■'J .mi, ( ' ■• . ' ¥:^:.- ^ |^^ pl/f<CH*5 NoDeL Husic-Hall AUTHOR OP ^ "vTc£ Versa" THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES :-r^^^^^ >f?>l N^rf- i, \/\^ MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC-HALL SONGS & DRAMAS. By F. ANSTEY. MR. PUNCH'S YOUNG RECITER Illustrated. Price 3s. 6d. MR. PUNCH'S Model Music-Hall SONGS & DRAMAS. From " PUNCH." By F. ANSTEY, AUTHOR OF "vice \'ERSA." " MR. PUNCH'S YOUNG RECITER," &C With. Illustrations. LONDOX : BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. Ld., 9, BOUYERIE ST., E.G. 1892. LONDON BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. I.D., PRINTERS, WHITETRIARS. PR. (3 S'Mvn CONTENTS PAGE Inteodtjction 3 Illustrations. SONGS. I. — The Patriotic 15 Illustration, II. — ^The Topical-Political 18 Illustration. III.— A Democratic Ditty 23 Illustration. IV.— The Idyllic 27 Illustration. v.— The Amatory Episodic 31 Illustration. VI. — ^The Chivalrous 37 Illustration. VII.— The Frankly Canaille 40 Illustration. 1486520 CONTENTS. PAGE VIII. — The Dramatic Scexa 47 inxstmtion. IX. — The Duettists 53 ini<sh-aiio)i. X. — Disinterested Passion . . . • • .59 lU/fstration, XI. — The Panegyric Patter 63 lUustraiion. XII. — The Plaintively Pathetic 69 Illnstratio/i. XIII. — The Military Impersonator 73 Illustration. DKAMAS. I. — The Little Crossinq-Sweeper 79 Illustration. IT. — Joe, the Jam-eater 86 IllKsfrations. III.— The Man-Trap 93 IllHstration. IV.— The Fatal Pin 99 Illustration. V. — Brunette and Blanchidine . . . . .106 Illustration. VI. — Coming of Age 113 Illustration. CONTENTS. vii PAGE VII. — Eeclaimed ! 120 IllusiratioHS. Till. — Jack Parker . . . . ' 132 Illustration. IX.— Under the Harrow J 39 Illustrations. X. — Tommy a^^d his Sister Jaxe 151 Illustrations. XL — ^The Eival Dolls 158 Illustration. XIL — Coxrad; or, the Thumbsucker 166 Illustration, [The Illustrations are hy Edward T. Lecd ; icith otJiers from '' lunch."] MODEL MUSIC HALL INTRODUCTION, Music IIall Peoprietor. INTRODUCTION, The (lay is approacliing, and may even now be Avithin measurable distance, when tlie Music Halls of the Metropolis ^vill find themselves under yet more stringent supervision than is already exercised by those active and intelligent guardians of middle-class morality, the London County Council. The moral microscope which detected latent indecency in the jnirsuit of a butterfly by a marionette is to be pro- vided with larger powers, and a still more extended field. In other words, our far-sighted and vigilant County Councilmen, perceiving the futility of delay- ing the inspection of Yariety Entertainments until such improprieties as are contained therein have been suffered to contaminate the public mind for a con- f^iderable period, are determined to nip these poison- flowers in the bud for the future; and, unless Mr. Punch is misinformed, will apply to Parliament at the earliest opportunity for clauses enabling them to require each item in e^ery forthcoming performance i{ 2 MB. FUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. to be previously submitted to a si^ecial committee for sanction and approval. The conscientious rigour with which they will dis- charge this new and congenial duty may perhaps be better nnderstood after perusing the little prophetic sketch which f oIIoavs ; for Mr. Punch's Poet, when not employed in metrical composition, is a Seer of some pretensions in a small way, and several of his predic- tions have already been shamelessly plagiarised by the nnscrupulons hand of Destiny. It is not im- l)robable that this latest effort of his will receive a similar compliment, although this would be more gratifying if Destiny ever condescended to acknow- ledge snch obligations. However, here is the forecast for what it is Avorth, a sum of incalculable amonnt : — POETIC LICENCES. A VISION OF THE KEAE FUTURE. Scene — A Committee-room of the L, C. C; Suh-Committce of Censors, {appointedy under new I'erjulations, to rej)ort on all songs intended to he sumj on the Music-hcdl Stage,) diseovered in session. Mr. Wliecdlcr {retained for tJie lUdlad-icriters). The next licence I have to apply for is for — well, (with some hesitation) — a composition "which certainly borders on the — er — amorous — but I think, Sir, you will allow that it is treated in a purely pastoral and Arcadian spirit. The Chairman (gravel jj). There are arcades, Mr. TNTRODUCTION. Wheedler, I may remind you, which are by no means pastoral. I cannot too often repeat that we are here to fulfil the mission entrusted to us by the Democracy, whicli will no longer tolerate in its entertainments anything that is either vulgar, silly, or offensive in the slightest degree. [Apinlaiisc. Mr. Wheedler. Quite so. With your permission. Sir, I will read you the Ballad. [/wv/r/.s-. ''MOLLY AND I. *' Oh ! the day shall he marked in red letter " The Chairman. One moment, Mr. Wheedler, {conferriufj icith his colleagues). ''Marked wdth red letter" — isn't that a little — eh ? liable to You don't think they'll have read Hawthorne's book? Very well, then. Go on, Mr. Wheedler, please. Mr. W, " 'Tvvas warm, with a heaven so blue." First Censor. Can't pass those two epithets — you must tone them down, Mr. Wheedler — much too suggestive ! Mr. W. That shall be done. TJie Chairman. And it ought to be " sky." Mr. W. "When amid the lush meadows I met her, My Molly, so modest and true ! " Second Censor. I object to the word " lush " — a direct incitement to intemperance ! Mr. W. I'll strike it out (Beads.) " Around us the little kids rollicked, Lighthearted were all the young lambs " Second Censor. Surely "kids " is rather a vulgar expression, Mr. Wheedler ? Make it " children^'' and I've no objection. Mr. W. I have made it so. (Reads.) ** They kicked up their legs as they frolicked" MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Third Censor, If that is intended to be done on the stage, I protest most strongly — a highly indecorous exhibition ! [MurmMrs of api)roval. Mr. W. But they're only lambs ! TJtird Censor. Lambs, indeed ! We are determined to put down all kicking in Music-hall songs, no matter wJio docs it ! Strike that line out. Mr. W, (reading). ''And frisked by the side of their dams." First Censor {severely). No profanity, Mr. Wheedler, if YOU please ! Mr. IV. Er — I'll read you the Kefrain. (Heads, Umphj.) '' Molly and I. With nobody nigh. Hearts all a-throb with a rapturous bliss, Molly was shy. And (at first) so was I, Till I summoned up courage to ask for a kiss ! " The Chairman. " Nobody nigh," Mr. Wheedler ? I don't quite like that. The Music Hall ought to set a good example to young persons. " Molly and I — witJi Iter ehaperon />//," is better. Second Censor. And that last line — " asking for a kiss " — does the song state that they were formally engaged, Mr. Wheedler ? Mr. ir. I — I believe it omits to mention the fact. But (ingeniously) it does not appear that the request was complied with. Second Censor. No matter — it should never have been made. Have the goodness to alter that into — well, something of this kind. *' And I ahvays addressed her politely as. *'Miss." Then we may pass it. il/?*. TT'. (reading the next verse). *' She w^ore but a simple sun-bonnet." INTRODUCTION. First Censor (shocked). Now reaXlj, Mr. Wlieedler, really y Sir! Mr. W. " For Molly goes plainly attired." Licensing Day. First Censor {Indignantly). I should ihvak^o—Scandalous! Mr. W. " Malediction I muttered upon it, One glimpse of her face I desired." 8 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. The Chairman. I think my colleague's exception is perhaps just a leetle far-fetched. At all events, if we substitute for the last couplet, " Her dress is sufficient — though on it She only spends what is strictly required." Eh, Mr. Wheedler ? Then we work in a moral as well, you see, and avoid malediction, which can only mean bad language. Mr. W. {douhtfidly) , With all respect, I submit that it doesn't scan quite so well The Chairman (sharply). I venture to think scansion may be sacrificed to propriety, occasionally, Mr. Wheedler — but pray go on. Mr. W. (continuing). " To a streamlet we rambled together. I carried her tenderly o'er. In my arms — she's as light as a feather — That sweetest of burdens I bore ! " First Censor. I really must protest. No properly conducted young woman would ever have permitted such a thing. You must alter that, Mr. Wheedler ! Second C. And I don't know — but I rather fancy there's a " double-intender " in that word *' light" — (to colleague) — it strikes me — eh? — what do you think? TJie Chairman (in a conciliatory manner). I am inclined to agree to some extent — not that I consider the words particu- larly objectionable in themselves, but we are men of the world, Mr. Wheedler, and as such we cannot shut our eyes to the fact that a Music-hall audience is only too apt to find significance in many apparently innocent expressions and phrases. Mr. W. But, Sir, I understood from your remarks recently INTRODUCTION. that the Democracy were strongly opposed to anything in the nature of suggestiveness ! The Ch, Exactly so ; and therefore we cannot allow their susceptibilities to be shocked. {With a severe jocosity.) Molly and you, Mr. Wheedler, naust either ford the stream like ordinary persons, or stay where you are. Mr. W. {depressed). I may as well read the last verse, I suppose : *' Then under the flickering willow I lay by the rivulet's brink, With her lap for a sumptuous pillow " First Censor. We can't have that. It is really not respectable. The Ch. {pleasantly). Can't we alter it slightly? "I'd brought a small portable pillow." No objection to that ! [The other Censors express dissent in undertones. Mr. W. *' Till I owned that I longed for a drink." Third C. No, no ! *' A drink " ! We all know what that means — alcoholic stimulant of some kind. At all events that's how the audience are certain to take it. Mr. W. ifeehly). *' So Molly her pretty hands hollowed Into curves like an exquisite cup, And draughts so delicious I swallowed, That rivulet nearly dried up ! " Third C. Well, Mr. Wheedler, you're not going to defend that, I hope ? Mr. W. I'm not prepared to deny that it is silly — very silly — but hardly — er — vulgar, I should have thought ? Third C. That is a question of taste, which we won't dispute. I call it distinctly vulgar. Why can't he drink out of his own hands ? The Ch. {blandly). Allow me. How would tJtis do for the 10 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. second line ? *' She had a collapsible cup." A good many l)eople do carry them. I have one myself. Is that all of your Ballad, Mr. Wheedler ? Mr. W. {with great relief.) That is all, Sir. [Ceiisors ivithdraw^ to consider the question. The Ch. (after considtation with colleagues). We have carefully considered this song, and we are all reluctantly of opinion that we cannot, consistently with our duty, recom- mend the Council to license it — even with the alterations my colleagues and myself have gone somewhat out of our way to suggest. The whole subject is too dangerous for a hall in whicli young persons of both sexes are likely to be found assembled ; and the absence of any distinct assertion that the young couple— Molly and — ah— the gentleman who narrates the experience — are bet^v^thed, or that their attachment is, in any way, sanctioned by their parents or guardians, is quite fatal. If we have another Ballad of a similar character from the same quarter, Mr. Wheedler, I feel bound to warn you that we may possibly consider it necessary to advise that the poet's licence should be cancelled altogether. Mr. W. I will take care to mention it to my client, Sir. I understand it is his intention to confine himself to writing Gaiety burlesques in future. Tlic Ch. A very laudable resolution ! I hope he will keep ^^' [Scene closes in. It is hardly possible that any Music-hall Managci^ or Yocalist, irreproachable as he may hitherto have considered himself, can have taken this glimpse into a not very remote futurity without symptoms of un- easiness, if not of positive dismay. He will reflect that the ballad of "Molly and I," however repre- INTRODUCTION, 11 hensible it may appear in the fierce light of an L. C. C. Committee Eoom, is innocuous, and even moral, compared to the ditties in his own rejoertoirc. How^ then, can he hope, when his hour of trial strikes, to confront the ordeal with an unruffled shii't-front, or a collar that shall retain the inflexibility of con- scious innocence? And he will wish then that ho had confined himself to the eftusions of a bard who could not be blamed by the most censorious moralist. Here, if he will only accept the wariung in time, is his best safeguard. lie has only to buy this little^ volume, and inform his inquisitors that the songs and business Avith which he proposes to entertain an ingenuous public are derived from the immaculate pages of Mr. Punch. Whereupon censure will be- instantly disarmed and criticism give place to con- gratulation. It is just possible, to be sure, that this somewhat confident ]3i'ediction smacks rather of the Poet than the Seer, and that even the entertainment supplied by Mr. Punch's Music Ilall may, to the Pmist's eye, present features as suggestive as a horrid vulgar clown, or as shocking as a butterfly, an insect notorious for its frivolity. But then, so might the " songs and business " of the perform- ing canary, or the innocent sprightliness of the educated flea, with its superfluity of legs, all 12 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. absolutely imclad. At all eycnts, the compiler of this collection ventures to hope that, whether it is fortunate enough to find favour or not with Music- hall ^^ artistes, " literary critics, and London County Councilmen, it contains nothing particularly objec- tionable to the rest of the Eritish Public. And very likely, even in this modest aspiration, he is over-sanguine, and his little joke will be taken seriously. Earnestness is so alarmingly on the in- crease in these days. MODEL MUSIC HALL SONGS. ^< The Patriotic. i.-THE PATRIOTIC. This stirring ditty — so tliorouglily sound and practical under all its sentiment — lias been specially designed to harmonise with the recently altered tone of Music-hall audiences, in which a spirit of enlightened Eadicalism is at last happily discernible. It is hoped that, both in rhyme and metre, the verses will satisfy the requirements of this most elegant form of composition. The song is intended to be shouted through music in the usual manner by a singer in evening dress, who should carry a small Union Jack carelessly thrust inside his waistcoat. The title is short but taking : — ON THE CHEAP! First J^erse. Of a Navy insufficient cowards croak, deah boys ! If our place among the nations we're to keep. But with British beef, and beer, and hearts of oak, deah boys ! — (With enthusiams.) We can make a shift to do it — On the Cheap ! Chorus. {With a common-sense air.) Let us keep, deah boys ! On the Cheap, \\Tiile Britannia is the boss upon the deep. li; MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. She can wollop an invader, when he comes in his Armada, If she's let alone to do it — On the Cheap ! Second Verse. (Affectionatcltj.) Johnny Bull is just as plucky as he was, deah hoys ! (With a hioiving icink.) And he's wide awake — no error ! — not asleep ; But he won't stump up for ironclads — hecos, deah boys ! He don't see his way to get 'em — On the Cheap ! Chorus. So keep, deah hoys ! On the Cheap, {Gallanily.) And we'll chance what may happen on the deep ! For w^e can't he the losers if w^e save the cost o' cruisers. And contentedly continue — On the Cheap ! Third Verse. The British Isles are not the Conti-nong, deah boys ! iScornfidly.) Where the Johnnies on defences spend a heap. No ! w^e're Britons, and we're game to jog along, deah boys ! {With patJtos.) In the old time-honoured fashion — On the Cheap ! Chorus. (Implorincily.) Ah ! keep, deah boys ! On the Cheap ; For the price we're asked to pay is pretty steep. Let us all unite to dock it, keep the money in our pocket, And we'll conquer or we'll perish — On the Cheap ! Fourth Verse. If the Tories have the cheek to touch our purse, deah boys ! Their reward at the elections let 'em reap ! THE PATRIOTIC. 17 They will find a big Conservative reverse, deah boys ! If they can't defend the country — On the Cheap ! Cliorus, They must keep, deah boys ! On the Cheap, Or the lot out of office we will sweep ! Bull gets rusty when you tax him, and his patriotic maxim Is, "I'll trouble you to govern — On the Cheap ! " Fifth Verse {this to he sung shreiudly) . If the Gover'ment ain't mugs they'll take the tip, deah boys ! Just to look a bit ahead before they leap. And instead of laying down an extry ship, deah boys ! They'll cut down the whole caboodle — On the Cheap ! Chorus {with spirit and fervour). And keep, deah boys ! On the Cheap ! For we ain't like a bloomin' lot o' sheep. "When we want to " parry helium,"* [Union Jack to he ivaved here. You may bet yer boots we'll tell 'em ! But we'll have the ''helium " " parried "—On the Cheap ! This song, if sung with any spirit, should, Mr. Punch thinks, cause a positive furore in any truly patriotic gather- ing, and possibly go some way towards influencing the decision of the country, and consequently the fate of the Empire, in the next General Elections. In the meantime it is at the service of any Champion Music Hall Comique who is capable of appreciating it. * Music-hall Lalinity — '' Para bell am. ''^ ii.-THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL. IN most respects, no doubt, the present example can boast no superiority to dit- ties in the same style now commanding the ear of the public. One merit, how- ever, its author does claim for it. Though it deals with most of the burning ques- tions of the hour, it can be sung anywhere with absolute security. This is due to a simple but ingenious method by which the political sen- timent has been arranged on the reversible principle. A little alteration here and there will put the singer in close touch with an audience of almost any shade of poli- tics. Should it happen that the title has been already anticipated, Mr. Punch begs to explain that the remain- der of this sparkling composition is entirely original ; any And the I'ost ! THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL. 19 similarity with previous works must be put down entirely to " literary coincidence." Whether the title is new or not, it is a very nice one, viz : — BETWEEN YOU AND ME— AND THE POST. {To he sung in a raucous voice, and with a confidential air,) , I've dropped in to whisper some secrets I've heard. Between you and me and the Post ! Picked up on the wing by a 'cute little bird. We are gentlemen 'ere — so the caution's absurd, Still, you'll please to remember that every word Is between you and me and the Post ! Chorus {to u'Jiich the singer sJiould dance)'. Between you and me and the Post ! An 'int is sufficient at most. I'd very much rather this didn't go farther, than 'tween yoii and me and the Post ! At Lord Sorlsbury's table there's sech a to-do. Between you and me and the Post ! When he first ketches sight of his dinner nienoo, And sees he's set down to good old Irish stoo — AVhich he's sick of by this time — now, tell me, ain't ijou ? Between j^ou and me and the Post ! {TJiis happy and pointed allusion to the Irish Question is sure to provoke loud laughter from an audience of Iladieal sympathies. For Unionists, the words *' Lord Sorls- bury's" can he altered hy our jyatent reversihlc method into '' the G. 0. M.'s," witliout at all impairing the satire.) Chorus, as hefore, c 2 20 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. The G. 0. M.'s hiding a card up his sleeve. Between you and me and the Post I Any ground he has lost he is going to retrieve, And what his little game is, he'll let us perceive, And he'll pip the whole lot of 'em, so I believe, Between you and me and the Post ! (Chorus.) [The hit tvill he made quite as iialpahly for the other side hy substituting "Lord Sorlsbury's," dc., at the heginnhig of the first line, should the majority of the audience he found to hold Conservative vieivs.) Little Kandolph won't long be left out in the cold. Between you and me and the Post ! If they'll let him inside the Conservative fold, He has promised no longer he'll swagger and scold. But to be a good boy, and to do as he's told. Between you and me and the Post ! {Chorus.) {The mere mention of Lord Randolph's name is sufficient to ensure the success of any song.) Joey Chamberlain's orchid's a bit overblown. Between you and me and the Post ! {This is rather subtle, 2Jerhaj)s, but an M.