you certainly bought him.

_Green._ Certainly; I’m glad it’s all settled: I think as how I may as

vell ride him home. Vill you please to assist me to mount?--(_Gull’m puts

him with his face to the horse’s tail_).

_Green._ Holloa! vy the horse’s head’s behind. Turn him round, if you

please, young man. Come no tricks.--(_They turn the horse round_).--Vy the

horse’s head is behind yet.--(_Green jumps off his back_).--I see you are

going it, but I’m not to be had--I’m a knowing von! I shall lead him home

myself.--Good morning, gentleman, I thank you for all your serwilities.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Jarvey! Here am I, ye’r honour.]

SCENE.--_Hyde Park Corner._

_Enter_ TOM, JERRY, _and_ LOGIC.

_Tom._ Ha! ha! ha! was there ever such a flat as that Mr. Green?--we can

buy no prad to-day, Jerry; we must go when some gentlemen’s stud is

selling; and while the dealers are running down the cattle, we can get a

prime good one for a song. But now for Almack’s--the highest Life in

London! and see what game Cupid has sprung up for us in that quarter.

_Jerry._ I long to be there,--let’s hasten to dress at once.

_Log._ Aye; call a rattler.

_Jerry._ A rattler! I’m at fault again.

_Log._ A rattler is a rumbler, otherwise a jarvey! better known perhaps by

the name of a hack; handy enough in wet weather, or a hurry.

_Jerry._ A hack! If it is the thing we rattled over the stones in to-day,

it might more properly be called a bone-setter.

_Tom._ Or bone-breaker--But if you dislike going in a hack, we’ll get you

a mab.

_Jerry._ A mab! I’m at fault again--never shall get properly broken in.

_Tom._ A mab is a jingling jarvey!--a cabriolet Jerry--but we must mind

our flash doesn’t peep out at Almack’s. ’Tis classic ground there; the

rallying spot of all the rank, wealth, and beauty in the metropolis; the

very atmosphere of it is--

THE BANG-UP OF THE BIG WIGS.

[Illustration]

_Jerry._ Rather different to that of Rum-ti-tum and the rats. I should

imagine.

_Tom._ A shade or two!--we must be on our P’s and Q’s there--forget the

Phenomenon and the Fancy. If you find me tripping, Jerry, whisper Lethe to

bury it in oblivion; and, if necessary, I’ll do the same kind office for

you.

_Jerry._ Ten thousand thanks!

_Log._ Come along, then. Now, Jerry, chivey!

_Jerry._ Chivey?

_Log._ Mizzle?

_Jerry._ Mizzle?

_Log._ Tip you rags a gallop!

_Jerry._ Tip my rags a gallop?

_Log._ Walk your trotters!

_Jerry._ Walk my trotters?

_Log._ Bolt!

_Jerry._ Bolt? oh, aye! I’m fly now. You mean go.--_Exeunt Omnes_

ALMACK’S IN THE WEST.

[Illustration]

If once to ALMACK’S you belong,

Like MONARCH’S you can _do no wrong_;

But banished thence on Wednesday night,

By Jove, you can do nothing right.

Ladies, your most humble servants,

Tom and Jerry stands before you.

Our blood is thrilling, you’re so killing;

At once we love you and adore you.

Let us softly sit beside you;

Trust us, you will quickly own,

That love’s alarms hath sweeter charms

Than joys e’er yet to mortal known.

SCENE.--_Almack’s brilliantly illuminated--Duchess of Diamonds, Countess

Conversatione, Princess Pulmante, Lady Eastend, Baron Rufus, Sir Tilbury

Unit, and Company discovered._

_Enter_ KATE, SUE, JANE, _and_ TRIFLE.

_Sue._ I do not see them yet.

_Kate._ I can depend upon Corinthian; and I think you may upon your lover.

In the meantime, let us have a minuet to dissipate our _ennui_.

_Enter_ GREEN, _in ball dress_.

_Green._ Aye, aye, a minivit to dissipate our _ong vee_, by all means.

_Sue._ As I live, Trifle, here is that Mr. Green, to whom you introduced

us.

_Trifle._ Aye, aye, from the City. We find these City folks--these

Greens--excessively useful in money matters, _pan hanour_. How are you my

dear fa-el-low.

_Sue._ Your servant, Mr. Green.

_Green._ Ladies, your most _dewoted_. Mr. Trifle, your humble--Oh, this is

the master of the ceremonies, and those are the two that’s to dance the

gavotte. Yes, that’s Willis--_permitty moy_. (_Takes Kate and Sue’s

arms_).

_Kate._ Eh, bless me, Mr. Green, what is the matter? Why, you seem quite

out of spirits; I hope nothing has happened to Mrs. Green or any of the

little Greens.

_Green._ Oh, no, nothing; but you labour under a mistake quite entirely;

there is no Mrs. Green--I am not an ’appy man yet! There are no little

Greens, neither--no young sprouts, I assure you. No, I’m out of spirits

because I have been dished and doodled out of forty pounds to-day; I have

been taken in by the purchase of an ’orse at Tattersall’s--It was a very

fine looking hanimal but before I got him home, the cursed creature went

upon three legs--Dragg’d the other behind him, like a pendulum.

_Kate._ My dear Mr. Green, will you join in a dance?

_Green._ Oh, dear no--I couldn’t think of such a thing--I never danced but

once, and then I was so excruciated with termidity that I tipped up my

partner, lost one of my shoes, and diskivered an ole in my stocking.

_Kate._ Oh, horrid, how could you support the shock? But here is a lady

who is absolutely pining for the honour of your hand.

_Green._ Vell, if she’ll instruct me when I’m out, I don’t mind making one

in a quod-reel.

_Sue._ That’s well said--hey, here they are, now, my dear Trifle.

_Enter_ TOM, JERRY, _and_ LOGIC, _full dressed_.

_Tom._ At length, my dear Jerry, we are at Almack’s, though egad I began

to think we should be too late.

_Jerry._ This indeed is a splendid view of Life in London.

_Tom._ It is; the tip-top! set off to the best advantage, by the best

dresses, finished by the best behaviour. (_Trifle quizzes through glass up

stage_).

_Log._ Yes, witness that puppy, staring us out of countenance with his

quizzing glass yonder--why don’t he wear green specs, as I do, if his

ogles are queer.

_Tom._ LETHE! LETHE! my dear Bob--you forget where you are.

_Jerry._ The half-and-half coves are somewhat different from the swaddies,

and gay tykeboys, at the dog pit--Eh, Tom?

_Tom._ Lethe! Lethe; my dear Jerry--mum!

_Trifle._ My dear fa-el-low, you really must excuse my interrupting

you--but what can you possibly have been preaching to your friend from

the country so long--here are three lovely girls waiting to be introduced

to you--relations of mine, the Honourable Miss Trifles--we must make up a

quadrille.

_Tom._ Three girls, Jerry!--Do you hear that?

_Jerry._ I’m up----

_Trifle._ I’m not equal to the fatigue of an introduction myself,--but my

friend Green from the City here, will oblige me by taking the trouble off

my hands.