-H. audience ivill see a joke in it soniewJiere, and laugh.) 'Ow to square a round table I'm sure he has shown. {Same observation aj^plies here. But of late he's been leaving his old friends alone. And I fancy he's grinding an axe of his own, Between you and me and the Post ! {Chorus.) {IVe noio pass on to Topics of the Day, which ive treat in a light but trenchant fashion.) On the noo County Councils they've too many nobs, Between you and me and the Post ! THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL. 21 For the swells stick together, and sneer at the mobs ; And it's always the rich man the poor one who robs. \Ye shall 'ave the old business — all jabber and jobs ! Between you and me and the Post ! (Chorus.) (X.B. — This verse should not he read to the L. C. C. icJiO might miss the fun of it.) There's a new^ rule for ladies presented at Court, Between you and me and the Post ! High necks are allowed, so no colds will be cort, ]iut I went to the droring-room lately, and thort Some old wimmen had dressed quite as low as they ort ! Between you and me and the Post ! (Chorus.) By fussy alarmists we're too much annoyed, Between you and me and the Post ! If we don't want our neighbours to think we're afroid, [M.-H. rhyme. Spending dibs on defence we had better avoid. And give 'em instead to the poor unemploj'ed. [M.-H, ijolitieal economy. Between you and me and the Post ! (Chorus.) This style of perlitical singing ain't hard, Between you and me and the Post ! As a " Mammoth Comique " on the bills I am starred, And, so long as I'm called, and angcored, and hurrar'd, I can rattle off rubbish like this by the yard, Between you and me and the Post ! [Chorus, and dance off to sing the same song — ivith or icith- out alterations — in another iilace. A Democratic Ditty. iii.-A DEMOCRATIC DITTY. The following example, altliougli it gives a not wholly in- adequate expression to what are understood to be the loftier aspirations of the most advanced and earnest section of the New Democracy, should not be attempted, as yet, before a West-End audience. In South or East London, the senti- ment and philosophy of the song may possibly excite rap- turous enthusiasm ; in the West-End, though the tone is daily improving, they are not educated quite up to so exalted £1 level at present. Still, as an experiment in proselytism, it might be worth risking, even there. The title it bears is : — GIVEN AWAY— WITH A POUND OF TEA! Verse I. — {Introductory.) Some Grocers have taken to keeping a stock Of ornaments — such as a vase, or a clock — With a ticket on each where the words you may sec : *' To be given away — with a Pound of Tea ! " Chorus {in icaltz time). " Given away ! " That's what they say. Gratis — a present it's offered you free. 24 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Given away. With nothing to pay, " Given away — [tenderly'] — wdth a Pound of Tea ! " Yerse II. — {Containing the moral reflection.) Now, the sight of those tickets gave me an idear. What it set me a-thinking you're going to 'ear : I thought there were things that would possibly be Better given away — with a Pound of Tea ! CJiorus — ** Given away." So much as to say, &c. Terse III. — This, as being rather ijersonal than general in its aj^plication, may 7ieed some a2:)ology. It is really imt in as a gracefid concession to the taste of an average Music- hall audience, ivho like to he assured that the Artists lilio amuse them are as imfortunatc as they are erratic in their domestic relations.) Now, there's my old Missus who sits up at 'ome — And when I sneak ?fj9-stairs my 'air she will comb, — I don't think I'd call it bad business if she Could be given away — with a Pound of Tea ! Chorus — " Given away ! " That's what they say, &c. [M«tot2S mutandis. Verse IV. — {Flying at higher game. The social satire here is perhajys almost too good-natured, seeing what intolerable IKsts all Peers are to the truly Democratic mind. But we must tvalk before we can run. Good-humoured contempt will do very tvell, for the present.) Fair Americans snap up the pick of our Lords. It's a practice a sensible Briton applords. [This will check any groaning at the mention of Aristocrats, A DEMOCRATIC BITTY. 25 Far from grudging our Dooks to the pretty Yan-kee, — {Magnanimously) Why, we'd give 'em away — with a Pound of Tea ! Chorus — Give 'em away ! So we all say, &c. Verse Y. — (More franldy Democratic still.) To-wards a Eepublic we're getting on fast ; Many old Institootions are things of the past. {Philosopliicalhj) Soon the Crown '11 go, too, as an a-noma- lee. And be given away — with a Pound of Tea ! Chorus — " Given away ! " Some future day, &c. Yerse YI. — {Which expresses the peaceful proclivities of the populace with equal eloquence and ivisdom. A welcome contrast to the era ivhen Britons had a bellicose and im- moral belief in the p^ossihility of being called upon to defend themselves at some time .') We've made up our minds — though the Jingoes may jor — Under no provocation to drift into war ! So the best thing to do with our costly Na-vee Is — Give each ship away, with a Pound of Tea ! Chorus — Give 'em away, &c. Yerse YIL — (We cannot well avoid some reference to the Irish Question in a Music-hcdl ditty, but observe the logiccd and statesmanlike method of treating it here. The argument — if crudely stated — is borrowed from some advanced by our foremost politicians.) We've also discovered at last that it's crule To deny the poor Irish their right to 'Ome Kule ! 26 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. So to give 'em a Parlyment let us agree — {nationally) Or they may blow us up with a Pound of their " Tea " ! [A euphemism ivhicli may possibly be remembered and understood. Chorus — Give it away, &c. Verse VIII. {culminating in a glorious prophetic burst of the Coming Dawn). Iniquitous burdens and rates we'll relax : For each *' h " that's pronounced we will clap on a tax ! [A very popular measure. And a nouse in Belgraveyer, with furniture free, Shall each Soshalist sit in, a taking his tea ! Chorus, and dance off. — Given away ! Ippipooray ! Gratis we'll get it for nothing and free ! Given away ! Not a penny to pay ! Given away ! — with a Pound of Tea ! If this Democratic Dream does not appeal favourably to the imagination of the humblest citizen, the popular tone must have been misrepresented by many who claim to act as its chosen interpreters — a supposition Mr. Punch must decline to entertain for a single moment. iv.^THE IDYLLIC. The following ballad will not be found above the beads of an average audience, while it is constructed to suit the capacities of almost any lady artiste. SO SHY ! The singer should^ if i^ssiUe, he of mature age, and incline to a comfortable cmhonpoint. As soon as tJie hell has given the signal for the orchestra to attack the j^relude, she will step upon the stage with that air of heing hung on wires, which seems to come from a consciousness of heing a favourite of the public, I'm a dynety little dysy of the dingle, [Self-praise is a great recommendation — in Music-hall songs. So retiring and so timid and so coy. If you ask me why so long I have lived single, I will tell you — 'tis because I am so shoy. [Xote the manner in tvhich the rhyme is adapted to meet Arcadian peculiarities of pronunciation. Spoken — Yes, I am— really, though you wouldn't think it to look at me, would you ? But, for all that, — Chorus — When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, Going off into a giggle. 28 MR, PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC BALL. And as red as any peony I blush ; Then turn paler than a lily, For I'm such a little silly, That I'm always in a flutter or a flush ! [After each cJwrus an elaborate step-dance^ expressive of slirinking maidenly modesty. I've a cottage far away from other houses, Which the nybours hardly ever come anoigh ; When they do, I run and hoide among the rouses, For I cannot cure myself of being shoy. Spoken — A great girl like me, too ! But there, it's no use trying, for— Cliorus — When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c. Well, the other day I felt my flee was crimson, Though I stood and fixed my gyze upon the skoy, For at the gyte was sorcy Chorley Simpson, And the sight of him's enough to turn me shoy. Spoken — It's singular, but Chorley always 'as that efi'ect on me. Chorus — When he speaks to me, I wriggle, See. Then said Chorley : " My pursuit there's no evyding. Now I've caught you, I insist on a reploy. Do you love me ? Tell me truly, little myding ! " But how is a girl to answer when she's shoy ? Spoken — For even if the conversation happens to be about nothing particular, it's just the same to me. Chorus — When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, kc. The Idyllic. 30 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. There we stood among the loilac and syringas, More sweet than any Ess. Bouquet you boy ; [Arcadian for " hvy.'' And Chorley kept on squeezing of my fingers. And I couldn't tell hhn not to, behig shoy. Spoken — For, as I told you before, — Chorus — When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, ^c. Soon my slender wyste he ventured on embrycing, AVhile I only heaved a gentle little soy ; Though a scream I would have liked to rise my vice in, It's so difficult to scream when you are shoy ! Spoken — People have such different ways of listening to proposals. As for me, — Chorus — When they talk of love, I wriggle, &c. So very soon to Church we shall be gowing, While the bells ring out a merry peal of jy. If obedience you do not hear me vowing. It will only be because I am so shy. \]Ve have hroiight the rhyme off legitimately at last, it ivill he ohservecL Spoken — Yes, and when I'm passing down the oil, on Chorley's arm, with everybody looking at me, — Chorus — I am certain I shall wriggle, And go off into a giggle. And as red as any peony I'll blush. Going through the marriage service Will be sure to mike me nervous, [Note the freedom of the rhyme. And to put me in a flutter and a flush ! v.-THE AMATORY EPISODIC. The history of a singer's latest love — ^vlietlier fortunate or otherwise — will always command the interest and attention of a Music-hall audience. Our examjDle, which is founded upon the very best precedents, derives an additional piquancy from the social position of the beloved object. Cultivated readers are requested not to shudder at the rhymes. Mr. PanclCs Poet does them deliberately and in cold blood, being convinced that without these somewhat daring concords, no ditty vvould have the slightest chance of satisfying the great ear of the Music-hall public. The title of the song is : — MASHED BY A MARCHIONESS. The singer should come on correctly and tastefidlij attired in a suit of loud dittoes, a startliuf/ tie, and a wJiiti' hat — the orthodox costume {on the Music-hall starje) of a middle-class sicain suffering from lore-siclniess. The air should he of the conventional jog-trot and jingle order, chastened hy a sentimental melancholy. I've lately gone and lost my 'art — and where you'll never guess — I'm regularly mashed upon a lovely Marchioness ! 32 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 'Twas at a Fancy Fair we met, inside the Albert 'All ; So affable she smiled at me as I came near her stall ! Chorus — Don't tell me Belgravia is stiff in behaviour! She'd an Uncle an Earl, and a Dook for her Pa — Still there was no starchiness in that fair Mar- chioness, As she stood at her stall in the Fancy Bazaar ! At titles and distinctions once I'd ignorantly scoff. As if no bond could be betwixt the tradesman and the toff ! I held with those who'd do away with difference in ranks — But that was all before I met the Marchioness of Manx ! Chorus — Don't tell me Belgravia, c^c. A home was being started by some kind aristo-crats, For orphan kittens, born of poor, but well-connected cats ; And of the swells who planned a Fete this object to assist, The Marchioness of Manx's name stood foremost on the list. Chorus — Don't tell me Belgravia, &c. I never saw a smarter hand at serving in a shop. For every likely customer she caught upon the 'op ! And from the form her ladyship displayed at that Bazaar, {With enthusiasm) — You might have took your oath she'd been brought up behind a bar ! Chorus — Don't tell me Belgravia, &c. In vain I tried to kid her that my purse had been forgot, She spotted me in 'alf a jiff, and chaffed me precious hot ! The Amatory EnsoDic. 34 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. A SOY. for one regaliar she gammoned me to spend. ** You really can't refuse," she said, '* I've bitten off the end ! " Chorus — Don't tell me Belgrayia, &c. *'Do buy my crewel-work," she urged, "it goes across a chair. You'll find it come in useful, as I see you 'ile your 'air ! " So I 'anded over thirty bob, though not a coiny bloke. I couldn't tell a Marchioness how nearly I was broke ! Spoken — Though I did take the liberty of saying : " Make it fifteen bob, my lady ! " But she said, with such a fasci- nating look — I can see it yet ! — *' Oh, I'm sure you're not a 'aggling kind of a man," she says, " you haven't the face for it. And think of all them pore fatherless kittings," she says ; " think what thirty bob means to them! " says she, glancing up so pitiful and tender under her long eyelashes at me. Ah, the Eadicals may talk as they like^ but Chorus — Don't tell me Belgravia, &c. A rafile was the next concern I put my rhino in : The prize a talking parrot, which I didn't want to win. Then her sister. Lady Tabby, shewed a painted milking stool. And I bought it — though it's not a thing I sit on as a rule. Spoken — Not but what it was a handsome article in ii^ way, too, — had a snow-scene with a sunset done in oil on it. *' It will look lovely in your chambers," says the Marchioness ; ** it was ever so much admired at Catterwall Castle ! " It didn't look so bad in my three-pair back, I must say, though unfortunately the sunset came off on me the very first time I happened to set down on it. Still think of the condescen- sion of painting such a thing at all ! Chorus — Don't tell me Belgravia, &c. THE AMATORY EFISODIC. 36 The Marquis kept a -fidgeting and frowning at liis wife, For she talked to me as free as if she'd known me all my life ! I felt that I was in the swim, so wasn't over-awed, But 'ung about and spent m}' cash as lavish as a lord ! Spolcen — It was worth all the money, I can tell you, to be chatting there across the counter with a real live Marchioness for as long as ever my funds would 'old out. They'd have held out much longer, only the Marchioness made it a rule never to give change — she couldn't break it, she said, not even for me. I wish I could give you an idea of how she smiled as she made that remark ; for the fact is, when an aristocrat does unbend — well, Chorus — Don't tell me Belgravia, &c. Next time I meet the Marchioness a-riding in the Row, I'll ketch her eye and raise my 'at, and up to her I'll go, {With sentiment) — And tell her next my 'art I keep the stump of that cigar She sold me on the 'appy day we 'ad at her Bazaar ! Spoken — And she'll be pleased to see me again, I know ! She's not one of your stuck-up sort ; don't you make no mistake about it, the aristocracy ain't 'alf as bloated as people imagine who don't know 'em. Whenever I hear parties running 'em down, I always say : Chorus — Don't tell me Belgravia is stiff in behaviour, &c. D 2 Tile Ciiivalhous. vi.-THE CHIVALROUS. The singer {who should he a large man, in evening dress, with a crumpled shirt-front) will come on the stage 2fitJi a hearing intended to convey at first sight that he is a devoted admirer of the fair sex. After removing his crush-hat in an easy manner, and winking airily at the orchestra, he luill begin : — WHY SHOULDNT THE DARLINGS? There's enthusiasm brimming in the breasts of all the women, And they're calling for enfranchisement with clamour eloquent : When some parties in a huff rage at the plea for Female Suffrage, I invariably floor them with a simple argu-ment. Chorus (to he rendered with a ivinning j)ersuasivencss). Why shouldn't the darlings have votes ? de-ar things ! On politics each of 'em dotes, de-ar things ! {Pathetically.) Oh it docs seem so hard They should all be debarred, 'Cause they happen to wear petticoats, de-ar things ! Nature all the hens to crow meant, I could prove it in a moment, Though they've selfishly been silenced by the cockadoodle- doos. 38 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. But no man of sense afraid is of enfranchising the Ladies. {Magnanimously .) Let 'em put their pretty fingers into a7)y pie they choose ! Spoken — For Chorus — Why shoulchi't the darhngs, kc. They would cease to care for dresses, if we made them elec- tresses, No more time they'd spend on needlework, nor at pianos strum ; Every dainty little Dorcas would he sitting on a Caucus, Busy wire-pulling to produce the New Millenni-um ! Spoken — Oh ! Chorus — Why shouldnt the darlings, &c. Li the House we'll see them sitting soon, it will he only fitting They should have an opportunity their country's laws to frame. And the Ladies' legislation will he sure to cause sensation, For they'll do away with everything that seems to them a shame ! Spoken — Then Chorus — Why shouldn't the darlings, &c. They will promptly clap a stopper on whate'er they deem improper. Put an end to vaccination, landed property, and puhs ; And they'll fine Tom, Dick, and Harry, if they don't look sharp and marry. And for Kindergartens confiscate those nasty horrid Cluhs ! Spoken — Ah ! Chorus — Why shouldnt the darlings, c^'c. THE CHIVALROUS. 39 They'll declare it's quite immoral to engage in foreign quarrel, And that Britons never never will be warriors any more ! When our forces are abolished, and defences all demolished, They will turn upon the Jingo tack, and want to go to war ! Spoken — So Chorus — Why shouldnH the darlings, &c. (With a grieved air.) Yet there's some who'd close such vistars to their poor down-trodden sistars, And persuade 'em, if they're offered votes, politely to refuse ! Say they do not care about 'em, and would rather be without 'em — Oh, I haven't common patience with such narrer-minded views ! Spohen — ^No ! Chorus — Why shouldn't the darlings, &c. And it's females — that's the puzzle ! — who petition for the muzzle, Which I call it poor and paltry, and I think you'll say so too. They are not in any danger. Let 'em drop the dog-in-manger ! If they don't require the vote themselves, there's other Ladies do ! Spoken — And Chorus — Why shouldn't the darlings, &c. [Here the singer ivlll gradually retreat backwards to the rear of the stagey open his crush-hat, and extend it in an attitude of triumph as the curtain descends. vii.-THE FRANKLY CANAILLE. Any ditty wliicli accurately reflects the habits and amuse- ments of the people is a valuable human document — a fact that probably accounts for the welcome which songs in the following style invariably receive from Music-hall audiences generally. If — Mr. Punch presumes — they conceived such pictures of their manner of spending a holiday to be unjustly or incorrectly drawn in any way, they would protest strongly against being so grossly misrepresented. As they do nothing of the sort, no apology can be needed for the following effusion, which several ladies now adorning the Music-hall stage could be trusted to render with immense effect. The singer should be young and charming, and attired as simply as possible. Simplicity of attire imparts additional piquancy to the words : — THE POOR OLD 'ORSE. "VYe 'ad a little outing larst Sunday arternoon ; And sech a jolly lark it was, I shan't forget it soon ! We borrered an excursion van to take us down to Kew, And — oh, we did enjoy ourselves ! I don't mind telling you, [This to the ChefcVOrcJicstre, ivho will assume a polite interest. [Here a little spoken interlude is customary, Mr. P. does not venture to do more than indicate this by a synopsis, the details can he filled in according to the taste and fancy of THE FRANKLY CANAILLE. 41 the fair artiste : — " Yes, ice did \ive a time, I can assure yer." The party : " Me and Jimmy 'Opkins ; " old " Pa Flapper." Asked because he lent the van. The mean- ness of his subsequent conduct. " Aunt Snapper ; " her imposing appearance in her ^^ caufy -coloured front. ^' Bill Blazer; his ^Wjirl,'^ and his accordion. Mrs. Addick {of the fried-fish emporium round the corner) ; her gentility — " Never seen out of her mittens, and cdways the lady, no matter ho2v much she may have taken.^' From this icork round by an easy transition to — Tlie Chorus — For we 'ad to stop o' course, Jest to bait the bloomin' 'orse, So Wd pots of ale and porter (Or a drop o' something shorter), While he drunk his pail o' water, He was sech a whale on water ! That more water than he oughter, More water than he oughter, Md the poor old 'orse ! Second Stanza. That 'orse he was a rum 'un — a queer old quadru-ped. At every public-'ouse he passed he'd cock his artfal 'ed ! Sez I : " If he goes on like this, we shan't see Kew to-night ! " Jim 'Opkins winks his ejc, and sez — "We'll git along all right!" Chorus — Though we 'ave to stop of course, — &c., &c. [With slight textual modifications. Third Stanza, At Kinsington we 'alted, 'Ammersmith, and Turnham Green, The 'orse 'ad sech a thust on him, its like was never seen ! 42 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIG HALL. With every 'arf a mile or so, that animal got blown : And we was far too well brought-up to let 'im drink alone ! Chorus — As we 'ad to stop, o' course, &c. Fourth Stanza, We stopped again at Chiswick, till at last we got to Kew, But when we reached the Gardings — well, there was a fine to-do ! The Keeper, in his gold-laced tile, was shutting-to the gate, Sez he : '' There's no admittance now — you're just arrived too late ! " [Sijnopsis of spoken Interlude : Spirited passage-at-arms heticeen Mr. Wm. Blazer and the Keeper ; singidar action of Pa Plapper ; " Z icant to see yer Pagoder — bring out yer old Pagoder as you're so p>roud on! " Mrs. Addick's disappointment at not being able to see the *' Intemperate Plants,'' and the " Pitcher Shrub," once more. Her subsidence in tears, on the floor of the van. Keeper concludes the dialogue by inquiring wJiy the party did not arrive sooner. An' tve sez, " Well, it was like this, ole cock robin — d'yer see ? " Chorus — We've 'ad to stop, o' course, &c. Fifth Stanza. " Don't fret," I sez, " about it, for they ain't got much to see Inside their precious Gardings — so let's go and 'ave some tea! A cup I seem to fancy now — I feel that faint and limp — With a slice of bread-and-butter, and some creases, and a s'rimp ! " [Description of the tea: — '^ And the s'rimp)s — ivell, I douH THE FRANKLY CANAILLE. 43 want to say anythinrj against the sWimps — hut it did strike me they iccre feelin' the 'eat a little — s'rimps are liable to it, and you can't iwevent 'em." After tea. The only tune Mr. Blazer could play on his accordion. Traffic end of that instrument. How the ptarty had a ''little more lush.'" Scandalous behaviour of ''Bill Blazer's yirl.'" The company consume what will be elegantly referred to as "a hit o' booze.'' Aunt Snapper ''gets the 'ump." The outrage to her front. The proposal to start — whereupon, "Mrs. Addick, ivho tvas a'-settin' on the geraniums in the ivinder, smilin at her hoots, 2c]iich she'd just took off because she said they stopped her breathing," protested that there was no hurry, considering that — Chorus, as before — We've got to stop, o' course, &c. SixtJt Stanza. But wlien the van was ordered, we found — what do yer think ? [To the Chef d'Orchestre, wJio will affect complete ignorance. That miserable 'orse 'ad been an' took too much to drink ! He kep' a reeling round us, like a circus worked by steam, And, 'stead o' keeping singular, he'd turned into a team ! [Disgust of the party : Pa Flapper proposes to go back to the inn for more refreshment, urging — Chorus — ^ye must wait awhile o' course, Till they've sobered down the 'orse. Just another pot o' porter Or a drop o' something* shorter, AVhile our good landlady's daughter Takes him out some soda-warter. 44 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. For lie's 'ad more than he oughter, He's 'ad more than he oughter, 'As the poor old 'orse ! Seventh Stanza, So, when they hrought the 'orse round, we started on our way: 'Twas 'orful 'ow the animal from side to side would sway ! Young 'Opldns took the reins, but soon in slumber he was sunk — {Tndignantlij .) When a interfering Copper ran us in for being drunk ! [Attitude of various members of the 'party, Umvarrantahle jjrocceding on the part of the Constable. Bemonstrance by Pa Flapper and the company generally in — Chorus — Why, can't yer shee ? o' coursh Tishn't us — it ish the 'orsh ! He's a whale at swilling water, We've 'ad only ale and porter. Or a drop o' something shorter. You le'mme go, you shnorter ! Don' you tush me till you oughter ! Jus' look 'ere — to cut it shorter — Take the poor old 'orsli ! [General adjournment to the Police-station. Interview trith the Magistrate on the folloiving morning. Mr. Hopkins called upon to state his defence^ replies in — Chorus — Why, your wushup sees, o' course, It was all the bloomin' 'orse ! He irould 'ave a pail o' water Every 'arf a mile (or quarter). THE FRANKLY CANAILLE. 45 Which is what he didn't oughter ! He shall stick to ale or porter, With a drop o' something shorter, I'm my family's supporter — Fine the poor old 'orse ! yilie Magistrate's view of the case. Couclucling remark that, notivithstanding the success of the excursion, as awJiole — it icill he some time before the singer consents to go upon any excursion with a horse of such hihulous tendencies as those of the quadruped they drove to Kew, ""WUM The Dramatic Scena. viii.-THE DRAMATIC SCENA. This is always a popular form of entertainment, demand- ing, as it does, even more dramatic than vocal ability on the part of the artist. A song of this kind is nothing if not severely moral, and frequently depicts the downward career of an incipient drunkard with all the lurid logic of a Temperance Tract. Mr. Punch, however, is inclined to think that the lesson would be even more appreciated and taken to heart by the audience, if a slightly different line were adopted such as he has endeavoured to indicate in the following example : — THE DANGER OF MIXED DRINKS. The singer sJiould have a great command of facial e.iyression, which he iv ill find greatly facilitated hij cmploDing (as indeed is the usaal custom) coloured limelight at the wings. First Verse {to he sung under imre u'hitc light). He {these auful exami:)les are usually, and quite iwoperly, anonymous) was once as nice a fellow as you could desire to meet, Partial to a pint of porter, always took his spirits neat ; Long ago a careful mother's cautions trained her son to shrink Prom the meretricious sparkle of an aerated drink. 48 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. lirfrain {showing the virtuous youth o-csisting temjptation. N.B. The refrain is intended to he spohen through music. Not sung.) Here's a pub that's liandy. Liquor up with you ? Thimbleful of brandy ? Don't mind if I do. Soda-water ? No, Sir. Never touch the stuff. Promised mother — so, Sir. {With an upward glance.) 'Tisn't good enough ! Second Verse. {Primrose light for this.) Ah, how little we suspected, as we saw him in his bloom, What a demon dogged his footsteps, luring to an awful doom ! Vain his mother's fond monitions ; soon a friend, with fiendish laugh, Tempts him to a quiet tea-garden, plies him there with shandy-gaff ! Refrain {illustrating the first false step). Why, it's just the mixture I so long have sought ! Here I'll be a fixture Till I've drunk the quart ! Just the stuff to suit yer. AVaiter, do you hear ? Make it, for the future, Three parts ginger-beer ! THE DRAMATIC SCENA. 49 Third Verse (requiring vioh't-tiiited dide). By-and-by, the ale discarding, ginger-beer he craves alone. Undiluted he procures it, buys it bottled up in stone. (The carthenicare hottles are said hy connoisseurs to contain liquor of sujyerior strength and qualitg.) From his lips the foam he brushes — crimson overspreads his brow. To his brain the ginger's mounting ! Could his mother see him now ! Refrain (depicting tlie horrors of a solitary debauch poisoned by remorse). Shall I have another ? Only ginger-pop ! (Wildly.) Ah! I promised mother Not to touch a drop ! Far too much I'm tempted. (Eecldessly.) Let me drink my fill ! That's the fifth I've emptied — Oh, I feel so ill ! [Jh'i-e the singer will stagger about the boards. Fourth Verse. (Turn on lurid crimson ray for this.) Next with drinks they style " teetotal " he his manhood must degrade ; Swilling effervescent syrups — "ice-cream-soda," ''raspberry- ade," Koumiss tempts his jaded palate — payment he's obliged to bilk- Then, reduced to destitution, finds forgetfulness in — milk ! 50 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Refrain {indicating rajnd moral deterioration). What's tliat on the railings ? [Point dramatically at imaginary area. Miliv — and in a can ! Though I have my failings, I'm an honest man. [Spark of expiring rectitude here^ I can 7wt resist it. [Pantomime of opening can. That celestial hlue ! Has the milkman missed it ? [Melodramatically. i'll he missing too ! Fijth Verse {in 'p(de hlue light). Milk hegets a taste for water, so comparatively cheap. Every casual pump supplies him, gratis, with potations deep ;. He at every drinking- fountain pounces on the pewter cup. Conscious of becoming bloated, powerless to give it up ! Refrain {illustrative of litter loss of self-respect). *' Find one straight before me ? " Bobby, you're a trump ! Faintness stealing o'er me — Ha— at last — a pump ! If that Httle maid '11 Just make room for one, I could grab the ladle After she has done. Tlic last rerse is the cidniinating point of this moral drama: — The miserable wretch has reached the last stage. He shuts himself up in his cheerless abode, and there, in shame fid secrecy, consumes the clement for which lie is jmiverless to pay — the inevitable Nemesis following. THE DBAMATIC SCENA. 51 Sixth Verse {All liglits doicn in front. Ghasthj green light at icings). Up his sordid stairs in secret to the cistern now he steals, Where, amidst organic matter, gambol microscopic eels ; Tremblingly he turns the tap on — not a trickle greets the trough ! For the stony-hearted turncock's gone and cut his water off ! Ilefrain {in u-hicli the 2)rofllgate is supposed to demand an explanation from tlie tu)'ncoeJ:, with a terrible denoiiment). " Eate a quarter owing, Comp'ny stopped supply." " Set the stream a-flowing, Demon — or you die ! " '' Mercy ! — ah ! you've choked me ! "' [In hoarse, strangled volee as the turncoel:. " Will you turn the plug? " [Savagely as the hero. " No ! " [Faintly, as turneoel. [Business of flinging a corpse on stage, and regarding it terror-stricken. A long pause ; then, in a whisper, — '' The fool provoked me ! {With a maniac laugh.) Horror ! I'm a Thug ! " [Here the artist will die, mad, in frightful agony, and rise to how his acknowledgments. K 2 The Duettists. ix.-THE DUETTISTS. The "Duet and Dance" form so important a feature in Music-hall entertainments, that they could hardly, with any propriety, be neglected in a model compilation such as Mr. Punclt's, and it is possible that he may offer more than one example of this blameless diversion. For some reason or other, the habit of singin<^- in pairs would seem to iaduce a pessimistic tone of mind in most Music-hall artistes, nnd — wh}', Mr. Punch does not pretend to saj' — this cynicism is always more marked w^hen the performers are of the sjfter sex. Our present study is intended to fultil the requirements of the most confirmed femule sceptic, and, though the Message of the Music Halls may have been given worthier and fuller expression by pens more practised in such compositions, Mr. Punch is still modestly confident that this ditty, with all its shortcomings, can be sung in any Music Hall in the Metropolis without exciting any sentiment other than entire approval of the teaching it conveys. One drawback, indeed, it has, but that concerns the performers alone. For the sake of affording contrast and relief, it was thought expedient that one of the fair duettists should profess an optimism which may — perhaps must — tend to impair her popularity. A con- scientious artiste may legitimately object, for the sake of her professional reputation, to present herself in so humiliating a character as that of an infjenue, and a female "Juggins"; 54 MM. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. and it does seem as if the Cynical Sister must inevitably monopolise the sympathies of an enlightened audience. However, this difficulty is less formidable than it appears ; it should bo easy for the Unsophisticated Sister to convey a subtle suggestion here and there, possibly in the incidental dance between the verses, that she is not really inferior to her partner in smartness and knowledge of the world. But perhaps it would be the fairest arrangement if the Sisters could agree to alternate so ungrateful a voir. RHINO ! First Verse. First Sister {placing three of tlic^fiurjers of her left hand on her heart, and extending Iter right arm in timid appeal). Dear sister, of late I'm beginning to doubt If the world is as black as they paint it. It mayn't be as bad as some try to make out Second Sister [a-ith an elaborate mock cuiisg.) That is a discovery ! Maynt it ? First S. {ahashed). I'm sure there are sev'ral who aren't a bad lot. And some sort of principle seem to have got, For they act on the square Second S. Don't you talk tommy-rot ! It's done for advertisement, dint it ? Elf rain. Second S. Why, there's nobody at bottom any better than the rest! First S, Are you sure of it ? Second S. I'm telling you, and I know. THE DUETTISTS. 55 The principlo tliey act upon's whatever pays 'em best. And the only real religion now is — Rhino ! [The last icorcl must he rendered icith fall metallic effect. A step-dance, expressive of conviction on one ptci^t and in- cipient ivavering on the other, should he performed hetioeen the verses. Second Verse. First S. (returninff, shaken, to the charge). Some ?(?imarried men lead respectable lives. Second S. (decisively). Well, Fve never happened to meet them ! First S. There are husbands who're always polite to their wives. Second S. Of course — if their better halves beat them ! First S. Some tradesmen have consciences, so I've heard said ; Their provisions are never adulterated, But they treat all their customers fairly instead. Second S. 'Cause they don't find it answer to cheat them ! Jlefraiii. Firsts. /What? Second S. i No, — They're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest. Second S. I'm speaking from experience, and / know. If you could put a window-pane in everybody's breast You'd see on all the hearts was written — '* Rhino ! " Third Verse. First S. There are girls you can't tempt with a title or gold. Second S. There may be — but I've never seen one. First S. Some much prefer love in a cottage, I'm told. 50 ' MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Seconds, (imtting her arms a-Jdmho). If you swallow that, you're a green one ! They'll slick to their lover so long as he's cash, When it's gone, they look out for a wealthier mash. A girl on the gush talks unpractical trash — When it comes to the point, she's a keen one ! llcfrain. First S. Then, are none of us at hottom any hotter than the rest ! Sccojid S. {cheerfuUy). Not a hit ; I am a girl myself and / know^ First S. You'd surely never give 3'our hand to someone you detest ? Second S. Why rather — if he's rolling in the Ehino ! Fourth Verse. First S. Philanthropists give up their lives to the poor. Second S, It's chiefly with tracts they present them. First S. Still, some self-denial I'm sure they endure ? Second S. It's their hohhy, and seems to content them. First S. But don't they go into those horrihle slums ? Second S. Sometimes — with a flourish of trumpets and drums. First S, I've heard they've collected magnificent sums. Second 6'. And nohody knows how they've spent them ! Be/rain . Second S. Oh, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest ! They are only bigger hypocrites, as I know^ ; THE DUETT mis. They've famous opportunities for feathering their nest, When so many fools are ready with the Ehino ! Fifth Verse. First S. Our Statesmen are prompted by duty alone. Second S. {com2)assio7uiteli/). AYhoever's been gammoning you so ? First S, They wouldn't seek office for ends of their own ? Second S. What else would induce 'em to do so ? First S. But Time, Health, and Money they all sacrifico. Second S. I'd do it myself at a quarter the price. There's pickings for all, and they needn't ask twice, For they're able to put on the screw so ! llvfrain {tofi ether). No, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest ! They may kid to their constituents — but I know ; AVhatever loft}^ sentiments their speeches may suggest, They regulate their actions by the llhino ! [Here the imir will perform a final step-dance, indicative of enlightened scepticism, and skip off in an effusion of sisterly sympathy, amidst enthusiastic aj)j)lause. Disinterested Tassiox. x.