_Green._ Vith the greatest of pleasure--the Honourable Miss Trifle--Mr.

Corinthian.--The Honourable Miss S. Trifle.--Mr. Hawthorn.--the Honourable

Miss J. Trifle--Doctor Logic.

_Ceremony of introduction takes place._

_Jerry._ What divinities! but I say, Tom, this girl is as like my Sue,

as--yet it can’t be.

_Tom._ And this one is as like my Kate as one pea is like another--I could

have betted every rap--six quid to four----

_Jerry._ Lethe, Tom,--Lethe,--L-E-T-H-E. (_Spelling it_).

_Tom._ The retort courteous--I own it.

_Green._ Excuse my hinterfering, my dear fellows, but ve’re just going to

make up a quod-reel, and vant you to join us.

_Tom._ Ah! ah! a quadrille by all means--you’ll dance, Jerry?

_Jerry._ I know nothing about quadrilles, Tom--but the deuce is in it if I

can’t cut as good a figure as _this Mister Jemmy_ Green, so I don’t care

if I do kick up my heels a bit.

_Green._ Aye, a dance, a dance.

_After dance_, JERRY _advances with_ SUE.

_Jerry._ Sweet girl! may I be permitted to hope that the partnership of

this evening may lead to one for life?

_Sue._ Ah! Sir, a dance affords you gallant gentlemen worlds of latitude

for flattery and deceit.

_Jerry._ Nay, I am sincere, by heaven!

_Sue._ Come, Sir, they are about to waltz, and if you wouldn’t have my

head as giddy as you seem to think my heart is, you will conduct me to a

seat.

_Jerry._ With rapture! This is, indeed, LIFE IN LONDON.

[Illustration]

SCENE.--_Tom Cribb’s parlour.--Swell coves, Millers, &c., drinking and

blowing their clouds; Tom, Jerry, Green, and Logic among them.--Cribb in

the chair.--Chorus (Omnes)._

AIR.--“_Oh, who has not heard of a Jolly Young Waterman._”

_Oh, who has not heard of our gallant black diamond,

Who once down at Hungerford us’d for to ply?

His mawleys he us’d with such skill and dexterity,

Winning each mill, and making each miller fly!

He fibb’d so neat--he stopped so steadily;

He hit so straight--he floored so readily.

In every game ’twas_ the _Cribb won it fair;

He’s Champion of England, and now fills the chair._

_Cribb._ Thank’ye, gentleman, thank’ye--but as I see by our sporting

oracle, “The Dispatch,” there’s a mill on foot--I’ll give you, “_May the

best man win_.”

(_All drink_). May the best man win.

_Green._ May the best man vin.

_Log._ With all my heart; but, zounds! we’ve almost buzz’d the bowl. Let’s

have another, and dy’e hear, Tom, serve it up in your prize cup; Jerry

hasn’t seen it, and we mustn’t omit that.

_Cribb._ With all my heart, Doctor; but you must stand a bottle to see the

cup.

[Illustration]

_Log._ Yes, yes, I’ll stand a bottle to christen the cup.

_Jerry._ Aye, aye; I’ll stand a bottle, Tom.

_Tom._ Ditto for me.

_Green._ Yes, and I’ll stand a bottle of ditto, too.

_Jerry._ This may, indeed, be called the very Temple of the Fancy.

_Log._ Yes, and here are some of the finest fancy sketches in the kingdom.

_Tom._ Well, Jerry, after our last night’s divertisement at Almack’s, the

set-to I gave you this morning at the great Commissary-General Jackson’s

rooms cannot be better followed up than by a turn in the sporting parlour

of honest Tom Cribb.

_Cribb._ Thank’ye, Mr. Corinthian; I’ll always do my best to satisfy you

in any way.

_Tom._ There is one way, Tom, in which you would very soon satisfy us.

_Jerry._ Yes, and I’m thinking not a little to our dis-satisfaction. I am

of opinion that every gentleman should practice the art of self defence,

if it were only to protect him from the insults of vulgar ignorance;

though I by no means set myself up as a champion for boxing.

_Log._ No, for if you did we’ve a champion here who would set you down.

We’ll drink his health, and may he ever prove as successful as when he

floor’d the Black Miller at Thistleton Gap. (_All drink_).

_Tom._ Tom, your health. (_Cribb rises_). Silence for Tom’s speech--doff

your castor, Tom--that’s the time of day.

_Cribb._ Gentlemen, my humble duty to you. Here’s all your healths, and

your families. Bless your soul, I can claim no merit for what I’ve done;

fighting came naturally like, and thinking others might be as fond of it

as myself, why, I always gave them a bellyfull.

_Tom._ Bravo, Tom, an excellent speech--Cicero never spoke better.

_Log._ No, nor anything like it.

_Tom._ Oh, here comes the cup. Look out, Jerry.

CRIBB’S PARLOUR.[32]

[Illustration]

_Enter_ WAITER, _with the Champion’s Cup_.

Come, Tom--I pledge you. (_Cribb drinks; the Cup is passed_).

_Jerry._ Well, this is the pleasantest way of cupping a man I ever heard

of--but come, Bob, give us a song.

_Log._ With all my heart, only let me sluice my whistle first.

SONG.--LOGIC. AIR.--“_Such a beauty I did grow._”

_Oh, when I was a little boy,

Some thirty years ago;

I prov’d such an anointed one,

They made me quite a show._

CHORUS.--_Such a knowing one I did grow._

_At tea I stole the sugar,

And I slyly pinched the girls;

I roasted mammy’s parrot,

Shod the cat in walnut shells.

Such a knowing, &c._

_At school I play’d the truant,

And would robbing orchards go;

I burned my master’s cane and rod,

And tore the fools’-cap, too.

Such a knowing, &c._

_As I learnt nought but mischief there,

To College I was sent,

Where I learn’d to game and swear,

On fun and frolic bent.

Such a knowing, &c._

_In town I mill’d the Charlies,

Aim’d at all within the ring;

Became one of the fancy,

And was up to everything.

Such a knowing, &c._

_Jerry._ Bravo!--but, zounds! Tom, Tom! what are you musing so

profoundedly about?

_Tom._ I was thinking about the women, Jerry; those enchanting girls we

danced with a Almack’s--could they be the incognitas that challenged us

thither? There is some secret charm about those girls that hasn’t allowed

me to rest all night.

_Jerry._ Well, and do you know, Tom, to tell you the truth, I haven’t been

a whit better than yourself. But, I say, only see how confoundedly the

dustman’s getting hold of Logic,--we’ll funk him. (_Tom and Jerry smoke

Logic_).

_Log._ Oh, hang your cigars, I don’t like it; let’s have no funking.

_Tom._ Well, come, come, rouse up; don’t be crusty, Bob--let’s start on

some spree; no doubt we shall spring a lark somewhere. (_Rattles heard_).

There’s one! go it, Jerry!--Come, Green.

_Log._ Aye, come, Jerry, there’s the Charlies’ fiddles going.

_Jerry._ Charlie’s fiddles!--I’m not fly, Doctor.