-DISINTERESTED PASSION. When a ^lusic-liall singer does not treat of tlie tender -passion in a rakish and knowing spirit, lie is apt to exhibit an unworldliness truly ideal in its noble indifference to all social distinctions. So amiable a tendency deserves encouragement, and Mr. Punch lias much pleasure in offering the follo^Ying little idyl to the notice of any Mammoth Comique who may happen to be in a sentimental mood. It is supposed to be sung by a scion of the nobility, and the artiste will accord- ingly present himself in a brown '* billy-cock " hat, a long grey frock-coat, fawn-coloured trousers, white " spats," and prim- rose, or green, gloves — the recognised attire of a jNIusic-hall aristocrat. A powerful, — though not necessarily tuneful, — voice is desirable for the adequate rendering of this ditty ; iiny words it is inconvenient to sing, can always be spoken. ONLY A LITTLE PLEBEIAN! First l^erse. When lirst I met my Mary Ann, she stood behind a barrow — A bower of enchantment spread with many a dainty snack ! And, as I gazed, I felt my heart transfixed with Cupid's arrow. For she opened all her oysters with so fairylike a knack. CO Mil. ruKcirs model music hall. Befrahi {throaiy, hut tender). She's only a little Plebeian ! And I'm a Patrician swell ! But she's as sweet as Aurora, and how I adore her, No eloquence ever can tell ! Only a fried-fish vend-ar ! Selling her saucers of wliilks, [Almost defiant stress on the uord " ultills.''' But, for me, she's as slend-ar — far more true and tend-ar, Than if she wore satins and silks ! [The f/rammar of tJie last tiro lines is shalij, hut the Lion- Comique must try to jnit up with that, and, after all, does sincere emotion ever stop to think about grammar I If it does, Mnsic-hall audiences don't — uliicli is the main point. Second Verse. I longed before her little feet to grovel in the gutter : I vowed, unless I Avon her as a wife, 'twould drive me mad ! Until at last a shy consent I coaxed her lips to utter, For she dallied with her Anglo-Dutch, and whispered, " Speak to Dad ! " Piefrain—FoY she's only a little Plebeian, ^^ c. Third Verse, I called upon her sire, and found him lowly born, but brawny, A noble type, when sober, of the British artisan ; I grasped his honest hand, and didn't mind its being horny : DISINTERESTED FASSION. Gl *' Behold!" I cried, ''a suitor for your daughter, Mary Ann ! " Ih'frain — Though she's only a little Plebeian, &c. Fourth Verse. "You ask me, gov'nor, to resign," said he, ''my only treasure. And so a toff her fickle heart away from me has won ! " He turned to mask his manly woe behind a pewter measure — ■ Then, breathing blessings through the beer, he said ; *' All right, my son ! llefraln — If she's only a little Plebeian, And you're a Patrician swell," — S:c. Fifth Verse, {The author flatters himself tJiat, in quiet sentiment and liomehj pathos he has seldom done anythiny finer tJian the tu-o succeeding stanzas.) Next I sought my noble father in his old ancestral castle, And at his gouty foot my love's fond oftering I laid — A simple gift of shellfish, in a neat brown-paper parcel ! *'Ah, Sir!" I cried, "if you could know, you'd love my little maid ! " Ilefrain — True, she's only a little Plebeian, S:c. SixtJi Verse. Beneath his shaggy eyebrows soon I saw a tear-drop twinkle ; That artless present overcame his stubborn Xorman pride ! 0)2 Mil. rumm's model music hall. And when I made him taste a whilk, and tiy a periwinkle, His last objections vanished — so she's soon to be my bride ! lie f rain — Ah I she's only a little Plebeian, kc. Seventh Verce. Now heraldry's a science that I haven't studied much in, But I mean to ask the College — if it's not against their rules — That three periwinkles proper may be quartered on our 'scutcheon, "With a wliilk regardant, rampant, on an oyster-knife, all gules ! Refrain — As she's only a little Plebeian, Sec. This little ditty, which has the true, unmistakable ring- about it, and will, Mr. Punch believes, touch the hearts of any Music-hall audience, is entirely at the service of any talented artiste who will undertake to fit it with an appropriate melody, and sing it in a spirit of becoming seriousness. xi.-THE PANEGYRIC PATTER. This ditty is designed to give some expression to the passionate enthusiasm for nature which is occasionally ob- servable in the Music-hall songstress. The young lady who sings these verses will of course appear in appropriate costume ; viz., a large white hat and feathers, a crimson sunshade, a pink frock, high-heeled sand-shoes, and a liberal extent of black silk stockings. A phonetic spelling has been adopted where necessary to bring out the rhyme, for the convenience of the reader only, as the singer will instinctively give the vowel- sounds the pronunciation intended by the author. THE JOYS OF THE SEA-SIDE. First Verse. On, I love to sit a-gyzing on the boundless blue horizing, When the scorching sun is blyzing down on sands, and ships, and sea ! And to watch the busy figgers of the happy little diggers. Or to listen to the niggers, when they choose to come to me ! Chorus (to wJiieJi the s'uifjer HJinidd sicuf/ in 2i' alt z -time). For I'm offuUy fond of the Seaside ! If I'd only my w'y I would <'/e-cide 04 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. To dwell evermore, By the murmuring shore, With the billows a-hlusteriug he-sidie ! Second Verse. Then how pleasant of a morning, to be up before the doming ! And to sally forth a-prorning — e'en if nothing back you bring ! Some young men who like fatigue '11 go and try to pot a sea- gull. What's the odds if it's illegal, or the bird they only wing? Chorus — For it's one of the sports of the ^Sea-side ! ka. Third Verse, Then what j'y to go a by thing — though you'll swim, if you're a sly thing, Like a mermaid nimbly writhing, with a foot upon the sand ! When you're tired of old Poseidon, there's the pier to pro- menide on, Strauss, and Sullivan, and Haydn form the programme of the band. Chorus — For there's always a band at the Sea-side ! &c. Fourth Verse. And, with boatmen so beguiling, sev'ral parties go out siling ! Sitting all together smiling, handing sandwiches about, To the sound of concertiner, — till they're gradually greener, The Pai^egyeic Patter. 66 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. And they wish the ham was leaner, as they sip their bottled stout. Chorus — And they cry, ** Put us back on the Sea-side ! " &c. Fifth Verse, There is j^leasure unalloyed in hiring hacks and going roiding ! (If you stick on tight, avoiding any cropper or mishap,) Or about the rocks you ramble ; over boulders slip and scramble ; Or sit down and do a gamble, playing **Loo" or "Penny Nap." Chorus — *' Penny Nap " is the gyme for the Sea-side ! &c. Sixth Verse. Then it's lovely to be spewning, all the glamour of the mown in, With your love his banjo tewning, ere flirtation can begin ! As along the sands you're strowling, till the hour of ten is towling. And your Ma, severely scowling, asks "Wherever you have bin ! " Chorus — Then you answer " I've been by the Sea-side ! " c^c. Seventh Verse, Should the sky be dark and frowning, and the restless winds be mowning. With the breakers' thunder drowning all the laughter and the glee ; THE PANEGYRIC PATTER. 67 And the day should prove a drencher, out of doors you will not ventcher, Eut you'll read the volumes lent yer by the Local Libraree ! Chorus — For there's sure to be one at the >Sea-side ! &c. Eighth Verse. If the weather gets no calmer, you can patronise the dramer, AVhere the leading lady charmer is a chit of forty- four ; And a duty none would skirk is to attend the strolling circus, For they'd all be in the w^orkhouse, should their antics cease to dror ! Chorus— kndi they're part of the joys of the >Sea-side ! &c. Encore Verse {to he used only in case of emergency), Well, I reelly must be go wing— I've just time to make my bow in — But I thank you for allowing me to patter on so long. And if, like me, you're pining for the breezes there's some brine in. Why, I'll trouble you to jine in with the chorus to my song ! Chorus {all together)— Oh, we're offully fond of the Sea- side ! Sec. F 2 The Plaintively Pathetic. xii.-THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC. A Music-hall audieDce will always be exceedingly suscep- tible to pathos — so long as they clearly understand that the song is not intended to be of a comic nature. However, there is very little danger of any misapprehension in the case of our present example, which is as natural and affecting a little song as any that have been moving the Music Halls of late. The ultra- fastidious may possibly be repelled by what they would term the vulgarity of the title, — " The Xight-light Ever Burning by the Bed " — but, although it is true that this humble luminary is now more generally called a '' Fairy Lamp," persons of true taste and refinement will prefer the homely simplicity of its earlier name. The song only con- tains three verses, which is the regulation allowance for Music-hall pathos, the authors probably feeling that the audience could not stand any more. It should be explained that the *'tum-tum" at the end of certain lines is not in- tended to be sung — it is merely an indication to the orchestra to pinch their violins in a lyizzicato manner. The singer should either come on as a serious black man — for burnt cork is a marvellous provocative of pathos — or as his ordinary self. In either case he should wear evening dress, with a large brilliant on each hand. 70 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. THE NIGHT-LIGHT EVER BURNING BY THE BED. Fii^sf Verse, I've been thinking of the home where my early years were spent, 'Neath the care of a kind maiden aunt, {Tam'tum-tum !) And to go there once again has been often my intent, But the railway fare's expensive, so I can't ! (Tum-tuTnl) Still I never can forget that night when last we met : *' Oh, promise me — whate'er you do ! " she said, {Tarn' inm-tam !) *' Wear flannel next your chest, and, when you go to rest, Keep a night-light always burning by your bed ! " {Tum- tum!) He f rain (pianissimo.) And my eyes are dim and wet ; For I seem to hear them yet — Those solemn words at parting that she said : (Tain-iMm.- turn !) "Now, mind you burn a night-light, — 'Twill last until it's quite light — In a sauc^ful of water by your bed ! " {Tum-iMm. !) Second Verse. I promised as she wished, and her tears I gently dried, As she gave me all the halfpence that she had : {Tum-iMm.' turn !) And through the world e'er since I have wandered far and wide. And been gradually going to the bad ! (Tuvi-tum !) THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC. Many a folly, many a crime I've committed in my time, For a lawless and a chequered life I've led ! (Tiim-tiim-tum.) Still I've kept the promise sworn — flannel next my skin I've worn. And I've always bm-nt a night-light by my bed ! {Tum-inm !) Befrain, All unhallowed my pursuits, (Oft to bed I've been in boots !) Still o'er my uneasy slumber has been shed (Tum-inm-tiim I) The moderately bright light Afforded by a night-light. In a saucerful of water by my bed ! {Tum-inm !) Third Verse, {To he sung zuifh increasing solemnity,) A little while ago, in a dream my aunt I saw ; In her frill- surrounded night- cap there she stood ! {Tum-tum-tum !) And I sought to hide my head 'neath the counterpane in awe. And I trembled — for my conscience isn't good ! {Tum-iwrn !) But her countenance was mild — so indulgently she smiled That I knew there was no further need for dread ! {Tum- tum-tum !) She had seen the flannel vest enveloping my chest. And the night-light in its saucer by my bed ! {Tum-iwrn !) Refrain {more piajiissimo still.) But ere a word she spoke, I unhappily awoke ! And away, alas ! the beauteous vision fled ! {Tum-tum-tum !) {In mournful recitation) — There was nothing but the slight light Of the melancholy night-light That was burning in a saucer by my bed ! {Tum-tum !) The Military Impeesonatci. ♦ xiii.-THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR. To be a successful Military Impersonator, the principal requisite is a uniform, which may be purchased for a moderate sum, second-hand, in the neighbourhood of almost any barracks. Some sHght acquaintance with the sword exercise and elementary drill is useful, though not absolutely essential. Furnished with these, together with a few commanding attitudes, and a song possessing a spirited, martial refrain, the Military Impersonator may be certain of an instant and striking success upon the Music-hall stage, — especially if he will condescend to avail himself of the ballad provided hj Mr. Punch, as a vehicle for his peculiar talent. And — though we say it ourselves — it is a very nice ballad, to which IMr. McDougall himself would find it difficult to take exception. It is in three verses, too — the limit understood to be formally approved by the London County Council for such productions. It may be, indeed, that (save so far as the last verse illustrates the heroism of our troops in action — a heroism too real and too splendid to be rendered ridiculous, even by Military Impersonators), the song does not convey a par- ticularly accurate notion of the manner and pursuits of an officer in the Guards. But then no Music-hall ditty can ever be accepted as a quite infallible authority upon any social type it may undertake to depict — with the single exception, 74 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC BALL. perhaps, of the Common (or Howling) Cad. So that any lack of actuality here will be rather a merit than a blemish in the eyes of an indulgent audience. Having said so much, we will proceed to our ballad, which is called, — IN THE GUARDS! First Verse, Fm a Guardsman, and my manner is perhaps a bit ** haw- haw;" But when you're in the Guards you've got to show esprit de corps. [Pronounce " a spreedy core.''' "We look such heavy swells, you see, we're all aristo-crats, When on parade we stand arrayed in our 'eavy bearskin 'ats. Chorus {during ivJiich the Martial Star ivill inarch round the stage in military order.) We're all " 'Ughies," "Berties," *' Archies," In the Guards ! Doncher know ? Twisting silky long moustarches, [Suit the action to the word here. Bein' Guards ! Doncher know ? While our band is playing Marches, For the Guards ! Doncher know ? And the ladies stop to gaze upon the Guards, 'Bing-Bang ! [Here a member of the orchestra will oblige with the cymbals ^ while the Vocalist performs a military salute, as he passes to— THE MILITARY JMPEBSONATOB. Second Verse, With duchesses I'm 'and in glove, with countesses I'm thick; From all the nohs I get invites — they say I am *' so chic! " [Pronounce '' cJiick.'* It often makes me laugh to read, whene'er I go off guard, *' Dear Bertie, come to my At Home ! " on a coronetted card! CJwriis, For we're '' Berties," '"Ughies," "Archies," In the Guards ! Doncher know ? ^Yith our silky long moustarches. In the Guards ! Doncher know ? Where's a regiment that marches Like the Guards ? Doncher know ? All the darlings — bless 'em ! — dote upon the Guards, Bing-Bang ! Third Verse. [Here comes the Singer's great chance, and hy merely taking a little jxiins, he may make a tremendously effective thing out of it. If he can manage to slip away hetween the verses, and change his bearskin and scarlet coat for a solar topee and kharkee tunic at the wings, it ic ill produce an enormous amount of enthusiasm, only he must not take more tJian Jive minutes over tJiis alteration, or the audience — so curiously are British audiences constituted — may grow impatient for his return. But hark ! the trumpet sounds ! . . . {Here a member of the orchestra tvill oblige upon the trumpet.) What's this ? . . . {The Singer will take a folded paper from his breast and peruse it with attention.) We're ordered to the front ! [This should be shouted. 76 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. We'll show the foe how "Carpet-Knights'* can face the battle's brunt ! They laugh at us as " Brummels " — but we'll prove ourselves " Bay-yards ! " [Noiv the Martial Star will draw Ids sioord and unfasten his revolver-case, taking up the exact pose in which he is represented upon the posters outside. As you were ! . . . Form Square ! . . . Mark Time ! . . . Slope Arms ! . . . now — 'Tention ! . . . {These military evolu- tions should all he gone through by the Artist.) Forward, Guards ! [To he yelled through music. Chorus. Onward every 'ero marches, In the Guards ! Doncher know ? All the '' 'Ughies," '' Berties," " Archies," Of the Guards ! Doncher know ? They may twist their long moustarches. For they're Guards ! Doncher know ? Dandies ? yes, — but dandy lions are the Guards ! Bing-J5rt7i^ / IRed fire and smoke at ivings, as curtain falls upon the Military Impersonator in the act of changing to a new attitude. MODEL MUSIC HALL. DRAMAS. ( \ TnE Little Chossing-Sweeper. i.-THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER. Dramatis Person.^. The LittJe CroBsing-Siceeper. By the unrivalled \ ^^^^^ ^^^^^ -^ Variety Artist . . . . • • i The Diilie of Dilhvater Mr. Henry Irving. [Specially engaged ; Mr. Punch is sure that he luill cheerfully make some slight sacrifice for so good a cause, and he can easily slip out and get hack again hetween the Acts of " Henry the 8th.'* A Policeman Mr. Eutlaxd Barrixgtox. [Engaged, at enormous expense, during the entire run of this plec^-. A Butler {his origimd part) .... Mr. Arthur Cecil. Foot-passengers, Flunkeys, Burglars, — By the celebrated Knockabout Quick-change Troupe. Scene I. — Exterior of the Duke's JSlans'ion in Euston Square hy niglit. On the right, a realistic Moon {hy hind jier- mission of Professor Herkomer) is rising slowly behind a lamp-post. On left centre, a practicable pillar-box, and crossing, with real mud. Slow Music, as Miss Jenny Jinks enters, in rags, icitli broom. Various Characters cross the street, post letters, tCc. ; Miss Jinks follows them, begging piteously for a copper, u'hicli is invariably refused, whereupon she assails them witit choice specimens of street sarcasm — which the Lady may be safely trusted to improvise for herself. 80 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Miss Jenny Jinks {leaning despondently against pillar-hox, on tvliich a ray of limelight falls in the opposite direction to the Moon). Ah, this cruel London, so marble- 'arted and vast, Where all who try to act honest are condemned to fast ! Enter two Burglars, cautiously. First B. {to Miss J. J.) We can put you up to a fake as will be worth your while, For you seem a sharp, 'andy lad, and just our style ! [They proceed to unfold a scheme to break into the Ducal abode, and offer Miss J. a share of the spoil, if she u'ill allow herself to he put through the p>antvy window. Miss J. J. {proudly). I tell yer I won't 'ave nothinkto do with it, fur I ain't been used To sneak into the house of a Dook to whom I 'aven't been introdooced ! Second Burglar {coarsely). Stow that snivel, yer young himp, we don't want none of that bosh ! Miss J. J. {with spirit). You hold your jaw — for, when you opens yer mouth, there ain't much o' yer face left to wash ! [The Burglars retire, hafied, and muttering. Miss J. leans against pillar-hox again — hut more irresolutely, I've arf a mind to run after 'em, I 'ave, and tell 'em I'm game to stand in ! . . . But, ah, — didn't my poor mother say as Burglary was a Sin ! [Duke crosses stage in a hurry ; as he imlls out his latchkey, a threepenny-oit falls unregarded, except by the little Sweeper, who pounces eagerly upon it. THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER. 81 What's this ? A bit o' good luck at last for a starvin' orfin hoy! What shall I huj ? I know — I'll have a cup of cawfy, and a prime saveloy ! Ah, — hit it ai?i't mine — and 'ark . . . that music up in the air ! [.4 Jiaiy is heard in the files. Can it he mother a-plavin' on the 'arp to warn her hoy to beware ? (AwestnieJc.) There's a angel voice that is sayin' plain {solemnly) " Him as prigs what isn't his'n, Is sure to be copped some day — and then — his time he will do in prison ! " [Goes resolutehj to the door, and hnochs — The Duke throws open the portals. Miss J. '/. If yer please, Sir, was you aware as you've dropped a thruppenny-bit ? The Duke {after examinina the coin.) 'Tis the very piece I have searched for everywhere ! You rascal, you've stolen it / Miss J. J. {hitterh/). And that's 'ow a Dook rewards honesty in tJiis world ! [This line is sure of a round of applause. The Duke {calling oft). Policeman, I give this lad in charge for a shameless attem2:)t to rob, Enter Policeman. Unless he confesses instantly who put him up to the job ! Miss J. J. {earnestly) . I've told yer the bloomin' truth, I 'ave — or send I may die ! 82 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. I'm on'y a Crossing-sweeper, Sir, but I'd scorn to tell yer a lie! Give me a quarter of a hour — no more — just time to kneel clown and pray. As I used to at mother's knee long ago — then the Copper kin lead me away. [Kneels in lime-Ught. The Policeman turns away, and ^ises his JLeindkcr chief violently ; the Duke rubs Ids eyes. The Bake. No, blow me if I can do it, for I feel my eyes are all twitching ! {With, conviction.) If he's good enough to kneel by his mother's side, he's good enough to be in my hitching ! [Duke dismisses Constable, and, after disappearinfi into the Mansion for a, mo)nent, returns witJt a neat Page's livery, which he irresents to the little Crossing- sweeper. ]\.liss J. J. (naively). 'Ow much shall I ask for on this, Sir ? What ! Yer don't mean to say they're for me ! Am I really to be a Page to one of England's proud aristocra-cee ? {Does some stej^s. JMcchanical change to Scene II. — State Ajnirtmott at the Duke's. Magnificent furniture, gilding, chandeliers. Suits of genuine old armour. Statuary {lent by British and Kensington Museums). Enter Miss J., with her face trashed, and looking j^articidarly jdtunp 171 Iter Page's livery. She ivanders about stagCj THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPEB. 83 making any humorous comments that may occur to her on the armour and statuary. She might also play tricks on the Butler, and kiss the maids — all of ivhicli will serve to relieve the piece hy delicate touches of comedy, and delight a discriminating audience. Enter the Duke. I hope, my lad, that we are making 3'ou comfortable here ? [Kindly. Miss J. J. Never was in such slap-up quarters in my life, Sir, I'll stick to yer, no fear ! [In the course of conversation tlte Duke learns with aristocratic surprise, that tlte Page's Mother was a Singer at the Music Halls. Miss J. J. What, don't know what a Music-'all's like ? and you a Dook ! Well, you are a jolly old juggins ! 'Ere, you sit down on this gilded cheer— that's the ticket — I'll bring you your champagne and your cigars — want a light ? (Strikes match on Jier pantaloons.) Now you're all comfortable. The Duke sits down, smiling indulgently, out of her icay, ichlle she introduces her popular Vocal Character Sketch, of ichich space only permits us to give a few specimen verses. First the Champion Comic Steps upon the stage ; W^ith his latest '' Grand Success." Sure to be the rage ! Sixty pounds a week he Easily can earn ; Eound the Music Halls he goes, And does at each a *' turn." G 2 84 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Illustration. Undali the stors in a sweet shady dairl, I strolled with me awm round a deah little gairl, And whethaw I kissed har yaw'd like me to tairl — Well, I'd rawthah you didn't inquiah ! All golden her hair is, She's Queen of the Fairies, And known by the name of the lovely Mariah, She's a regular Venus, But what passed between us, I'd very much rawthah jou didn't inquiah ! Next the Lady Serio, Mincing as she walks ; If a note's too high for her, She doesn't sing — she talks. What she thinks about the men You're pretty sure to learn. She always has a hit at them, Before she's done her " turn ! " Illustration. You notty young men, ow ! you notty young men ! You tell us you're toffs, and the real Upper Ten, But behind all your ears is the mark of a pen ! So don't you deceive us, you notty young men ! Miss J. J. {concluding). And such, Sir, are these enter- tainments grand, In which Mirth and ReJfinement go 'and-in-*and ! THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER. 85 [As the Duke is expressing his appreciation of the elevat- imj effect of such performances, the Butler rushes in, followed hy two flurried Footmen. Butler, Pardon this interruption, my Lord, but I come to announce the fact That by armed house-breakers the pantry has just been attacked ! Duke. Then we'll repel them — each to his weapons look ! I know how to defend my property, although I am a Dook ! JSIiss J. {snatching sword from one of the vie n-in- armour). With such a weapon I their hash will settle ! You'll lend it, won't yer, old Britannia Metal ? [Shouts and f ring without; the Footmen hide under sofa. Let flunkeys flee — though danger may encircle us, A British Buttons ain't afeard of Burgulars ! [Tremendous firing, during which the Burglars are suj)- posed to he repulsed icith heavy loss hy the Duke, Butler, and Page. Miss J. 'Ere— I say, Dook, I saved yer life, didn't yer know ? {A parting shot, upon which she staggers hack with a ringing scream.) The Brutes ! they've been and shot me ! . . Mother ! . . Oh ! [Dies in lime-light and great agony ; the Footmen come out from under sofa and regard loith sorrowing admiration the lifeless form of the Little Crossing- sweeper, which the Duke, as curtain falls, covers reverently ivith the best table-cloth. ii.-JOE, THE JAM-EATER. A MUSICAL SPECTACULAR AND SENSATIONAL INT EB LUBE. {Dedicated respectfully to Mr. McDougall and the L. C. C.) Joe! The Music-hall Dramatist, like Sliakspearc and Moliere, has a right to take his material from any source that may seem good to him. Mr. Punch, therefore, makes no secret of the fact, that he has based the following piece upon the well-known poem of " The Purloiner," by the Sisters Jane and Ann Taylor, who were not, as might be too hastily con- cluded, " Song and Dance Duettists," but two estimable JOE, THE JAM-EATEB. ladies, who composed " cautionary " verses for the young, and whose works are a perfect mine of wealth for Moral Drama- tists. In this dramatic version the Author has tried to infuse something of the old Greek sense of an overruling destiny, without detriment to prevailing ideas of moral re- sponsibility. Those who have the misfortune to be born with a propensity for illicit jam, may learn from our Drama the terrible results of failing to overcome it early in life. JOE, THE JAM-EATER. Dea:\iatis Peeson.e. Jam-Loving Joe. V>y that renowned Melodramatic Serio-Comic, Miss GoxNiE Curd LEE. Joe's Mother (the very part for Mrs. BAjSX'ROPT if slic can onhj he induced to mahe her reappearance). John, a Gardener. By the great Pink-eyed Unmusical Zuhi. Jim-Jam, the Fermentation Fiend. By Mr. Beerboiiim Teee {luho has kindly consented to undertahe the part). Chorus of Plum and Pear Gcdherers, from the Savoy [hy hind permission of IMr. D"Oyly Caete). Scene — The Store-room, at sunset icitli view of exterior of Jam Cuphoavd, and orchard in distance. Enter Joe. *' As Joe was at plaj^, Near the cupboard one day, "When he thought no one saw but himself." — Vide Poem. Joe {dreamily.) 'Tis passing strange that I so partial am To playing in the neighbourhood of Jam ! [Here Miss Cuedler 7cill introduce her great humorous Satirical Medley illustrative of the Sjwrts of Childhood, and entitled, *' Some little Gj^mes we all of us 'ave 88 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Plied;" after tvhich, Enter Joe's Mother, followed hij John and the Chorus, with baskets, ladders, de., for (jathcring fruit. "His Mother and John, To the garden had gone, To gathe^* ripe pears and ripe plums." — Poem. Joe's Mother {with forced cheerfulness) — Let's liope, my friends, to find our pears and plums, Unharmed by wopses, and untouched by wums. [Chorus sifpiifij assent in the usual manner hy holding vp the right hand. Solo — John. Fruit, wlien gathered ripe, is wholesome — Otherwise if eaten green. Once I know a boy who stole some — [With a glance at Jo^, who turns aside to conceal Ids con- fusion. His internal pangs were keen ! Chorus {virtuonshj) . 'Tis the doom of all who're mean. Their internal pangs are keen ! Joe's Mother [aside). By what misgivings is a mother tortured ! I'll keep my eye on Joseph in the orchard. [She invites him with a gesture to follow. Joe {earnestly). Nay, Mother, here I'll stay till you have done. Temptation it is ever best to shun ! Joe^s M. So laudable his wish, I would not cross it — (Mysteriously.) He knows not there are jam-pots in yon closet ! JOE, THE JAM-EATER. 89 Chorus. Away we go tripping, From bouglis to be stripping Each pear, plum, and pippin Pomona supplies ! When homeward we've brought 'em, Those products of Autumn, We'll carefully sort 'em {One of our old Music-hall rhymes). According to size ! [llej>eat as they calmer out. [Joe's Mother, after one fond, lingering look behind, follows : the voices are heard more and more faintly in the dis- tance. Stage darkens : the last ray of sunset illumines ley of jam-cuphoard door. Joe. At last I am alone ! Suppose I tried That cupboard — just to see what's kept inside ? [Seems drawn towards it hy some fatal fascination. There might be Guava jelly, and a plummy cake, For such a prize I'd laugh to scorn a stomach-ache ! [Laughs a stomach-ache to scorn. And yet {hesitating) who knows '? — a pill . . perchance — a powder ! {TJespcrately.) What then ? To scorn I'll laugh them — even louder ! [Fetches chair and unlocks cupboard. Doors fall open ivith loud clang, revealing Interior of Jam Cloi^et {painted hy Hawes Craven). Joe mounts chair to explore shelves. " How sorry I am, lie ate raspberry jam, And currants that stood on the shelf! " — Vide Poem. Joe {speaking ivith mouth full and hack to audience). 'Tis raspberry — of all the jams my favourite ; 90 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. I'll clear the pot, whate'er I have to pay for it ! And finish up with currants from this shelf . . . Who'll ever see me ? TJie Demon of the Jam Closet {risinr/ slowh/ from an im- mense pot of iweserves). No one — but Myself ! [The euphoard is lit vj) hi/ an infernal glare {courteously lent hy the Lyceum, Management from " L'anst " iiroperties) ; weird music ; Joe turns slowly and confronts the Demon with awestruck eyes, N.B. — Great oj^portunity for powerful acting here. The Demon (with a bland sneer). Pray don't mind me — I will await your leisure. Joe {automatically). Of your acquaintance, Sir, I've nob the pleasure. Who are you ? Wherefore have you intervened ? The Demon {quietly). My name is ''Jim-Jam ; " occupa- tion— fiend. Joe, {cowering limply on his chair). 0 Mr. Fiend, I hnoiv it's very wrong of me ! Demon {politely). Don't mention it — but please to come " along of" me ? Joe {imploringly). Do let me off this once, — ha! you're relenting, You smile Demon {grimly). 'Tis nothing but my jam fermenting ! [CatcJies Joe's ankle, and assists him to descend. Joe. You'll drive me mad ! Demon {carelessly). I may — before I've done with you ! Joe. What do you want ? Demon {darkly). To have a little fun with you ! Of fiendish humour now I'll give a specimen. JOE, THE JAM-EATER. 91 [Chases him round and round stage, and iwocccds to smear him hideously nith jam. Joe {jpiteoushj) , Oh, don't I I feel so sticky. What a mess I'm in ! Demon {witJi affected symjxitJii/). That is the worst of jam — it's apt to stain 5'on. [To Joe, as he franticallij endeavours to remove the traces of his crime. ■so I see you're busy I'll not detain you ! [Vanishes down star-trap with a diabolical laugh . Cuphoa rd -doors close with a clang ; cdl lights down. Joe stands gaz- ing hlanhhj for some moments, and then drags himself off^ stage. His Mother and John, with Pear-and-Plum-gatJterers healing laden baskets, appear at doors at back of Scene, in faint light of tor dies. The Demon Re-enter Joe bearing a candle and wringing his hands. Joe. Out, jammed spot ! What — will these hands never be clean? Here's the smell of the raspberry jam still ! All the powders of Gregory cannot unsweeten this little hand . . . {Moaning.) Oh, oh, oh ! 92 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. [TJiis passage has heen accused of hearing too close a resem- blance to one in a poimlar Stage Play ; if so, the coinci- dence is imrely accidental, as the Dramatist is not in the hahit of reading such profane literature. Joe's Mother. Ah ! what an icy dread my heart benumbs! See — stams on all his fingers, and his thumbs ! " What Joe was about, His mother found out, When she look'd at his fingers and thumbs." — Poem again. Nay, Joseph — 'tis your mother . . . speak to her ! Joe {tondesslg, as before). Lady, I know you not {touches lower part of waistcoat) ; but, prithee, undo this button. I think I have jam in all my veins, and I would fain sleep. When I am gone, lay me in a plain white jelly-pot, wdth a parchment cover, and on the label write — but come nearer, I have a secret for your ear alone . . . there are strange things in some cupboards ! Demons should keep in the dust-bin. {With a ghastly smile.) I know not what ails me, but I am not feeling at all well. [Joe's Mother stands a few steps from him, with her hands twisted in her hair, and stares at Jam in speechless terror. Joe {to the Chorus). I would shake hands wdth you all, were not my fingers so sticky. We eat marmalade, but we know not what it is made of. Hush ! if Jim- Jam comes again, tell him that I am not at home. Loo-loo-loo ! All {with conviction). Some shock has turned his brine ! Joe {sitting down on floor, and iveaving straws in his hair.) My curse upon him that invented jam. Let us all play Tibbits. ^Lauglis vacantly ; all gather round him, shaking their heads, liis Mother falls fainting at his feet as curtain falls upon a strong and moral, though undeniably gloomy denoument. iii.-THE MAN-TRAP. This Drama, which, like our last, has been suggested by a poem of the Misses Taylor, will be found most striking and impressive in representation upon the Music-hall stage. The dramatist has ventured to depart somewhat from the letter, though not the spirit, of the original text, in his desire to enforce the moral to the fullest possible extent. Our present piece is intended to teach the great lesson that an inevitable Nemesis attends apple-stealing in this world, and that Doom cannot be disarmed by the intercession of the evil-doer's friends, however well-meaning. THE MAN-TRAP! A THRILLING MORAL MUSICAL SENSATION SKETCH IN ONE SCENE. Dramatis Person.^. William {a Good Boy) .... Mr. Haeey XiciroLLS. Thomas (a Bad Boy) Mr. Herbert Campbell. {Who have kindly offered tlteir services.) Benjamin [neither one thiny nor the other) Mr. Samuel Super. The Monster Man-Trap . . . Mr. George Conquest. Scene. — An elahorate set, representing, on extreme left, a portion of the Itifjli road, and icall dividing it from an orchard ; realistic apple- and pear-trees laden icith fruit. Time, about four o'clock on a hot afternoon. Enter 94 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. William and TnoMAii, hand-in-liand, along road; they ignore the dividing icall, and adrance to front of stage. Duct. — WiLLLiM and Thomas. Wni. I'm a reg'lar model boy, I am ; so please make no mistake. It's Thomas who's the bad 'un — I'm the good ! Thos. Yes, I delight in naughtiness for naughtiness's sake, And I wouldn't be like William if I could ! Cliorus. Wni. Ever since I could toddle, my conduct's been model. There's, oh, such a difference between me and him ! TJios. While still in the cradle, I orders obeyed ill, And now I've grown into a aw^ful young limb ! Toqether. Yes, now -r» ffrown into a awful younfTf limb. ^ ' ( I ve j *= .-to I've made up my mind not to imitate liini ! [Here they dance. Second Verse. Wni. If someone hits him in the eye, he always hits them back ! When I am struck, my Ma I merely tell ! On passing fat pigs in a lane, he'll give 'em each a whack ! Thos. {inij^enitcnthj). And jolly fan it is to hear 'em yell ! [Chorus. Third Verse. Wni. He's always cribbing coppers — which he spends on lollipops. Thos. (A share of which you've never yet refused !) Wm. A stone he'll shy at frogs and toads, and anything that hops ! THE MAN-TRAP. 95 Thos. (While you look on, and seem to be amused !) [Chorus. Fourth Verse. Wm. As soon as school is over, Thomas goes a hunting squirr'ls, Or butterflies he'll capture in his hat ! Thos. You play at Kissing in the Eing with all the little girls ! Wm. (demurely). Well, Thomas, I can see no harm in that! [Chorus. Fifth Verse. Wm. Ah, Thomas, if you don't reform, you'll come to some bad end ! Thos. Oh, AYilliam, put your head inside a bag ! Wm. No, Thomas, that I cannot — till you promise to amend ! Thos. Why, William, what a chap you are to nag ! [Chorus and dance. Thomas returns to road, and regards the apple-trees longingly over top of wall. Thos. Hi, William, look . . . what apples ! there — don't you see ? And pears — my eye ! just aint they looking juicy ! Wm. Nay, Thomas, since you're bent upon a sin, I will walk on, and visit Benjamin ! [Exit William (l. 2 e.), u-hile Thomas j^^'occeds to scale the icall and climh the houghs of the nearest pear-tree. Melodramatic Music. The Monster Man-trap steathily emerges from long grass below, and fixes a baleful eye on the unconscious Thomas. Thos. I'll fill my pockets, and on pears I'll feast ! [Sees Man-trap, and staggers. 98 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Oh, lor — whatever is that hugly beast ! Hi, help, here ! call him off ! . . . The Monsier. 'Tis vain to holler— My horders are — all trespassers to swoller ! You just come down — I'm w^aiting 'ere to ketch you. (Indignantly.) You don't expect I'm coming up to fetch you ! Thos. {politely.) Oh, not if it -would inconvenience you, Sir ! (In agonised aside.) I feel my grip grow every moment looser ! [The Monster, in a slow, uncouth manner, 2)roceeds to scramhle vj) the tree. Oh, here's a go ! The horrid thing can climb ! Too late I do repent me of my crime ! [Terrific sensation chase! The Monster Man-trap leaps from hough to hough with horrible agility, and eventually secures liis prey, and leaps with it to the ground. Thos. (in the Monster's jaws). I'm sure you seem a kind, good-natured creature — You will not harm me ? Monster. No— I'll only eat yer ! [Thomas slowly vanishes doicn its cavernovs jaws ; faint yells are heard at intervals — tlien nothing hut a dull cliamping sound; after ivhich, dead silence. The Monster smiles, with an air of repletion. Be- enter 'WijAjIAM, from e., with Benjamin. Benjamin. I'm very glad you came — but where is Thomas ? JFwi. (severely). Tom is a wicked boy, and better from us. For on the road he stopped to scale a wall ! . . . [Sees Man-trap, and starts. \Yhat's that ? THE MAN-TBAP. -S^^J- It will not hurt good boys at all — It's only Father's Man-trap — why so pale ? Wm. The self- same tree ! . . the wall that Tom would scale ! Where's Thomas noiv ! Ah, Tom, the wilful pride of you. [The Man- trap affects an elaborate iinconscioimiess.. Up a Tree I Benj, {with sudden enlightenment), Man-trap, I do believe poor Tom's inside of you ! That sort of smile's exceedingly suspicious. [The uNIan-trap endeavours to hide in the grass, IVm. Ah, Monster, give him back — 'tis true he's vicious, And had no business to go making free with you ! But think, so bad a boy will disagree with you ! 98 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. [William and Benjamin kneel in attitudes of entreaty on either side of the Man-trap, 7vhich shows signs of increasing emotion as the song ^troceeds. Benjamin (sings). Man-trap, bitter our distress is That you have unkindly penned In your innermost recesses One who used to bo our friend I WiUiam {sings). In his downward course arrest him! (He may take a virtuous tack); Pause awhile, ere you digest him, Make an effort — bring him back I [Tlic Man-trap is convidsed hy a violent heave ; William and Benjamin hend forward in an agony of expectation ^ until a small shoe and the leg of Thomas's ixintaloons are finally emitted from the Monster's ^Vnrs. Benj. {exultantly). See, William, now lie's coming . . . here's his shoe for you ! The Man-trap (with an accent of genuine regret). I'm sorry — but that's all that I can do for you ! Wm. {raising the shoe and the leg of pantaloons, and holding them sorrowfully at arm's length). He's met the fate which moralists all promise is The end of such depraved careers as Thomas's ! Oh, Benjamin, take warning by it he-imiQ ! {More brightly). But now to wash our hands — 'tis nearly tea- time ! [Exeunt William and Benjamin, to tvash their hands, as Curtain falls. N.B. This finale is more tridy artistic, and in accordance ivith modern dramatic ideas, than the conventional *^ picture,'* iv.