_Log._ Rattles, Jerry, rattles! you’re fly now, I see. Come along, Tom! Go

it, Jerry! _Exit._

NIGHT SCENE.--TOM AND JERRY UPSETTING THE CHARLIES.

[Illustration]

Hark! the watchman springs his rattle,

Now the midnight’s lark begun;

Boxes crashing, lanthorns smashing,

Mill the Charlies--oh! what fun.

Pigs are hauling, girls are bawling,

Wretch, how durst you bang me so,

My sconce you’ve broken--for your joking,

You shall to the watch-house go.

SCENE.--_The City side of Temple Bar, by Moonlight. Watchbox--Watchmen

crying the hour at different parts of the stage._

_Enter drunken_ BUCK.

_Buck._ Steady! steady!--now where shall I go?--I think I’ll go strait

home. (_Reels_). No, I won’t! I’ll go where I think proper--I’ll go out

again--I’ll go--where I like.

(_Exit._)

_Enter_ GAS-LIGHT MAN, _who lights the Lamp_.

SONG.--GAS.

AIR.--“_I’m Jolly Dick the Lamplighter._”

_I’m saucy Jack, the gas-light man,

I put the prigs to rout;

For where I light do all they can,

They’re sure to be found out.

Your beaks and traps are fools to me,

For in the darkest night;

’Tis I that lets the people see,

And bring their tricks to light._

(_Exit_)

[Illustration]

THE CITY WATCHMAN.

_Enter_ O’BOOZLE.--CHAUNT.

_Past twelve o’clock--a moon-light night!

Past twelve o’clock--and the stars shine bright!

Past twelve o’clock--your doors are all fast like you!

Past twelve o’clock--and I’ll soon be fast too!_

[Illustration]

_Re-enter_ BUCK.

_Buck._ Past two did you say, Watchey? didn’t think it had been half so

late--I think it’s time for me to go home to bed.

_O’Booz._ Why, yes, I thinks as how it is, Sir--you’ve been taking a

little too much refreshment--steady! steady! hold up, Sir,

(_Pretends to assist him, and picks his pocket of his handkerchief_).

_Buck._ Good night, old Clockey. (_Reels off_).

_O’Booz._ Good night, Sir--take care nobody robs your honour. Why, the

gentleman’s left his vipe behind him, and I musn’t go off my beat to give

it him: how unfortinate--I’ll call him back! Sir, Sir. (_Whispers_). Bless

my soul how wery deaf that ere gentlemen is!--well I must take care of it

for him till he calls again!--I don’t know what would become of these here

young chaps if it wasn’t for such old coveys as we are--Oh, here comes

that cursed Gas!

_Re-enter_ GAS.

_Gas._ Well, Watchey, and what have you to say about the gas? Eh?

_O’Booz._ Why, that you have been the ruin of our calling--that’s all!

_Gas._ Pooh! pooh! nonsense! I only throw a light upon the abuses of it.

(_Pushes by O’Boozle_).

_O’Booz._ Hollo! you had better mind what you are at with your Jacob, or I

shall just-- (_Sounds rattle_).

_Gas._ Come, come, silence your coffee-mill.

_O’Booz._ What I’ve got to say is this--yes, the matter of the business is

this here:--Since you sprung up, my beat a’nt worth having--I havn’t had a

broken head for these ten days past, and there’s no such thing as picking

up a couple of sweethearts now--why there isn’t a dark corner in the whole

parish.

_Gas._ No more there should be. Folks have been kept a little too long in

the dark.

_O’Booz._ Have they.

_Gas._ But good night, for I suppose as how you won’t stand a drop o’

nothin’, old Bacon-face?

_O’Booz._ No, I suppose I von’t stand a drop of nothing! young

Calf’s-head? (_Exit Gas singing, “I’m saucy Jack” &c_).

_O’Booz._ I think I’ve given him his change. Well I don’t see the use of

kicking my heels about here,--people’s clocks can tell them the time, just

as well as I can, I’m sure! and a great deal better, if they knew all! so

I shall go into my box, after I’ve called the half-hour, and have a

regular snooze. It looks damned cloudy too.

CHAUNT.

_Half-past twelve--and a cloudy morning.

Half-past twelve--mind, I give you warning,

Half-past twelve--now I’m off to sleep!

And the morning soon my watch will keep!_

(_Goes into box and falls asleep_).

[Illustration]

TOM, JERRY, AND LOGIC IN A ROW.

[Illustration]

Mercy! what a din and clatter

Breaks the stillness of the night,

Lamps do rattle--’tis a battle,

Quick, and let us see the sight.

Old and young at blows like fury,

Tom and Jerry leads the row,

Milling, flooring all before them,

This is Life in London, boys.

_Enter_ KATE _and_ SUE _disguised as two young bucks_.

_Kate._ Well, here we are, just before them--and now to cure them of their

love and rambling it must be our plan to involve them in all the scrapes

we can, we shall never have a better opportunity.

_Sue._ No, ’tis now the very witching hour of night, as Shakspere says.

SONG.--KATE.

AIR.--“_Ackee oh! Ackee oh!_”

_When the moon o’er Temple Bar

Glimmers slow, and gaslights glow;

And locked in sleep, grave big wigs are

Snoring sound asleep._

_We for pleasure gaily run,

Full of frolic, full of fun;

Whisking oh! frisking oh!

To pick up a beau._

_Sue._ Stand aside, my dear Kate, I see occasion for our being active

here! If I may trust my eyes, yonder comes a lovely girl--I must have some

sport with her.

_Enter_ MRS. TARTAR.

_Mrs. T._ There, I’ve shut up the shop, and as it’s Mr. Tartar’s turn to

sit as constable of the night, I’ll just take him the street-door key, and

then he can let himself in when he pleases--I hope the dear man won’t be

long.

_Kate._ Never mind, ma’am, if he should be--anything in my power----

_Mrs. T._ Keep your distance, sir--I’ll call the watch.

_Sue._ Nay, but my dear madam, when beauty like yours is neglected, it is

the duty of every man. (_Kisses her_).

_Mrs. T._ Don’t take liberties, sir.

_Kate._ I wouldn’t take liberties for the world. (_Kisses her_).

_Mrs. T._ Eh, I shall be ruin’d, I’ll call out--here, watch! watch!

(_Rattles heard_).

_Enter_ TOM, JERRY, _and_ LOGIC, _with Umbrella_.

_Jerry._ Ay, ay, ay, put down the rain napper, Doctor, the shower is over

now. What’s the matter?

_Mrs. T._ I’m in the greatest distress imaginable.

_Tom._ Holloa, what’s the row?--a woman in distress! Where’s the man would

refuse his assistance?

_Kate._ Who are you, sir?

_Sue._ Yes, who are you, sir?

_Tom._ What, show fight! I’m your man; (_To Kate_).

_Jerry._ And I’m your man, my little one. (_To Sue_).

_Log._ (_To Mrs. T._) And I’m your man, ma’am.

_Mrs. T._ Watch! watch! (_Rattles are heard_).

_Enter_ TEDDY M’LUSH, _an Irish Watchman_.

_M’L._ Ulloa, here! What the devil have you got a fire?

_Tom._ What do you ask for your beaver, Charley?

_Mrs. T._ Why, my goodness, watchman, you are quite drunk.

_M’L._ Eh, drunk are you,--then I’ll take care of you.

_Mrs. T._ But I want to give charge of these two gentlemen, who have

behaved in the most extravagant manner--almost kissed me to death.

_M’L._ Oh, you want to charge these gentlemen in an extravagant manner,

for almost kissing them to death, do you?--but I’ll soon put a stop to it.

_Kate._ That’s right, watchman.

_Tom._ Zounds! fellows, do you think we’re to be bullied in this fashion?

_M’L._ Oh, you’re bullies dressed in the fashion, are you?--I’ll soon take

charge of ye. (_Springs rattle--it is answered without_, R. _and_ L).

_Tom._ A surprise! I’ll make sure of this fellow, at all events. Now,

Jerry, I’ll show you how to box a Charley.

_Log._ Stop, my boys, secure your tattlers. (_They put up their watches_).

_Tom._ Now, go it, Jerry,--can you play at cricket?

_Jerry._ Yes, Tom.

_Tom._ Then catch--here’s the gentleman’s toothpicker, and here’s his

glim. (_Throw stick and lanthorn to Jerry_).

_Tom upsets O’Boozle’s box.--enter Watchmen.--General row--Rattles--Logic

fights M’Lush.--Kate, Mrs. Turtar and Sue, run off.--Green enters with a

bloody nose and two watchmen; he runs off.--Jerry fights with three

watchmen.--Tom fights with three watchmen, floors them._

CHORUS. (_Omnes_).

AIR.--_From the Spectacle of “Don Juan.”_

_Watch! watch! watch! Lord how they’re bawling!

Catch! catch! catch! That’s if you can.

Scratch! scratch! scratch! Pulling and hauling--

Wretch! wretch! wretch! You are the man.

Patch! patch! patch! Lots of heads breaking!

Fetch! fetch! fetch! The constable, John.

Match! match! match! Match them for raking.

Watch! watch! watch! My watch is gone._

_Mill renewed.--The Women get away as before.--Tom and Jerry perform

prodigies of valour, but are at length overpowered by numbers, and borne

off.--Green enters alarmed, flies on all sides for safety, but is at

length caught up by a watchman in his arms, and carried off.--Scene closes

on two watchmen cuffing one another by mistake._

[Illustration]

TOM AND JERRY IN TROUBLE AFTER A SPREE.

[Illustration]

AND please your Worship here’s three fellows

Been hammering of us all about;

Broke our boxes, lanthorns, smellers,

And almost clos’d our peepers up.

Our pipkins broke, Sir!--’tis no joke, Sir,

Faith we’re crush’d from head to toe;

We’re not the men, Sir!--Hold your tongue, Sir,

You must find bail before you go!

SCENE.--_Interior of St. Dunstan’s Watch-house.--Mr. Tartar, Constable of

the Night, discovered at table; pen, ink, &c.--Watchman in attendance.

Noise heard without.--Cries of “Charge! charge!”_

_Mr. T._ Holloa! a charge! I must get into my big chair, pull off my

night-cap, cock my wig, and look official. (_Watchman opens the door, and

is knocked down by rush_).

_Enter_ TOM, JERRY, LOGIC, WATCHMEN, KATE, JANE, SUE, MRS. TARTAR,

O’BOOZLE, _and_ M’LUSH, _very uproariously_. MRS. TARTAR _makes signs to_

MR. TARTAR.

_Omnes._ Mr. Constable! Mr. Constable--Please your worship, this

man!--this woman!

_Mr. T._ Silence! silence!--Eh, the devil! Sally Tartar, my wife!--and

winking at me not to take any notice.

_Omnes._ Please your worship--I--I----

_Mr. T._ Silence! silence! Watchman, do you speak first.

_Mrs. T._ (_aside to Tom_). Be quiet--I’ll soon turn the tables.

_M’L._ Plaise your honour, I have brought before your worship a most

notorious substitute and common street talker, who, for her foul doings,

has been cooped up in the Poultry Compter, as often as there are years in

a week.--I caught her charging these honest gentlemen, (_pointing to Tom

and Jerry_) in a most impositious manner, and when I civilly axed her, how

she could think of getting drunk, and acting so, she called her bullies

here. (_Pointing to Kate and Sue_).

_Kate._ Zounds, fellow, you don’t mean us?

_Sue._ Why, you rascal, I’ll twist your neck for you.

_M’L._ Yes; they, your worship, who half murdered me first, and then

buried poor little Teddy O’Boozle in his box, that he mightn’t prevent

them murdering t’other half of me; och, they’re terrible desperadoes!

_Kate._ Here’s a scoundrel for you!

_Mr. T._ Silence! we’ll soon get to the bottom of all this.

_Kate._ Zounds, sirrah, we gave the charge ourselves. (_To M’Lush_).

_M’L._ Och, murder!

_Kate._ Those were the assailants. (_Pointing to Tom, Jerry, and Logic_).

_Mr. T._ This is a very intricate affair.

_M’L._ Sure, won’t I be after telling you my own story:--as I was going my

rounds quietly enough, up comes these young sparks, and gave me such a

maulagaran, that they knock’d me into the middle of next week--besides

tipping me this here black eye--only see how red it is!

_Mr. T._ I’ll soon set all to rights,--first let me hear what you have to

say to all this, woman: these are very serious allegations. (_To Mrs.

Tartar_).

_Tom._ Aye, aye, let the woman speak.

_O’Booz._ Oh, the woman will speak fast enough.

_Mrs. T._ Hold your tongue fellow.--Please your worship, it’s all false

from beginning to end--it’s he that’s drunk! nay, you may perceive he’s so

drunk he cannot even give a charge--doesn’t know one person from the

other, and can scarcely stand.

_M’L._ Plaise your honour it’s only the ague, I have it every Saturday

night regularly, what I’ve said is all true, so help me Bob,--sure, she’s

not a woman to put whiskey in a jug, and throw stones at it.

_Mr. T._ Why, you impudent vagabond you’re drunk now--instead of giving

charge of her, the good lady ought to have given charge of you,--what

business had you off your beat, and in such a situation?

_Tom and Jerry._ Aye, what business had you off your beat, old Charley?

_M’L._ They bate me off my beat.

_Mrs. T._ I give charge of him, your worship.

_Mr. T._ And I take it--off with him to the black hole.

_Tom._ Aye, aye, take him up the spout.

_Mr. T._ My dear wife! (_Embraces Mrs. Tartar_). My dear Sally Tartar.

_M’L._ His wife! Och, by the powers, then I’ve caught a Tartar.

_Mr. T._ Take him away.

_M’L._ Och, sure I’m the boy that cares for nobody--so there’s my coat,

there’s my hat, there’s my rattle and lanthorn,--and to the devil I pitch

the whole of you. (_He is carried off_).

_Kate._ They musn’t get off so easily. (_Aside_).

_Tom._ A fortunate turn-up for us, faith.