-THE FATAL PIN. Our present example is pure tragedy of the most ambitious Mnd, and is, perhaps, a little in advance of the taste of a Music-hall audience of the present day. When the fusion between the Theatres and the Music Halls is complete — when Miss Bessie Bellwood sings *' What Cheer, 'Bia? " at the Lyceum, and Mr. Henry Irving gives his compressed version of Hamlet at the Trocadero ; when there is a general levelling- up of culture, and removal of )3rejudice — then, and not till then, will this powerful little play meet with the appreciation which is its due. The main idea is suggested by the Misses Taylor's well-known poem, TJie Pin, though the dramatist has gone further than the poetess in working out the notion ^f Nemesis. THE FATAL PIN. A TRAGEDY. Dramatis Person.^. Uinily Heedless. By either Miss Vesta Tilley or Mrs. Berxard Beere. Peter Paragon. Mr. Forbes Eobertson or Mr. Arthur Eoberi.s (only he mustn't sing " The Good Young Man luJio Died''). First and Second Bridesmaids. Miss Maude Millett and Miss Axnie Hughes. Scene. — Emily's Boudoir, sumi^tuoiishj furnished xvith a screen and soft, c. Door, r., leadincj to Emily's Bed- 100 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. cliamher. Door, l. Emily discovered in loose wraj^j^cr, and reclining in un com for table iwsition on sofa, Emily (dreamilij). This day do I become the envied bridc- Of Peter, justly surnamed Paragon ; And much I wonder what in me he found (He, who Perfection so personifies) That he could condescend an eye to cast On faulty feather-headed Emily ! Plow solemn is the stillness all around me ! [.4 loud hang is heard hehind screen^ Methought I heard the dropping of a pin ! — Perhaps I should arise and search for it. . . . Yet why, on second thoughts, disturb myself, Since I am, by my settlements, to have A handsome sum allowed for pin-money ? Nay, since thou claim'st thy freedom, little pin, I lack the heart to keep thee prisoner. Go, then, and join the great majority Of fallen, vagrant, unregarded pinhood — My bliss is too supreme at such an hour To heed such infidelities as thine. \_Falls into a haj)py reverie. Enter First and Second Bridesmaids. First and Second Bridesmaids. What, how now, Emily — not yet attired ? Nay, haste, for Peter will be here anon ! [They hurry her offhy r. door, just as Petee Paragon enters l. in bridal array. N.B. — The exigencies of the Drama are responsible for his making his aijpearancc here, instead of waiting, as is more usual, at the church, Peter {meditatively). The golden sands of my celibacy THE FATAL FIX. 101 Are running low — soon falls the final grain ! Yet, even now, the glass I would not turn. My Emily is not without her faults *' Was not without them," I should rather say, For during ten idyllic years of courtship, By precept and example I have striven To mould her to a helpmate fit for me. Now, thank the Gods, my labours are complete. She stands redeemed from all her giddiness ! [Here he steps upon tlie pin^ and utters an exelamation. Ha ! What is this ? I'm wounded . . . agony ! With what a darting pain my foot's transfixed ! I'll summon help (icitJi calm courage) — yet, stay, I would not dim 102 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL This nuptial day by any sombre cloud. I'll bear this stroke alone — and now to probe The full extent of my calamity. [Seats himself on sofa in such a position as to he con- cealed hij the screen from all hut the audience, and 2)roceeds to remove his hoot. Ye powers of Perfidy, it is a pin ! I must know more of this — for it is meet Such criminal neglect should be exposed. Severe shall be that house-maid's punishment Who's proved to be responsible for this ! — Eut soft, I hear a step. [Enter First and Second Bridesmaids, who hunt dili- gently upon the carpet without observing Peter's presence. Emily's Voice (within). Oh, search, I pray you. It must be there — my own ears heard it fall ! [Peter betrays growing uneasiness. The Bridesmaids. Indeed, we fail to see it anywhere ! Emily (entering distractedly in bridal costume, with a large rent in her train). You have no eyes, I tell you, let me help. It must be found, or I am all undone ! In vain my cushion I have cut in two 'Twas void of all but stuf&ng . . . Gracious Heavens, To think that all my future bliss depends On the evasive malice of a pin ! [Peter behind screen, starts violently, Peter (aside). A pin! what dire misgivings wring my heart ! [Hops forward ivith a cold dignity, holding one foot in his hand. You seem in some excitement, Emilv ? THE FATAL FIN. 103 Emily (wildly). You, 'Peter \ . . . tell me — have you found a pin? Peter {ivith deadly calm). Unhappy girl — I have I {To Bridesmaids.) "Withdraw awhile, And should we need you, we will summon you. [Exeunt Bridesmaids; Emily and Veteh stand facim/ each other for some moments in dead silence. The pin is found — for I have trodden on it, And may, for aught I know, be lamed for life. Speak, Emily, what is that maid^s desert Whose carelessness has led to this mishap ? Emily {in the desperate hope of shielding herself). Why, should the fault be traced to any maid, Instant dismissal shall be her reward. With a month's wages paid in lieu of notice ! Peter {icith a passionless severity). From your o\Tn lips I judge you, Emily. Did they not own just now that you had heard The falling of a pin — yet heeded not ? Behold the outcome of your negligence ! [Extends his injured foot. Emily. Oh, let me kiss the place and make it well ! Peter {coldly icitlidraicing foot). Keep your caresses till I ask for them. My wound goes deeper than you wot of yet. And by that disregarded pin is pricked The iridescent bubble of Illusion ! Emily (sloivly). Indeed, I do not wholly comprehend. Peter. Have patience and I will be plainer yet. Mine is a complex nature, Emily ; Magnanimous, but still methodical. An injury I freely can forgive. Forget it {striking his chest), never ! She who leaves about 104 MB, PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Pins on the floor to pierce a lover's foot, Will surely plant a thorn within the side Of him whose fate it is to be her husband ! Emily {dragging herself toivards him on her knees). Have pity on me, Peter ; I was mad ! Peter {ivith emotion). How can I choose but pity thee, poor soul. Who, for the sake of temporary ease, Hast forfeited the bliss that had been thine ! You could not stoop to pick a pin up. Why ? Because, forsooth, 'twas but a paltry pin ! Yet, duly husbanded, that self- same pin Had served you to secure your gaping train, Your self-respect — and Me. Emily {wailing). What have I done ? Peter. I will not now reproach you, Emily, Nor would I dwell upon my wounded sole. The pain of which increases momently. I part from you in friendship, and in proof. That fated instrument I leave with you [Presenting her tcith tJie inn, wltich she accepts media- nically. Which the frail link between us twain has severed. I can dispense with it, for in my cuff [Shows her his coat-cuff, in ivhich a row of inns' -It e ads is j)ereeptlhle. I carry others 'gainst a time of need. My poor success in life I trace to this That never yet I passed a pin unheeded. Emily. And is that all you have to say to me ? Peter. I think so — save that I shall wish you well, And pray that henceforth you may bear in mind What vast importance lies in seeming trifles. THE FATAL PIN. 105 Emily {with a pale smile). Peter, your lesson is already learned, For precious has this pin become for me, Since by its aid I gain obHvion — thus ! [Stahs herself. Peter {coldly.) Kay, these are histrionics, Emily. \_Assists her to sofa. Emily. I'd skill enough to find a vital spot. Do not withdraw it yet — my time is short, And I have much to say before I die. (Faintly.) Be gentle with my rabbits when I'm gone; Give my canary chickweed now and then. ... I think there is no more — ah, one last word — ■ (Earnestly) — Warn them they must not cut our wedding-cake, And then the pastrycook ma}- take it back ! Peter {deeiAy moved). Would you had shown this thoughtfulness before ! [Kneels hy the sofa. Emily. 'Tis now too late, and clearly do I see That I was never worthy of you, Peter. Peter {gently). 'Tis not for me to contradict you now. You did your best to be so, Emily ! Emily. A blessing on you for those generous words ! Now tell me, Peter, how is your poor foot ? Peter. The agony decidedly abates. And I can almost bear a boot again. Emily. Then I die happy ! . . . Kiss me, Peter . . . ah ! [pies. Peter. In peace she passed away. I'm glad of that, Although that peace was purchased by a lie. I shall not bear a boot for many days ! Thus ends our wedding morn, and she, poor child. Has paid the penalty of heedlessness ! [Curtain falls, whereupon, unless Mr. Punch is greatly mistaken, there will not he a dry eye in the house. v.-BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE. A MELODBAMATIC DIDACTIC VAUDEVILLE. Suggested hy " The Wooden Doll and the Wax Doll/' hij the Misses Jane and Ann Taylor. Dramatis PERSONiE. BJnnchidine, } By the celebrated Sisters Stilton, the Champion Brunette. ^ Duettists and Clog-Dancers. Fanny Furbelow. By Miss Sylvia Sealskin {by kind permission of tlie Gaiety Management). Frank Manly. By Mr. Henry Neville. Scene — A sunny Glade in Kensington Gardens y hetwcen the Serpentine and Round Pond. Banter Blanchidine and Brunette, icith their arms thrown affectionately around one another. Blanchidine is carrying a large and exj)ressionless wooden doll. Duct and Step-dance. Bl. Oh, I do adore Brunette I (Dances.) Tippity-tap- pity, tappity-tippity, tippity-tappity, tip-tap ! J3r. Blanchidine' s the sweetest pet ! (Dances.) Tippity- tappity, &c. Together, When the sun is high, We come out to ply. BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIBINE. 107 Nobody is nigh, All is mirth and j y ! With a pairosol, Well protect our doll, Make a mossy bed For her wooden head ! [Combination stcp-danec during which hoth watch their feet with an air of detacJied and slightly amused interest, as if they belonged to some other persons, Clickity-clack, clickitj'-clack, clickity, clickity, clickity-clack ; clackity-clickity, clickitj^-clackity, clackity-clickity-c/^c/j / [llepeat ad. lib. Bl. {apologetically to Audience). Her taste in dress is rather plain ! {Dances.) Tippity-tappity, &:c. Br, {in p>itying aside). It is a pity she's so vain ! {Dances.) Tippity-tappity, itc. BL 'Tis a sliime to smoile. But she's shocking stoyle, It is quite a troyal. Still — she mikes a foil ! J>r. Often I 'ye a job To suppress a sob, She is such a snob, When she meets a nob ! [Step-dance as before, [N.B. — In consideration of the icell-known dificidty that most popular Variety-Artists experience in the metrical delivery of decasyllabic couplets, the lines which follow have been written as they ivill most ptrobably be spoken. 108 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Bl. {looldng off zvitli alarm). Why, here comes Fanny Furbelow, a new frock from Paris in ! She'll find me with Brunette — it's too embarrassing ! [Aside, (To Brunette.) Brunette, my love, I know such a pretty game we'll play at — Poor Timburina's ill, and the seaside she ought to stay at. (The Serpentine's the seaside, let's pretend.) And you shall take her there — {hypocritieally) — you're such a friend ! Br. (witJi simjdicitij). Oh, yes, that w'dl be splendid, Blanchidine, And then we can go and have a dip in a bathing- machine ! [Blax. resigns the wooden doll to Brun., wJio skijjs (fficitliit, L., as Fatsny Furbelow enters r., carrying a magnificent wax doll. Fanny (languidly). Ah, howdy do — isn't this heat too frightful ? And so you're quite alone ? Bl. (nervously). Oh, quite — oh yes, I always am alone, when there's nobody with me. [TJiis is a little specimen of the Lady's humorous "gag,'' at which she is justly considered a iwojicient. Fanny (drawling). Delightful! When I was wondering, only a little while ago. If I should meet a creature that 1 know ; Allow me — my new doll, the Lady Minnie ! [Introducing doll. Bl. (rapturously). Oh, what a perfect love ! Fanny. She ought to be — for a guinea ! BRUNETTE AND BLANGRIDINE. 103 Here, you may nurse lier for a little while. Be careful, for her frock's the latest style. [Gives Blan. the icax doll. She's the hest wax, and has three chan^^fes of clothino- — For those cheap wooden dolls I've quite a loathing. Bl. [hastily). Oh, so have I — they're not to be endured ! lie-enter Brunette 7vith the ivoodcn doll, which she tries to press upon Blanohidine, mucli to tJie latter' s confusion. Br. I've brought poor Timburina back, completely cured I Why, aren't you pleased ? Your face is looking so cloudy I F. {haughtilji). Is she a friend of yours — this little dowdy ? [Slow music, Bl. (after an internal struggle). Oh, no, what an idea I Why, I don't even know her by name ! Some vulgar child . . . [Lets the u'ax doll fall unregarded on the gravel, Br. {indignantly) . Oh, what a hon;id shame ! I see now why you sent us to the Serpentine ! Bl. (heartlessly). There's no occasion to flare up like turpentine. Br. {ungrammatically). Tmnot/ Disown your doll, and thrust me, too, aside ! The one thing left for both of us is — suicide ! Yes, Timburina, us no more she cherishes — (Bitterly.) Well, the Bound Pond a handy place to perish is ! [Bashes offstage with wooden doll. Bl. (making a feehle attempt to follow). Come back, Brunette ; don't leave me thus, in charity ! 110 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. F, {with contempt). Well, I'll be off — since you seem to prefer vulgarity. BL No, stay — but — ah, she said — what if she meant it ? F. Not she ! And, if she did, we can't prevent it. Bl. {relieved). That's true — we'll play, and think no more about her. F. {sarcastically). We may just manage to get on without her ! So come (Perceives doll lying face upwards on path.) You odious girl, what ha^-e you done ? Left Lady Minnie lying in the blazing sun ! 'Twas done on purpose — oh, you thing perfidious ! [Stanq^s, You knew she'd melt, and get completely hideous ! Don't answer me, Miss — I wish we'd never met. Y^ou're only fit for persons like Brunette ! [Picks up doll, and exit in p)assion. Grand Sensation Descriptive Soliloquy, hy Blanchidine, to Melodramatic Music. Bl. Gone ! Ah, I am rightly punished ! What would I not give now to have homely little Brunette, and dear old wooden- headed Timburina back again ! She wouldn't melt in the snn . . . Where are they now ? Great Heavens ! that threat — that rash resolve . . . I remember all ! 'Twas in the direction of the Pond they vanished. (Peeping anxiously between trees.) Are they still in sight ? . . . Yes, I see them ? Brunette has reached the water's edge . . . What is she purposing ! Now she kneels on the rough gravel ; she is making Timburina kneel too ! How calm and resolute they BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE, HI both appear ! (Shuddering.) I dare not look further — but ab, I must — I must / . . . Horror ! I saw her boots flash for an instant in the bright sunlight : and now the ripples have closed, smiling, over her little black stockings ! . . . Help ! — save her, somebody ! — help ! . . . Joy ! a gentleman has appeared on the scene — how handsome, how brave he looks ! He has taken in the situation at a glance ! With quiet com- posure he removes his coat — oh, don't trouble about folding it up ! — and why, ivliy remove your gloves, when there is not a moment to be lost ? Now, with many injunctions, he en- trusts his watch to a bystander, who retires, overcome by emotion. And now — oh, gallant, heroic soul ! — now he is sending his toy-terrier into the seething water ! {Stra'uunj 112 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. eagerly forward.) Ah, the dog paddles hravely out — he has reached the spot ... oh, he has passed it ! — he is trying to catch a duck ! Dog, dog, is this a time for pursuing ducks ? At last he understands — he dives ... he brings up — agony ! a small tin cup ! Again . . . this time, surely — what, only an old pot-hat ! . . . Oh, this dog is a fool ! And still the Hound Pond holds its dread secret ! Once more . . . yes — no, yes, it is Timburina ! Thank Heaven, she yet breathes ! But Brunette ? Can she have stuck in the mud at the bottom ? Ha, she, too, is rescued — saved — ha-ha-ha ! — saved, saved, saved ! [Swoons hysterically amid deafening apjdause. Enter Frank Manly siqiporting Brunette, who carries Timburina. Bl. (ivildly). What, do I see you safe, beloved Brunette ? ]>r. Yes, thanks to his courage, I'm not even 2uetl Frank {modestly). Nay, spare your compliments. To rescue Beauty, When in distress, is every hero's duty ! J)L Brunette, forgive — I'm cured of all my folly ! J)r. {heartily). Of course I will, my dear, and so will dolly ! [Grand Trio and Step-dance, with " tippity-tappityy^^ and *' clichity- clack " refrain as finale. vi.-COMING OF AGE. Our present Drama represents an attempt to illustrate upon the Music-hall stage the eternal truth that race icill tell in the long run, despite — hut, on second thoughts, it does not quite prove that, though it certainly shows the un- erring accuracy of parental — at least, that is not exactly its tendency, either; and the fact is that Mr. Punch is more than a little mixed himself as to the precise theory which it is designed to enforce. He hopes, however, that, as a realistic study of Patrician life and manners, it will possess charms for a democratic audience. COMING OF AGE. A GRAND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGICAL COMEDY-DBAMA IN ONE ACT. Dramatis Persons. The Earl of Burntal mond. The Countess of Btcrnfahnond {his wife). ■ Robert Henry Viscount Bidlsaye (tlieir son and heir). The Lady Bose Caramel {niece to the Earl). Horehound . .\ (Travelling as "The Celebrated Combination Mrs. Horehound . . - Korffdropp Troupe," in tlieir refined and ijoltsfoot H)rehound. J elegant Drawing-room Entertainment. Tenantry. ♦Scene — The Great Quadrangle of Hardbake Castle; banners, mottocSy decorations, die. On tJic steps, r., the Earl, 1 114 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. supjyoj'tcd hy his wife, son, and riiece, is discovered in the act of concluding a speech to six tenantry, ivho display all the enthusiasm that is reasonably to he expected at nine- 2)ence a night. The Earl {patting Lord Bullsaye's shoidder), I might say more, Gentlemen, in praise of my dear son, Lord Bullsaye, here — I might dwell on his extreme sweetness, his strongly marked character, the variety of his tastes, and the singular attraction he has for children of all ages — hut I forbear. I "will merely announce that on this day — the day he has. selected for attaining his majority — he has gratified us all hy plighting troth to his cousin, the Lady Eose Caramel, with whose dulcet and clinging disposition he has always possessed the greatest natural affinity. [Cheers,. Lord Bullsaye {aside to Lady E.). Ah, Eose, would such happiness could last ! But my heart misgives me strangely — ■why, I know not. Lady R. Say not so, dear Bullsaye — have jon not just rendered me the happiest little Patrician in the whole peerage ? Lord B. 