_Mr. T._ Gentlemen, you are at liberty.

_O’Booz._ Stay, your honour, I’ve got a charge. This here chap (_pointing

to Tom_) with the Roosian head of hair--he comes up to me like a warment--

_Tom._ Why, you impudent--(_Knocks O’Boozle down--a row ensues_).

_Mr. T._ Silence! silence!--be quiet all of you, can’t you?

_Kate._ Mr. Constable, I have a charge--(_to O’Boozle_). Watchman, there’s

a crown--what I say, swear to. (_Aside_).

_O’Booz._ I’ll swear to anything, your honour.

_Log._ What the devil’s in the wind now?

_Kate._ I charge those gentlemen with assaulting this young

woman--(_pointing to Jane_)--the watchman saw the whole transaction.

_O’Booz._ I’ll swear it, your worship.

_Tom._ Why, zounds, fellow, I never saw the girl!

_Sue._ (_To Jerry_). Come, sir, you can’t say you never saw her.

_Jerry._ Why I have a recollection of seeing her somewhere, though I am at

fault as to the place, at present.

_Kate._ It’s a clear case.

_O’Booz._ I’ll swear to it, your worship!

ROUND. (_Omnes_).

AIR.--“_’Twas you, Sir._”

_’Twas you, Sir, ’twas you, Sir;

Your worship, it is true, Sir,

’Twas you that pull’d the girl about,

’Twas you, Sir, you._

_Untrue, Sir, untrue, Sir,

It was the man in blue, Sir,

’Twas he that pulled the girl about,

’Tis true, Sir, true._

_No, no, Sir, no, no, Sir,

How can you tell lies so, Sir?

I did not pull the girl about,

But I know who._

_Mr. T._ Gentlemen, here are four witnesses against you; and ’tis my

painful duty to commit you, unless you can find good bail.

_Tom._ We’ll give you leg bail.

_Kate._ Aye, find good bail, and mind that it is good. There’s our

card--come, watchman--Come, Sir Jeremy.

_Sue._ Good-night--Sorry to leave you in such bad company--but beauty

calls; we must obey.

_Tom._ Aye, aye, your mamma waits for you.

_Log._ Go and get a pennyworth of elycampane.

_Jerry._ There’s a pair of men-milliners--I say; go home and sleep under

the counter.

(_Exeunt Sue, Kate, and watchmen_).

[Illustration]

TOM AND JERRY AMONG THE “SWELL BROAD COVES.”

[Illustration]

At St. James’s they dine, when, flushed with new wine,

To the Gaming Tables they reel,

Where blacklegs and sharps, often gammon the flats,

As their pockets do presently feel.

Success at first Jerry delighted,

But ere the next morning he found

That his purse was most cleverly lighted

Of nearly Five Thousand Pounds.

SCENE.--_Interior of a fashionable Hell at the West-end of the Town; a

large looking-glass in the flat._

_Enter_ GROOM PORTER _and_ MARKERS.

_G. Porter._ Come, lads, bustle about; play will soon begin--some of the

Pigeons are here already, the Greeks will not be long following.

_Enter_ KATE, SUE, TRIFLE, _and_ GREEN, _the latter with a large patch on

his nose_.

_Kate._ Assist us in this, my dear Trifle, and we ask no more.--The card

we left at the Watchhouse will soon bring our sparks to demand

satisfaction,--you and Green must act the parts of conciliators, and

propose to end the affair in a game of cards; the insight you have given

Green and us into all the arcana of play, will enable us, with the aid of

the servant, to fleece them to admiration; thus we may pursue our plan,

and cure them of this first of vices of Life in London, gaming! and save

their fortune from those who may play for a less disinterested stake.

_Trifle._ I’faith you ought to be very much obliged to me, girls, _pan_

hanour, for letting Green into the secret,--it cost me fiteen cool

thousands, demme! but I’ll assist you.--Green, my dear fa-e-llow, take

your post near the glass while they’re playing; and, by the number of

fingers you hold up, we shall easily know how many honours they have, and

every other particular.

_Green._ Vith the greatest of pleasure.--I suppose I may hold up my thumb

as well as my fingers, may’nt I--because they may have five honours? you

know!

_Sue._ Oh, certainly, Mr. Green--Ah, man, vain glorious man, how easily

art thou duped?

_Trifle._ They come, you must mind your eye, pan hanour, Green.

_Green._ Oh, you shall find me quite avake--I’m glad I got avay and vas’nt

taken to the vatchouse; I was forc’d to give half-a-crown though.

_Enter_ TOM, JERRY, _and_ LOGIC.

_Tom._ Where is this Sir Jeremy Brag? Oh, here you are, Sir--well met.

_Trifle._ Ah, my dear Tom, how are you?

_Green._ My dear Corinthian, how do you do? I’m glad they didn’t put you

in the black ’ole.

_Tom._ Excuse me a moment, Green, I have an affair with this gentleman

that will not admit of a moment’s delay.

_Trifle._ What, my friend, Brag,--honest Sir Jeremy? You musn’t hurt him,

he’s a cursed good fellow.--It must be some mistake.

_Green._ Yes, it must be some mistake.

_Kate._ Entirely a mistake, I assure you--I’m extremely sorry, if that

will give you any satisfaction.

_Tom._ Oh, if you apologize, I’m satisfied; otherwise nothing would have

done, but Chalk Farm! pistols! half-past six! pooh!

_Log._ That’s the time of day my flower.

_Green._ Vell, I’m glad it’s settled without bloodshed--Chalk Farm!

pistols! half-past six, and pooh!

_Jerry._ (_to Green_). Sorry to see your nose in mourning, Green--here,

Waiter, take my hat. (_Gives waiter the Charley’s old beaver to take care

of, who brushes it up ironically, and takes it off_).

_Green._ What say you to burying all differences in a friendly game of

vhist? Trifle and I vill cut out.

_Trifle._ Yes; it’s too great an exertion for me to play, _pan

han-our_--I’m only scarcely endurable to the fatigue of looking on,

_r-e-a-l-y_.

_Tom._ A rubber at whist? I have no objection,

_Jerry._ Nor I--you’ll not find me at fault here, coz--no one is better

skilled in the mystery of the odd trick, than I am, I flatter myself.

_Trifle._ (_To Tom_). Well you and your country friend can pair with Sir

Jeremy and the Captain, and this worthy vegetable, Green, and I will see

fair play, _pan ha_nour.

(_Kate, Sue, Tom and Jerry sit down to cards; Trifle and Green stand

behind them, overlooking Tom’s and Jerry’s hand_).

_Log._ (_Drinking and looking on_). They’ll be done, as sure as my name is

Logic.--Upon that suit some of the best judges in London have been

had.--Inviting a man to a swell dinner, and making him pay five guineas a

mouthful for it afterwards, is no new feature of Life in London--Go it, ye

flats--“_Thus for men the women fair_,” (_singing_). Why, there’s that

fellow giving the office to his pal now: well it’s no business of mine. Go

it my pippins--what, Tom, have you got the uneasiness?--“_What is beauty

but a bait._” (_Sings again_).