'Tis true — and yet, and yet — pooh, let me snatch the present hour ! [Snatches it.. The Earl. And now, let the Eevels commence. Enter the Korffdropp Troupe, 2cho give their marvellous Entertainment, entitled, '' The Three Surprise Packets;'' after which — Ilorehound. This will conclude the first portion of our Entertainment, Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen; and, while my wife and pardner retires to change her costoom for the Second Part, I should he glad of the hoppertoonity of a short j)assonal hexplanation with the noble Herl on my right. [Exit Mrs. HoEEHOUND. COMING OF AGE. 115 The Earl (graciously). I will hear you, fellow ! X^iside.) Strange how familiar his features seem to me ! Iloreli. The fact is, your Lordship's celebrating the coming of hage of the ivrong heir. {Sensation — i.e., the six tenantry shift from one leg to the other, and murmur feebly.) Oh, I can prove it. Twenty-one years ago — {sloiu music) — I was in your Lordship's service as gamekeeper, 'ead whip, and hextry waiter. My son and yours was born the selfsame day, and my hold dutch was selected to hact as foster-mother to the youthful lord. Well — {tells a long, and not entirely original, story; marvellous resemblance between infants, only dis- tinguishable by green and magenta bows, dc, dec.) Soon after, your Lordship discharged me at a moment's notice The Earl {haughtily). I did, upon discovering that you w^ere in the habit of surreptitiously carrying off kitchen-stuff, concealed within your umbrella. But proceed with your narration. Iloreh. I swore to be avenged, and so — {common form again; tJie shifted bows) — consequently, as a moment's reflec- tion will convince you, the young man on the steps, in the button-'ole and tall 'at, is my lawful son, while the real Viscount is — {presenting Coltsfoot, ivho advances modestly on his hands) — 'ere ! [Renewed sensation. The Earl. This is indeed a startling piece of intelligence. {To Lord B.) And so. Sir, it appears that your whole life has been one consistent imposition — a gilded lie ? Lord B. Let my youth and inexperience at the time. Sir, plead as my best excuse ! The E. Nothing can excuse the fact that you — you, a low- born son of the people, have monopolised the training, the tenderness and education, which were the due of your Patrician foster-brother. {To Coltsfoot.) Approach, my I 2 116 MR. rUNCirS MODEL MUSIC HALL. injured, long-lost boy, and tell me Low I may atone for these 3'ears of injustice and neglect ! Colts, ^yell, Guv'nor, if you could send out for a pot o' four arf, it 'ud be a hef/innhir/, like. llie E. You shall have every luxury that befits your rank, but first remove that incongruous garb. Colts, (to Lord B.). These 'ere togs belong to yoio now, 3^oung feller, and I reckon exchange ain't no robbery. Lord B. (iritJi emotion, to Countess). Mother, can you endure to beliold your son in tights and spangles on the very day of his majority ? Coimtess {coldUj). On the contrary, it is my wish to see him attired as soon as possible, in a more appropriate costume. Ijord B. (to Lady 11.). Hose, yoii, at least, have not changed ? Tell me 3'ou will love me still even on the precarious summit of an acrobat's pole ! Lady Hose {scornfully). Really the presumptuous fami- liarity of the lower orders is perfectly appalling ! TIlg Earl {to Countess, as Lord B. and Coltsfoot retire to cxchanfie costumes). At last, Pauline, I understand why I could never feel towards Bullsaj^c the affection of a parent. Often have I reproached myself for a coldness I could not overcome. Countess. And I too ! Nature was too strong for us. But, oh, the joy of recovering our son — of finding him so strong, so supple, so agile. Never yet has our line boasted an heir vrho can feed himself from a fork strapped on to his dexter heel ! The E. (u'itJi emotion). Our beloved, boneless boy ! [Re-enter Coltsfoot in modern dress, and Lord B. in tights. Colts. Don't I look slap-up — O.K. and no mistake? Oh, I am 'aving a beano ! COMINii OF AGE. IVi All. What easy gaiety, and unforced animation ! The E. My dear hojj let me present yon to your ^fiancee. Kose, my love, this is your Icf/itimate lover. Colts. Oh, all right, rvc no objections — on'y there'll ho ructions with the young woman in the tight- rope line as I've been keepin' comp'ny with —that's all ! The E. Your foster- brother will act as your substitute there. (Proudly.) My son must make no mesaUl- ancc ! Rose (timidly). And, if it would give 3'ou any pleasure, I'm sure I could soon learn the tight-rope ! Colts. Not at yoifr time o' life. Miss, and besides, 'ang it, now I'm a lord, I can't have my wife doin' nothing low The E. Spoken like a the revels re-commence. [Re-enter Mrs. Horehound. Horeh. (to Lord B.). Now then, stoopid, tumble, can't you — what are you 'ere for ? Lord B. (to the Earl), Since it is your command, I obey, though it is ill tumbling with a heavy heart ! [^Turns head over heels laboriously. Lord 13. ill ti'-;-1it> true Burntalmond ! And now let 118 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Colts. Call that a somersault ? 'Ere, 'old my 'at {giving tall hat to Lady R.) Til show yer 'ow to do a turn. [Throws a triple somersault. All. What condescension I How his aristocratic superiority is betrayed, even in competition with those to the manner born ! Mrs. Iloreh. (still in ignorance of the transformation). Halt ! I have kept silence till now — even from my husband, but the time has come when I must speak. Think you that if he were indeed a lord, he could turn such somersaults as those? No — no. I will reveal all. {Tells same old story — except that she Iters elf from ambitious motives transposed the infants^ hows.) Now, do with me what you will ! Horch. Confusion, so my ill-judged action did but redress the wrong I designed to effect ! The E. {annoyed). This is a serious matter, reflecting as it does upon the legitimacy of my lately recovered son. What proof have you, woman, of jowc preposterous allegation ? JSIrs. II. None, my lord, — but these — \Exhihits two faded hunches of rihhon. The E. I cannot resist such ^overwhelming evidence, fight against it as I may. Lord B. {triumphantly). And so — oh. Father, Mother, Bose — dear, dear Rose — I am no acrobat, after all ! The E. {sternly). Would you were anything half so serviceable to the community, Sir ! I have no superstitious reverence for rank, and am, I trust, sufficiently enlightened to discern worth and merit — even beneath the spangled vest of the humblest acrobat. Your foster-brother, brief as our acquaintance has been, has already endeared himself to all hearts, while you have borne a trifling reverse of fortune with sullen discontent and conspicuous incapacity. He has COMING OF AGE. 111> perfected himself in a lofty and distinguished profession during years spent by you^ Sir, in idly cumbering the earth of Eton and Oxford. Shall I allow him to suffer by a purely accidental coincidence ? Never ! I owe him reparation, and it shall be paid to the uttermost penny. From this day, I adopt him as my eldest son, and the heir to my earldom, and all other real and personal effects. See, Eobert Henry, that you treat your foster-brother as your senior in future ! Colts, {to Lord B.). Way-oh, ole matey, I don't bear no malice, I don't ! Give us your dooks. [Offering hand. The C. Ah, Bullsaye, try to be worthy of such generosity ! [Lord B. grasps Coltsfoot's hajid in silence. Lady Bose. And pray, understand that, whether Mr. Coltsfoot be viscount or acrobat, it can make no difference whatever to the disinterested affection with which I have lately learnt to regard him. [Gives her hand to Coltsfoot, wJio squeezes it with ardour. Colts, {pleasantly). Well, Father, Mother, your noble Herlship and Lady, foster-brother Bullsaye, and my pretty little sweetart 'ere, what do you all say to goin' inside and shunting a little garbage, and shifting a drop or so of lotion, eh? The E. A most sensible suggestion, my boy. Let us make these ancient walls the scene of the blithest — ahem ! — heano they have ever yet beheld ! [Cheers from Tenantry, as the Earl leads the lu ay into the Castle 2vit]i Mrs. Horehound, followed by Hore- HOUND icith the Countess and Coltsfoot icith Lady BosE, Lord Bullsaye, discomfited and ahasJied, entering last as Curtain falls. vii.-RECLAIMED I OE, HOW LITTLE ELFIE TAUGHT HER GEANDMOTHER. CHARlCTErvS. Lady Belledame (a Dowager of the deepest dye). llonJishood {her Steward, and confidential Minion). Little Elfie [an Angel Child). This part has been specially constructed for that celebrated Infant Actress Banjoist, and Yariety Come- dienne, Miss Birdie CALLOWcniCK. Scene — The Panelled Boom at Nightshade Hall. Lady Belledame {discovered lireparing imrcels). Old and unloved ! — yes the longer I live, tlie more plainly do I per- ceive that I am not a popular old woman. Have I not acquired the reputation in the County of being a witch ? My neighbour, Sir Yevey Long, asked me publicly only the other day " when I would like my broom ordered," and that minx, Lady Yiolet Powdray, has pointedly mentioned old cats in my hearing ! Pergament, my family lawj^er, has declined to act for me any longer, merely because Monkshood rack-rented some of the tenants a little too energetically in the Torture Chamber — as if in these hard times one was not justified in putting the screw on ! Then the villagers scowl when I pass ; the very children shrink from me — [A childish Voice outside ivindoiv, " Yah, 'oo sold 'erself to Old Bogie for a pound o' tea an' a set o' noo teeth ?"] — that is, when they do not insult me by suggestions of bargains that are not even businesslike ! No matter — I will be avenged upon them all — ay, all ! 'Tis Christmas- BECLAIMEI) ! 121 time — the season at which sentimental fools exchange gifts and good wishes. For once I, too, will distribute a few seasonable presents . . . (Ins2)ecting imrcels.) Are my arrangements complete ? The bundle of choice cigars, in each of which a charge of nitro-glycerine has been dexter- ously inserted ? The lip-salve, made up from my own pre- scription with corrosive sublimate by a venal chemist in the vicinity ? The art flower-pot, containing a fine specimen of the Upas plant, swathed in impermeable sacking ? The sweets compounded with sugar of lead ? The packet of best ratsbane ? Yes, nothing has been omitted. Now to summon my faithful Monkshood. . . Ha ! he is already at hand. [Chord as Monkshood enters. Monkshood. Your Ladyship, a child, whose sole luggage is a small bandbox and a large banjo, is without, and re- quests the favour of a personal interview. Lady B. {reproachfully). And you, who have been with me all these years, and know my waj's, omitted to let loose the bloodhounds ? You grow careless. Monkshood ! Monies, {wounded). Your Ladyship is unjust — I did un- loose the bloodhounds ; but the ferocious animals merely sat up and begged. The child had took the precaution to pro- vide herself with a bun ! Lady B. No matter, she must be removed — I care not how. Monks. There may be room for one more — a little one — in the old well. The child mentioned that she was your Ladyship's granddaughter, but I presume that will make no difference ? Lady B. {disquieted). AYJiat ! — then she must be the child of my only son Poldoodle, whom, for refusing to cut off the entail, I had falsely accused of adulterating milk, and trans- 122 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. jjorted beyond the seas ! She comes hither to denounce and reproach me ! Monkshood, she must not leave this place iilive — you hear? Monks. I require no second bidding — ha, the child . . . she comes ! [Chord. Little Elfie trips in ivith touching self-confidence. Elfie (in a charming little Cockney accent). Yes, Grandma, it's me — little Elfie, come all the way from Australia to see 3'ou, because I thought you must be sow lownly all by your- self! My Papa often told me what a long score he owed you, and how he hoped to pay you off if he lived. But he went out to business one day — Pa was a bushranger, you know, and worked — oh, so hard ; and never came back to his little Elfie, so poor little Elfie has come to live with you ! Monks. Will you have the child removed now, my Lady? Lady B. {undecidedly). Not now — not yet; I have other work for you. These Christmas gifts, to be distributed amongst my good friends and neighbours {handing imrccls). First, this bundle of cigars to Sir Yevey Long with my best wishes that such a connoisseur in tobacco may find them sufficiently strong. The salve for Lady Yiolet Powdray, with my love, and it should be rubbed on the last thing at night. The plant you will take to the little Pergaments — 'twill serve them for a Christmas tree. This packet to be diluted in a barrel of beer, which you will see broached upon the village green ; these sweetmeats for distribution among the most deserving of the school- children. Elfie {throwing her arms around Lady B.'s neck). I do like you. Grandma , j'ou have such a kind face ! And oh, what pains you must have taken to find something that will do for everybody ! Lady B. {disengaging herself peevishly). Yes, yes, child. I trust that what I have chosen will indeed do for everybody, RECLAIMED ! 123 — but I do not like to be messed about. Monkshood, you know what you have to do. Elfie. Oh, I am sure he does. Grandma ! See how benevolently he smiles. You're such a good old man, you will take care that all the poor people are fed, icori't you? Little Elfie. Monks, (with a sinister smile). Ah! Missie, I've 'elped to settle a many people's 'ash in my time ! Elfie (innocently). What, do they all get hash? How nice! I like hash, — but what else do you give them? Monks, (cjrimly). Gruel, Missie. (Aside.) I must get out of this, or this innocent child's prattle will unman me ! [Exit icith parcels. 124 3IE. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Elfle. You seem so sad and troubled, Grandma. Let me sing you one of the songs with which I drew a smile from poor dear Pa in happier days. Lady B. No, no, some other time. (Aside.) Pshaw! why should I dread the effect of her simple melodies? (Aloud.) Sing, child, if you will. Elfie. How glad I am that I brought my banjo ! [Sings. T)ar is a luhly yaller gal dat tickles vie to deff; She'll dance dc room oh darkies doicn, and take away deirhrcff. When she sits down to supper, ehery coloured gemple-man, As she gets her upper lip o'er a plate o' " jwssom dipy'" cries, *' Woa, Lucindy Ann I " (Chorus, dear Granny !) Chorus. Woa, Lucindy ! Woa, Lucindy ! Woa, Lucindy Ann ! At de rate dat you are stujfin, you U'ill nehher leave us nujjin ; so uoa, Miss Sindy Ann ! To Lady B. (who, after joining in chorus with deep emotion, has hurst into tears). Why, you are weeping, dear Grandmother ! Ijady B. Nay, 'tis nothing, child — but have you no songs which are less sad ? Elfie. Oh, yes, I know plenty of plantation ditties more cheerful than that. (Sings.) Oil, I hear a gentle uhisper from dc days oh long ago, When I used to he a happij darkle slave. [Trump-a-trump f But noiv I'se got to labour vnf the shorel an' de hoe — For olc Massa lies a slcepin' in his grave I [Trump-trump f Chorus. Poor ole Massa ! I^oor ole Massa ! (Pianissimo.) Poor ole Massa, that I nehher more shall see ! RECLAIMED ! 125 lie 2vas let off by de Jury, Way down in old Missouri — But dey lynched him on a iicrsimmon tree. Elfie. You smile at last, dear Grandma ! I would sing to you again , but I am so veiy , very sleepy ! Lady B. Poor child, you have had a long journey. Eesfe fiwhile on this couch, and I will arrange this screen so as to ])rotect your slumbers. [Leads little Elfie to couch. Elfie {sleepily). Thanks, dear Grandma, thanks . . . Now I shall go to sleep, and dream of you, and the dogs, and angels. I so often dream about angels — but that is generally after supper, and to-night I have had no supper . . . ]^ut never mind . . . Good night, Grannie, good night . . . goo'ni' - . . goo . . goo ! [She sinks softly to sleep. Lady B. And I was about to set the bloodhounds upon this little sunbeam ! 'Tis long since these grim walls have echoed strains so sweet as hers. (Croons.) "Woa, Lucindy'* -&C. "Dey tried him by a Jury, way down in ole Missouri, an' dey hung him to a possumdip tree ! " (Goes to couch, and iiazes on tlic little sleeper.) How peacefully she slumbers ! What a change has come over me in one short hour ! — my withered heart is sending up green shoots of tenderness, of love, and hope ! Let me try henceforth to be worthy of this clear child's affection and respect. (Turns, and sees Monks- hood.) Ha, Monkshood ! Then there is time yet ! Those parcels . . . quick, quick ! — the parcels ! Monks (impassively). Have been left as you instructed, ray Lady. [Chord. lundjB.stafigers hach, gasping, into chair. Little Elfie awakes behind screen, and rubs her eyes. Lady B. (in a hoarse ichispcr). You — you have left the parcels . . . all— a/L^ Tell me — how were they received? 126 3IE. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Speak low — I would not that yonder child should awake and hear ! Little Elfie (behind the screen, very ivicle aivake indeed). Dear, good old Grannie — she would conceal her generosity — - even from me ! {I^oiidhj.) She little thinks that I am over- hearing all ! Monks. I could have sworn I heard wdiispering. Lady B. Nay, you are mistaken — 'twas but the wind in the old wainscot. {Aside.) He is quite capable of destroying- that innocent child ; but old and attached servant as he is, there are liberties I still know how to forbid. {To M.) Your story — quick ! Monks. First, I delivered the cigars to Sir Yevey Long, whom I found under his verandah. He seemed surprised and gratified by the gift, selected a weed, and was proceeding to- light it, whilst he showed a desire to converse familiarly with me. 'Astily excusing myself, I drove aw^ay, when Lady B. When icliat ? Do not torture a wretched old woman ! Monks. When I heard a loud report behind me, and, in the portion of a brace, two waistcoat-buttons, and half a slipper, which hurtled past my ears, I recognised all that was- mortal of the late Sir Yevey. You mixed them cigars un- common strong, m'Lady. Elfie {aside). Can it be? But no, no. I will not believe it. I am sure that dear Granny meant no harm ! Lady B. {with a grim j)ride she cannot wholly repress). I have devoted some study to the subject of explosives. 'Tis another triumph to the Anti-tobacconists. And what of Lady Yiolet Powdray — did she apply the salve ? Mojiks. Judging from the 'eartrending 'owds which pro- ceeded from Carmine Cottage, the salve was producing the desired result. Her Ladyship, 'owever, terminated her suffer- RECLAIMED ! 