_Tom._ (_Rising and throwing down cards_). Oh, if you can’t play better

than that, Jerry, we’d better do nothing at all!

_Log._ (_Singing_). “_Oft repented when too late._”

_Jerry._ Who can play while the Doctor’s singing?

_Log._ I knew how it would be--did you hear anything knock, Tom?

_Jerry._ (_Walks about, and, by mistake, takes Logic’s hat_). Damn the

cards!

_Sue._ (_To Jerry_). Come, sir, never be downhearted, bad luck now, better

another time.

_Jerry._ Indeed! I’m not going to try, though.

_Kate._ Very sorry, Mr. Corinthian--shall be happy to give you your

revenge some other evening!

_Log._ Well, Tom, are you clean’d out?

_Tom._ Clean’d out! both sides; look here--pockets to let!--here have been

two playing four; and we have stood the nonsense in prime style.

_Log._ Well, don’t grumble--every one must pay for his learning--and you

wouldn’t bilk the schoolmaster, would you? But come, I’m getting merry; so

if you wish for a bit of good truth, come with me, and let’s have a dive

among the Cadgers in the Back Slums, in the Holy Land.

_Jerry._ Back Slums--Holy Land!--I’m at fault again.

_Log._ Why, among the beggars in Dyot Street, St. Giles’s.

_Tom._ Beggars! ah, we shall be very good figures for the part. (_Turning

out his pockets_).

_Log._ We must masquerade it there.

_Kate._ (_To Sue, aside_). And so must we--come, Trifle,

[_Exeunt Omnes._

[Illustration: _Billy Waters, Soldier Suke, Ragged Dick, Little Jemmy._]

There’s a difference between a beggar and a queen,

And the reason I’ll tell you why;

A queen cannot swagger, not get drunk like a beggar

Nor be half so happy as I,--as I.

SCENE--_Back Slums in the Holy Land._

MR. JENKINS, SOLDIER SUKE, DINGY BET, LITTLE JEMMY, CREEPING JACK, RAGGED

DICK, _and other well-known Characters discovered_.

SONG.--MR. JENKINS.

AIR.--“_It was one Frosty Morning._”

_Cadgers make holiday,

Hey, for the maunder’s joys,

Let pious ones fast and pray,

They save us the trouble, my boys._

_On the best peck and booze we’ll live,

’Tis fit we their blunt should spend;

For what to us they give,

Tenfold to the saints they lend.

Rumpti bumpti bay, &c._

_With our doxies, great as a Turk,

We taste all life can give;

For who but a slave would work,

When he like a prince might live?

Then lustily call away,

Cadgers keep up the ball,

Never mind what’s to pay,

The public pays for all.

Rumpti, bumpti bay, &c._

(_Omnes Chorus the burthen of the Song--dancing grotesquely_).

_Omnes._ Ha! ha! ha! (_Billy heard without_). Eh! stand aside--here comes

Billy Waters.

_Enter_ BILLY WATERS, _dancing_.

_Billy._ Ah; how do you do, my darley? How you do, Massa Jenkins?--I drink

with you. (_Drinks deep: Jenkins takes the pot away_).--And you Massa

Jack, I drink wid you, too. (_To Creeping Jack_).--Your helt,--your good

helt, ladies! (_Jack takes pot away_).

_Jack._ I say, Billy, you’re biting your name in it.

_Billy._ Yes, me likes to bite my name in such goot stuff as that.

_Mr. J._ Gemman, let’s purceed to business--I’ve got to inform you o’

summat.

_Jack._ Vat’s that ’ere?

_Mr. J._ Vy, that ’ere, is this ’ere--I begs to obsarve that the time is

come when you may all consider yourselves independent gemmen; for if

business should fail, you can at any time retire on a pension now.

_Jack._ As how?

_Mr. J._ As how? Vy, this as how. The Mende-_city_ Society, I believe they

call themselves, have kindly purwided a fund for us gemmen; so, if anybody

offers you less nor a mag, or a duece, vy, you may say with the poet, “Who

vou’d his farthings bear? ven he himself might his quivetus make vith a

bare Bodkin.”

_Omnes._ Bravo!

_Billy._ Dat dam goot--me like dat!--that Bodkin has dam goot point!

_Mr. J._ It was but t’other day they took’d me up; slapp’d a pick-ax

into one of my mauleys, and shov’d a shovel into t’other, and told me to

vork--says I, gemmen, I cant’t vork, cause vy, I’m too veak--so they guv’d

me two bob, and I bolted!

_Beggar._ You did quite right; vell, vile I can get fifteen bob a day by

gammoning a maim, the devil may vork for me. If any lady or gemmen is

inclined for a dance, I’ll nash my arm-props in a minute. (_Throws down

his crutches_).

_Billy._ An I play you de tune in de key of de X, Y, Z.

_Jack._ We haven’t had a better job a long vile nor the shabby genteel

lay. That, and the civil rig, told in a pretty penny--Come, here’s the

ould toast, “Success to Cadging.”

_Omnes._ (_Drinking_). Success to Cadging.

_Mr. J._ Does any gemman understand these here Tread Mills that have got

such a footing?

_Jack._ Silence! Gemmen:--I’m a-going to make a hobservation: Mr. Jenkins

means them there Mills as makes you vork vether there’s any vork or no--I

can only say this here, gemmens, if them there mills are encouraged, it

von’t be vorth no body’s vile to exercise vone’s calling--because, vy, von

may as vell go and vork for one’s living at once--but the subject von’t

bear not no thinking on.

_Omnes._ Not by no means. (_General groans_).

_Billy._ Oh, curse a de tread mill, me no like a de “here we go up, up,

up,” and “down you go down, down, down,” an if you no work, a great lump

of wood come and knock you down so--(_Striking Beggar on head, with

fiddle, who falls down_).

_Beggar._ Oh! he has split my Jemmy!

_Billy._ (_Picking him up_). Poor fellow, him werry sorry, so dere no harm

done. Gemman of de Noah Ark Society, as Little Jemmy here is no starter, I

move he be put in de chair a-top o’ de table.

_Omnes._ Bravo! Jemmy in the chair. (_Jemmy is put on the table_).

_Mr. J._ Silence for the cheer.

_Jemmy._ Gemman, I shall return thanks--here’s all your jolly good

healths, and success to flat catching.

_Omnes._ Bravo! bravo!

SONG.--MR. JENKINS, _and barking chorus of Beggars_.

AIR.--_Bow, Wow, Wow._

_That all men are beggars, ’tis very plain to see,

Tho’ some they are of lowly, and some they are of high degree;

Your ministers of state will say, they never will allow

That kings from subjects beg, but that you know is all bow wow.

Bow wow, wow! fol lol, &c._

_Then let us cadgers be, and take in all the flats we can,

Experience we know full well, my boys, it is that makes the man;

And for experience all should pay, that Billy will allow,

And as for conscience that of old we know is all bow wow.

Bow, wow, wow! fol lol, &c._

_Enter_ KATE, SUE, JANE, TRIFLE, _and_ GREEN, _disguised as Beggars_.

_Sue._ I do not see them here yet.

_Kate._ They’ll not be long, depend on’t,--have I sufficiently disfigured

my charms?

_Sue._ Yes, they cannot surely recognise us in these disguises?

_Trifle._ Dear me, a very dreadful perfume, _pan hanour_--essence of

mendicity--I’m sorry I came.

_Mr. J._ (_To Green_). Halloa, my little ’un?

_Green._ Eh! come you a done now; you a done vith you.

_Mr. J._ Sluice your dominos--vill you?--

_Green._ Vot! I never plays at dominoes--It’s too wulgar.

_Mr. J._ Vy, then vash your ivories?

_Green._ I’ve got no hiveries to vash.

_Mr. J._ Drink, vill you? don’t you understand Hinglish?

_Green._ Eh! drink--quite a gemman, I declare.--(_While Green drinks

Jenkins dances, expectantly_).

_Ragged Jack._ I say, Jenkins has larned to dance since he’s been on the

Mill--vy Jenkins you’ll dance your calves into your shoes if you don’t

mind.

_Mr. J._ (_To Green, looking at pot_). Vy, I say, you’ve been eating red

herrings for dinner, my young un!

_Green._ I vas dry, and that’s the fact on’t.

_Billy._ (_Offering bottle to Sue_). I say, Misses, you drink, eh! my

Buckra Beaudly?

_Jemmy._ Gemman, have you ordered the peck and booze for the evening?

_Sold. Suke._ Aye, aye, I’ve taken care of that--shoulder of veal and

garnish--Turkey and appendleges--Parmesan--Filberds--Port and Madery.

_Billy._ Dat dam goot, me like a de Madery--Landlord, here you give this

bag of broken wittals, vot I had give me to-day, to some genteel dog vot

pass your door: and you make haste wid de supper, you curse devil you!

BEGGAR’S OPERA. TOM, JERRY, AND LOGIC, AMONG THE CADGERS IN THE HOLY LAND.

[Illustration]

Now to keep up the spree, Tom, Jerry, and Logic,

Went disguis’d to the Slums in the Holy Land;

Through each cribb and each court, they hunted for sport,

Till they came to the BEGGAR’S OPERA so nam’d;

But sure such a sight they had never set sight on,

The quintessence of Tag, Rag, and Bob-tail was there:

Outside of the door Black Molly was fighting.

And pulling Mahogany Bet by the hair.

There was cobblers and tailors, sweeps, cadgers, and sailors,

Enough to confound Old Nick with their din;

There was bunters, and ranters and radical chaunters,

Clubbing their half-pence for quarterns of gin.

_Enter_ TOM, JERRY, _and_ LOGIC--_disguised as Beggars, with Placards on

their backs_--TOM’S “_Burnt Out--lost my little all._”--JERRY’S “_Deaf and

Dumb._”--LOGIC’S “_Thirteen Children._” _&c._

_Sue._ Here they are--I know them in spite of their rags.

_Tom._ This, my dear Jerry, is a rich page in the book of life, which will

save you many a pound, by exposing the imposition of street mendicity.--It

almost staggers belief that hypocrisy is so successful, and that the fine

feeling of the heart should become so blunted, as to laugh at the humanity

of those who step forward to relieve them.

_Log._ ’Tis the blunt that does it--but stow magging, Tom, or we shall get

blown.

_Jerry._ Tom, here’s a group of blackbeetles--do you see those lovely

mendicants?

_Tom._ Beauty in rags--I do--Cupid imploring charity, I’ll relieve him,

for I’ll be after that match-girl directly.

_Jerry._ And I’ll chant a few words to that beautiful ballad-singer.

_Log._ And I’ll take pity on that charming beggar.

SONG OF THE CADGERS IN THE HOLY LAND.

_Come, let us dance and sing,

While fam’d St. Giles’ bells shall ring,

Black Billy scrapes the fiddle strings,

Little Jemmy fills the Chair.

Frisk away, let’s be gay,

This is Cadger’s holiday;

While knaves are thinking, we are drinking,

Bring in more gin and beer.

Come, let us dance and sing, &c._

_Here’s Dough-boy Bet, and Silver Sall,

Lushy Bob, and Yankee Moll,

And Suke, as black as any pall,

The pinks of the Holy Land.

Now, merry, merry, let us be,

There’s none more happier sure than we,

For what we get we spend it free,

As all must understand!

Come, let us dance, &c._

_Now he that would merry be,

Let him drink and sing as we,

In palaces you shall not see,

Such happiness as here.

Then booze about, our cash an’t out,

Here’s sixpence in a dirty clout;

Come landlord bring us in more stout,

Our pension-time draws near.

Come, let us dance, &c._

_Enter_ LANDLORD _with supper_.

_Land._ Now, your honours, here’s the rum peck, here’s the supper.

_Billy._ Eh, de supper! de supper! come along, (_After striking Creeping

Jack on fingers with knife_). You damn nasty dog! what for you put your

dirty fingers in de gravy? you call that gentlemans? you want your finger

in de pie, now you got him there!

_Jack._ I only wish’d to taste the stuffining.

_Billy._ And now you taste de carver knife instead! (_takes candle, and

looks at supper_). Vy, what him call dis?

_Land._ Why, the turkey and the pie, to be sure.

_Billy._ De turkey and de pie! I tink you said de turkey and de

pie,--what! de turkey without de sassinger! him shock--him wouldn’t give

pin for turkey without dem--me like a de Alderman in chain.

_Land._ I’m very sorry, Mr. Waters, but--

_Billy._ You sorry! I’m sorry for my supper, you damn dog.

_Mr. J._ (_To Landlord_). Vhat! sarve up a turkey without

sassiges,--you’re a nice man I don’t think.

_Jack._ (_To Landlord_). I tell you vhat, young man, vhen you talk to

gemmen, larn to take off your hat.

_Jemmy._ Vy there’s no lemon to the weal, nor hoyster sasse to the rump

stakes.--It’s shocking, infamous neglect, that’s vot it is.

_Mr. J._ (_To Landlord_). Vy, who do you suppose would eat rump stakes

without ayesters? I’ve a great mind to smash your countenance for

you!--You ought to have your head punched you ought!

_Jemmy._ Here’s no filberds to the Port, nor devils to the Madery, nather.

_Land._ Egad, I think there’s devils enough to it. (_Aside_). Gentlemen,

the deficiencies shall be supplied directly. (_He is hunted off_).

_Mr. J._ Hit him; he’s got no friends.

_Jemmy._ We must go to some hother tavern, if we’re neglected in this here

manner.

_Mr. J._ You may do as you please, gemmen, but for my part, I shall

certainly use some other _hotel_.

_Billy._ You perfectly right, Massa Jenkins, we must use some other

hot-hell.

_Jerry._ (_To Sue, she having attracted his attention_). And so you sell

ballads, eh?

_Sue._ Yes, Sir, three a penny; but if you like to take twelve, I’ll make

you an allowance.

_Jerry._ Oh, I’ll have the allowance by all means.

_Sue._ (_Singing_).

“_Relieve my woes, my wants distressing;

And Heaven reward you with its blessing._”

_Jerry._ Enchanting vagrant! come here, and let me bargain with you.

(_Takes Sue aside_).

_Tom._ (_To Kate, bringing her down_, C.--_in like manner_). And so you

make matches, do you?

_Kate._ Yes!--as you’ll find out by and by. (_Aside_).

_Tom._ But ’ant these brimstone dealings contagious? you little flower

of--hum-um-um---- (_Takes her up in a corner_).

_Log._ (_To Jane, bringing her down_ R.--) You’ve moved me so, that I

could bestow every mag I’ve got, you beautiful beggar, I could.

(_Knocking without_).

_Enter_ LANDLORD, _running_, L,----_Previously to which, Kate and Sue

have, unobserved, given beggars money, and entered into communication with

them pointing aside to Tom, Jerry and Logic._

_Billy._ Vat de matter, vat broke, eh? (_To Landlord_).

_Land._ Gentlemen vagabonds; the traps are abroad, and half a thousand

beadle and beaksmen are now about the door.

_Billy._ De beak! oh curse a de beak!

_Jemmy._ Gemmen! gemmen! (_Knocking on table to command attention_).

_Jack._ Silence for the chair!

_Jemmy._ Put out the lights, put out the lights, every one shift for

himself. Here, Bob, carry me up the ladder, good luck to you do, Bob.

_Billy._ Landlord! landlord, you dog! which door de beak come in at.

_Land._ At the front.

_Billy._ Vy, den carry me out at de back door, you Dick.

[_He and Jemmy are carried out.--Lights are put out--General

consternation._

FINALE.--TOM, JERRY, LOGIC, SUE, KATE, JANE, MR. JENKINS, CREEPING JACK,

_and_ BEGGARS.

AIR.--“_Zitti, Zitti--Piano, Piano!_”

_Mr. Jenkins._

_Up the ladder, softly creeping,

Let us gently steal away,

Traps without their watch are keeping,

There we’ll let the rascals stay._

_Creeping Jack._

_Traps without, their watch are keeping,

Tread softly; no delay;

Up the ladder slily creeping

Through the back door and away._

_Tom, Jerry, Logic, Kate, Sue, and Jane._

_To my arms, love, softly creeping,

To bliss we’ll steal away;

Suspense ’tis idle keeping,

Seize pleasure while you may._

_Where are you? where are you?

To my arms, love, softly creeping,

To bliss we’ll steal away,

Softly, softly; lightly, lightly; away; away! away!_

_Kate, Sue, and Jane, as Tom, Jerry, and Logic advance, attracted by their

voices, adroitly substitute Dingy Bet, Soldier Suke, and another, in the

places of themselves.--Drop falls on Tom, Jerry, and Logic, carrying their

beggarly bargains off in great exultation.--Kate, Sue, and Jane enjoying

the joke in the background._

JERRY LEARNING TO SPAR.

[Illustration]

Now Jerry’s become a fancy blade,

To Jackson’s he often goes

And to shew his skill in the milling trade,

He crack’d poor Logic’s nose.

He gloried in having a turn-up,

And was always the first in a lark,

To bang and wallop the Charlies,

And pommel them in the dark.

SCENE.--_Jackson’s Rooms, in Bond Street.--Tom, Jerry, and Logic

discovered._

_Life in London with us is a round of delight;

It is larking all day, sprees and rambles all night;

Tom, Jerry, and Logic have ever the best

Of the coves in the East, and the swells in the West;

Such pals in a turn-up, so bang up and merry,

As Jerry, Tom, Logic--Tom, Logic, and Jerry,

Ne’er was seen, since the world first by Noah was undone,

So here’s Logic’s, Jerry’s, and Tom’s Life in London!_

_Tom._ We are, indeed, a regular trio; every part well harmonised.

_Log._ Ay, all sharps! not a flat or a natural among us.

_Jerry._ I don’t think we were so very sharp last night, though, when we

suffered ourselves to be made such apes of in Noah’s Ark.

_Tom._ You are right, Jerry, we are all at fault here; instead of clasping

in my arms my pretty timber merchant--judge my horror, when on approaching

a parish lamp, I found myself hugging that duchess of the dust-hole--Dingy

Bet.

_Log._ I was served quite as badly--instead of my seraphic street

solicitor, I found myself carrying on the war with Soldier Suke.

_Tom._ Worse and worse, who did you make yourself agreeable to, eh, Jerry?

_Jerry._ I beg you won’t mention it!

_Tom._ Let’s think no more on’t; the tables were fairly turned upon us,

and we mustn’t grumble--we have now stepp’d into Jackson’s rooms to decide

the bet with Logic as to our weight; and as he has won it, let’s be

going--but stop, before we go, what say you to a bout with the foils?

_Jerry._ No go, Tom,--I’m fly--it’s a bad spec; I am not going to expose

my ignorance of fencing here--but as far as a bout at single-sticks

goes--why I have no objection.

_Tom._ Bob will accommodate; won’t you, Bob? come, Doctor, you must have a

turn--one small taste.

_Log._ No go! no, no, Mr. Somerset, you’re a downy one at that sport--it

won’t fit.

_Tom._ Positively you shall, Bob--come the least taste.

_Log._ Well, well! I won’t baulk your fancy, as you seem bent upon

sport--but mind, only one bout.

_Jerry._ No; one will be sufficient. (_They place themselves in

position_).

_Tom._ Holloa, Jerry, don’t swallow him.

_Log._ Use me gently, I’m but a green at this.

_Tom._ Now, then, come up to the scratch. (_They play; Jerry makes a hit;

Logic parries_).

_Tom._ Well stopp’d--uncommon well, Bob.

_Log._ Do you think so; but, I say, none of your chaffing.

_Tom._ Now, really--

_Jerry._ Yes, yes, he’s up.

_Log._ Hum, I don’t think it was so much amiss myself.

_Jerry._ Now, Doctor, take care of your bread-basket--eyes right, look to

your napper.

_Tom._ Ay, ay, be leary, Bob, take care of your ribs--mind your pipkin--be

down on your pimple. (_They play a second bout; Jerry breaks Logic’s

head_).

_Tom._ I say, Bob, did you hear anything knock?

_Log._ Yes; and nobody at home.

_Jerry._ Doctor! I touch’d your knowledge box there, I think.

_Log._ Touch’d it, zounds! you’ve broken it, Jerry, but it must have been

cracked before, or I should never have entered the lists with you.

Brown-paper and vinegar for one.

[_Exit._

SCENE IN A GIN SHOP.

[Illustration]

Here some are tumbling and jumping in,

And some are staggering out;

One’s pawn’d her smock for a quarten of gin,

Another, her husband’s coat.

Behold, Mr. Tom and Jerry,

Have got an old woman in tow,

They sluic’d her with gin, ’till she reel’d on her pins,

And was haul’d off to quod for a row.

SCENE.--INTERIOR OF A LONDON GIN SHOP.

TOM _and_ JERRY _taking_ BLUE RUIN, _after the_ SPELL _is broken up_.