12^ ings somewhat prematoor by jumping out of a top winder just as I was taking my departure Lady B. She should have died hereafter — but no matter . . . and the Upas-tree? Monks. was presented to the Pergaments, who un- packed it, and loaded its branches with toys and tapers ; after which Mr. Pergament, Mrs. P., and all the little Pergaments joined 'ands, and danced round it in light'arted glee. {In a sombre tone.) They little knoo as how it was their dance of death ! Lady B. That knowledge will come ! And the beer^ Monkshood — you saw it broached ? Monks. Upon the village green; the mortality is still spreading, it being found impossible to undo the knots in which the victims have tied themselves. The sweetmeats- were likewise distributed, and the floor of the hinfant- school now resembles one vast fly-paper. Lady B. (with a touch of remorse). The children tool Was not my little Elfie once an infant? Ah me, ah me! Elfie (aside). Once — but that was long, long ago. And, oh, hoiv disappointed I am in poor dear Grandmama ! Lady B. Monkshood, you should not have done these things — you should have saved me from myself. You must have known how greatly all this would increase my unpopu- larity in the neighbourhood. Monks, (sidkily). And this is my reward for obeying orders ! Take care, my Lady. It suits you now to throw me aside like a — (castiny about for an original simile) — like a old glove, because this innocent grandchild of yours ha& touched your flinty 'art. But where will you be when she learns ? Lady B. (in agony). Ah, no. Monkshood, good, faithful 128 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Monkshood, she must never know that ! Think, Monkshood, you would not tell her that the Grandmother to whom she looks up with such touching, childlike love, was a — homicide — you would not do that ? Monks. Some would say even 'omicide was not too hlack a name for all you've done. (Lady Belledame shudders.) I might tell Miss Elfie how you've hlowed up a live Baronet, corrosive suhlimated a gentle Lady, honly for 'aving, in a moment of candour, called you a hold cat, and distributed pison in a variety of forms about this smiling village ; and, if that don't inspire her with distrust, I don't know the nature of children, that's all ! I might tell her, I say, and, if I'm to keep my mouth shut, I shall expect it to be considered in my wages. Lady B. I knew you had a good heart ! I will pay you anything — anything, provided you shield my guilt from her . . . wait, you shall have gold, gold. Monkshood, gold ! [Chord. Little Elfie suddenly conies from behind screen; limelight on her. The other two shrink hack. Elfie. Do not give that bad old man money, Grandmother, for it will only be wasted. Lady B. Speak, child ! — how much do you know? Elfie. All ! [Chord. Lady B. collapses on chair. Lady B. {tvith an effort). And now, Elfie, that you know, you scorn and hate your poor old Grandmother — is it not so? Elfie. It is wrong to hate one's Grandmother, whatever she does. At first when I heard, I was very, very sorry. I did think it was most unkind of you. But now, oh, I can't believe that you had not some good, wise motive, in acting as you did ! Lady B. {in conscience-stricken aside). Even iliis cannot .shatter her alrtess faith . . . Oh, wretch, wretch ! [Covers Iter face. RECLAIMED ! 12:> Monies. Motive — I believe you there, Missie. Why, she went and insured all their lives aforehand, she did. Lady B. Monkshood, in pity hold your peace ! Elfie {her face beaming). I knew it — I was sure of it ! Oh, Granny, my dear, kind old Granny, you insured their •• Good-Lye J Good-bye ! " lives first, so that no real harm could possibly happen to them — oh, I am so happy ! Lady B. {aside). What shall I say? Merciful Powers, what shall I say to her? [LHsturhed sounds ivithout. Monks. I don't know what you'd better say, but I can tell you what your Ladyship had better do — and that is, take 130 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. your 'ook while you can. Even now the outraged populace approaches, to wreak a hawful vengeance upon your guilty 'ed ! [Melodramatic music. Lady B, (distractedly). A mob! I cannot face them — they will tear me limb from limb. At my age I could not survive such an indignity as that ! Hide me, Monkshood — help me to escape ! Monks. There is a secret underground passage, known only to myself, communicating with the nearest railway station. I will point it out, and personally conduct your Ladyship — for a consideration — one thousand pounds down. [The noise increases. Elfie. No, Granny, don't trust him ! Be calm and brave. Await the mob here. Leave it all to me. I will explain everything to them — how you meant no ill, — how, at the very time they thought you were meditating an injury, you were actually spending money in insuring all their lives. When I tell them that Monks. Ah, you tell 'em that, and see. It's too late now — they are here ! [SJwuis nithout. Lady B. crouches on floor. Little Elfie goes to the windoiv, throu's opeii the shutters^ and stands on balcony in her fluttering ichite rohe, and the limeUght, Elfie. Yes, they are here. Why, they are carrying torches ! — (Lady B. groans) — and banners, too ! I think they have a band . . . Who is that tall, stout gentleman, in the white hat, on horseback, and the lady in a pony-trap, with, oh, such a beautiful complexion ! There is an inscription on one of the flags — I can read it quite plainly. ^^ Thanks to the generous Donor!'' (That must be you^ Grandmother!) And there are children who dance, and scatter flowers. They are asking RECLAIMED ! 131 for a speech. {Speaking off.) **If you please, Ladies and Gen- tlemen, my Grandmamma is not at all well, but she wishes me to say she wishes you a Merry Christmas, and is very glad you all like your presents so much. Good-bye, ^oocZ-bye ! " {Returning down Stage.) Now they have gone away, Granny . . . They did look so grateful ! Lady B. {Ijeicildered). What is this ! Sir Yevey, Lady Violet, — alive, well? This deputation of gratitude? Am I mad, dreaming — or what does it all mean ? Monks, {doggedly). It means that the sight of this 'ere angel child recalled me to a sense of what I might be exposin' myself to by carrying out your Ladyship's commands ; and so I took the liberty of substitootin gifts more calculated to inspire gratitude in their recipients — that's what it means. Lady B. Wretch ! — then you have disobeyed me? You leave this day month ! Eljie {pleading). Nay, Grandmother, bear with him, for has not his disobedience spared you from acts that you might some day have regretted? . . . There, Mr. Butler, Granny forgives you — see, she holds out her hand, and here's mine; and now Lady B. {smiling tenderly). Now you shall sing us *^Woa, Liicindaf' [Little Elfie fetches her banjo, and sings, "Woa, Lucinda!'' her Grandmother and the aged Steicard joining in the dance and chorus, and embracing the child, to form picture as Curtain falls. K 2 viii.-JACK PARKER; OE, THE BULL WHO KNEW HIS BUSINESS. Characteks. Jack ParJcer {''was a cruel hoy, For mischief luaa his sole emploTj.''^ — Vide Miss J AXE Taylor. Miss Lydia Batdcs (" though very young, Will never do whafs rude or wrong, '^ — Ditto.) Farmer Banls . • ) -r. , -r. ,, ^m T. , , ^ ,7 ? 3^y the Brothers Guiffiths. J^armer Banks s Bull ) Chorus of Farm Hands. Scene. — A Farmyard, r. a stall from ^vJiicJt the head of the Bull is visible above the half-door. Enter Farmer Banks ivith a cudgel. Farmer B. {moodily). When roots are quiet, and cereals are dull, I vent my irritation on the Bull. [TFc have Miss Taylor's own authority for this rhyme. Come hup, you beast ! [^Opens stall and flourishes cudgel — the Bull comes for- ivard ivith an air of ddiberate defiance. Oh, turning narsty, is he ? [Ajwlogetically to Bull. Another time will do ! I see you're busy ! JACK PARKER. 133 [The Bidlf after some consideration , deckles to accept this retractation, and retreats 2cith dignity to his stall, the door of which he carefully fastens after him. Exit Farmer Banks, l., as Lydia. Banks enters u. accomjxinied by Chorus. The Bidl exhibits the live- liest interest in her iiroceedinys, as he looks on, witJt his forelegs folded easily npon the top of the door. Sony — Lydia Banks {in Polka time). I'm the child by Miss Jane Taylor sung ; Umiaturally good for one so young — A' pattern for the people that I go among, With my moral little tags on the tip of my tongue. And I often feel afraid that I shan't live long. For I never do a thing that's rude or wrong ! Chorus {to ichich the Bull beats time). As a general rule, one doesn't live long. If you never do a thing that's rude or wrong ! Second Verse. My words are all with wisdom fraught, To make polite replies I've sought ; And learned by independent thought. That a pinafore, inked, is good for nought. So wonderfully well have I been taught. That I turn my toes as children ought ! Chorus {to nhich the Bull dances). This moral lesson she's been taught — She turns her toes as children ouefht ! 134 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Lydia {sweetly). Yes, I'm the Farmer's daughter — Lydia Banks ; No person ever caught me playing pranks ! I'm loved by all the live-stock on the farm, [Ironical applause from the Bull. Pigeons I've plucked will perch upon my arm. And pigs at my approach sit up and beg. {Business by Bull. For me the partial peacock saves his egg, No sheep e'er snaps if I attempt to touch her. Lambs like it when I lead them to the butcher ! Each morn I milk my rams beneath the shed, While rabbits flutter twittering round my head. And, as befits a dairy-farmer's daughter. What milk I get I supplement with water, [A huge Shadow is thrown on the road outside ; Lydia starts. Whose shadow is it makes the highway darker ? That bullet head ! those ears ! it is Jack Parker ! [Chord. The Chorus flee in dismay, as Jack enters icith a reckless sivagger. Song — Jack Parker. I'm loafing about, and I very much doubt If my excellent Ma is aware that I'm out ; My time I employ in attempts to annoy. And I'm not what you'd call an agreeable boy ! I shoe the cats with walnut-shells ; Tin cans to curs I tie ; Eing furious knells at front-door bells — Then round the corner fly ! JACK FARKEE. 135 'Neath donkeys' tails I fasten farze, Or timid horsemen scare ; If chance occurs, I stock with burrs My little Sister's hair ! [The Bull shakes his head rej^rovingly , Such tricks give me joy without any alloy, But they do not denote an agreeable boy ! [As Jack Parker concludes, tJie Bull ducks cautiously heloio the half-door, wJdle Lydia conceals herself heJiind the j^umj), l.c. Jack {ivandering about stage discontentedly). I thought at least there'd be some beasts to badger here ! Call this a farm — there ain't a blooming spadger here ! [Approaches stall — Bull raises head suddenly, A bull ! This is a lark I've long awaited ! He's in a stable, so he should be baited. [The Bull shoivs symptoms of acute depression at this jea de mots ; Lydia comes forward indignantly. Lydia. I can't stand by and see that poor bull suffer ! Excitement's sure to make his beef taste tougher ! [The Bidl emphatically corroborates this statement. Be warned by Miss Jane Taylor ; fractured skulls Invariably come from teasing bulls ! So let that door alone, nor lift the latchet ; For if the bull gets out — why, then you'll catch it ! Jack. A fractured skull ? Yah, don't believe a word of it / 13r> MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. [liaises latchet : chord; Bull comes slowly oiit^ ajul crouches ominously ; Jack retreats^ and takes refiKje on top ofpumjy : the Bull, after scratching his hack With his off foreleg, makes a sudden rush at Lydia. Jjydla {as she evades it). Here, help ! — it's chasing me ! — it's too absurd of it ! Go away, Bull — with me you have no quarrel ! [The Bull intimates that he is acting from a deep sense of duty, I^ydia (impatiently). You stupid thing, you're ruining the moral ! . , [TJic Bull persists obstinately in his jMrsuif. Jack (from top of pumj)). Well dodged, Miss Banks ! although the Bull I'll back ! [Enter Farm-hands. Lydia. Come quick — this Bull's mistaking me for Jack ! Jack, He knows his business best, I shouldn't wonder. FarmJiands (philosophically). He ain't the sort of Bull to make a blunder. [They look on. Lydia> (panting.) Such violent exercise will soon exhaust me ! [The Bull comes behind her. Oh, Bull, it is unkind of you . . . you've tossed me ! [L^alls on ground, ichile the Bull stands over her, in readiness to give the coup de grace ; Lydia calls for help, A FarmJiand (encouragingly). Nay, Miss, he seems moor sensible nor surly — He knows as how good children perish early ! JACK PARKEIl. 137 [The Bull nods 'in achiowledgment that he is at last understood, and slaps las chest with Ids forelegs. Lydia. Bull, I'll turn naughty, if you'll but be lenient ! Goodness, I see, is sometimes inconvenient. I promise you henceforth I'll try, at any rate, To act like children who are unreixenerate ! On top of the Pump. [TJie Bull, after turning this over, decides to accept a compromise. Jack. And, Lydia, when you ready for a lark are. Just give a chyhike to your friend — Jack Parker ! {They shake hands warmly. 138 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Finale. Lydia. I thought to slowly fade away so calm and beau- tiful. (Though I didn't mean to go just yet) ; But you get no chance for pathos when you're chivied by a bull ! (So I thought I wouldn't go just yet.) For I did feel so upset, when I found that all you get By the exercise of virtue, is that bulls will come and hurt you ! That I thought I w^ouldn't go just yet ! Chorus. We hear, with some regret. That she doesn't mean to go just yet. But a Bull with horns that hurt you Is a poor return for virtue, So she's wdser not to go just yet ! [The Bull rises on his hindlegs, and gives a forehoof each to Lydia and Jack, ivho dance ivildly round and round as the Curtain falls. [N.B. — Music-hall Managers are warned that the morality of this particular Drama may possibly be called in question by some members of the L. C. C] ix.-UNDER THE HARROW. A CONVENTIONAL COMEBY-MELOBBAMA, IN TWO ACTS. Characters. Sir Poslibury Piiddock {a haughty and high-minded Baronet). Verbena Puddock {his Daughter). Lord Bleshugh [her Lover). Spiker {a needy and unscrupulous Adventurer). Blethers [an ancient and attached Domestic). ACT I. Scene — The Morning Boom at Natterjack Hall, Toadley-lc- Hole; large icindow oi^en at hack, with heavy fracticahle sash. Enter Blethers. Blethers. Sir Poshbury's birthday to-day — bis birthday ! — and the gentry giving of him presents. Oh, Lor! if they only knew what I could tell 'em! . . . Ah, and must tell, too, before long — but not yet — not yet ! [Exit. Enter Lord Bleshugh and Verbena, Verh. Yes, Papa is forty to-day ; {innocently) fancy living to that age ! The tenants have presented him with a hand- some jar of mixed pickles, with an appropriate inscription. Papa is loved and respected by every one. And I — well, I have made him a little housewife, containing needles and thread ... See ! [Shows it. 140 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Lord Blesh. {tenderly). I say, I — I wish you would make me a little housewife ! {^Comedy love-dialogue omitted owinrf to want of space. Verb. Oh, do look ! — there's Papa crossing the lawn with, oh, such a horrid man following him ! Lord B. Kegular bounder. Shocking bad hat ! Verb. Not so bad as his boots, and they are not so bad as his face ! Why doesn't Papa order him to go away ? Oh, he is actually inviting him in ! Enter Sir Poshbury, gloomy and constrained^ with SpiivER, who is jaunty^ and somewhat over familiar. Spiker {sitting on the inano, and dusting his hoots ^cith his handkerchief). Cosy little shanty you've got here, Puddock — very tasty ! Sir P. {ivith a gulp). I am — ha — delighted that you approve of it ! Ah, Verbena ! [Kisses her on forehead. Spiher. Your daughter, eh ? Pooty gal. Introduce me. \^Sir Posh, introduces him — with an effort. Verbena {coldly). How do you do ? Papa, did you know that the sashline of this window was broken ? If it is not mended, it will fall on somebody's head, and perhaps kill him ! Sir P. {absently). Yes — yes, it shall be attended to; but leave us, my child, go. Bleshugh, this — er — gentleman and I have business of importance to discuss. Spiker. Don't let us drive you away, Miss ; your Pa and me are only talking over old times, that's all — eh. Posh ? Sir P. {in a tortured aside). Have a care. Sir, don't drive me too far! {To Verb.) Leave us, I say. (Lord B. a7id Verb, go out, raising their eyebroics.) Now, Sir, what is this secret you profess to have discovered ? UNDER THE HARROW. 141 Spiker. Oh, a mere nothing. {Takes out a cigar.) Got a light about you ? Thanks. Perhaps you don't recollect twenty-seven years ago this very day, travelling from Edgware Road to Baker Street, by the Underground Railway ? Sir P. Perfectly ; it was my thirteenth birthday, and I celebrated the event by a visit to Madame Tussaud's. -piker Introduced. Spiker. Exactly ; it was your thirteenth birthday, and j'ou travelled second-class with a half-ticket — {meaningly) — on your thirteenth birthday. Sir P, {terribly agitated). Fiend that you are, how came you to learn this ? Spiker. Very simple. I was at that time in the temporary position of ticket-collector at Baker Street. In the exuber- 112 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. ance of boyhood, you cheeked me. I swore to be even with you some day. Sir P. Even if — if your accusation were well-founded, how are you going to prove it ? Sp. Oh, that's easy ! I preserved the half-ticket, on the chance that I should require it as evidence hereafter. Sir P. (aside). And so the one error of an otherwise blameless boyhood has found me out — at last! {To Spiker.) I fear you not ; my crime — if crime indeed it was — is surely con- doned by twenty-seven long years of unimpeachable integrity ! Sp. Bye-laws are Bye-laws, old Buck ! there's no Statute of Limitations in criminal offences that ever I heard of! Nothing can alter the fact that you, being turned thirteen, obtained a half- ticket by a false representation that you were under age. A line from me, even now, denouncing you to the Traffic Superintendent, and I'm very much afraid Sir P. {writJiinfi). Spiker, my — my dear friend, you won't do that — you won't expose me ? Think of my age, my posi- tion, my daughter ! Sp. Ah, now you've touched the right chord ! I was think- ing of your daughter — a nice lady-like gal — I don't mind tell- ing you she fetched me. Sir, at the first glance. Give me her hand, and I burn the compromising half-ticket before your eyes on our return from church after the wedding. Come, that's a fair offer ! Sir P. (indignantly). My child, the ripening apple of my failing eje, to be sacrificed to a blackmailing blackguard like you ! Never while I live ! Sj). Just as you please ; and, if you will kindly oblige me with WTiting materials, I will just drop a line to the Traffic Superintendent Sir P. (hoarsely). No, no ; not that . . . Wait, listen; I — I will speak to my daughter. I promise nothing; but if her UNDER THE HARROW. 143 heart is still her own to give, she may, (mind, I do not say she icill,) be induced to link her lot to yours, though I shall not attempt to influence her in any way — in any way. Sp. Well, you know your own business best, old Cockalo- rum. Here comes the young lady, so I'll leave you to manage this delicate affair alone. Ta-ta. I shan't be far off. [Sicarjgers insolently out as Verb, enters. Sir P. My child, I have just received an offer for jour hand. I know not if you will consent? Verb. I can guess who has made that offer, and why. I consent with all my heart, dear Papa. Sir P, Can I trust my ears ! You consent ? Noble girl ! [He emhraces her. Verb. I was quite sure dear Bleshugh meant to speak, and I do love him very much. Sir P. (starting). It is not Lord Bleshugh, my child, but Mr. Samuel Spiker, the gentleman (for he is at heart a gentle- man) whom I introduced to you just now. Ver'b. I have seen so little of him, Papa, I cannot love him — you must really excuse me ! Sir P. Ah, but you will, my darling, you will — I know your unselfish nature — you will, to save your poor old dad from a terrible disgrace . . yes, disgrace, listen ! Twenty- seven years age — (he tells her all). Verbena, at this very moment, there is a subscription on foot in the county to present me with my photograph, done by an itinerant photo- grapher of the highest eminence, and framed and glazed ready for hanging. Is that photograph never to know the nail which even now awaits it? Can you not surrender a passing girlish fancy, to spare 3'our fond old father's fame? Mr. Spiker is peculiar, perhaps, in many ways — not quite of our monde — but he loves you sincerely, my child, and that is in itself a recommendation. Ah, I see — my prayers are vain 144 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. ... be liappy, then. As for me, let the police come — I am ready! [JVee2)s. Verb, Not so, Papa ; I will marry this Mr. Spiker, since it is your wish. [Sir Posh, dries his eyes. Sir P. Here, Spiker, my dear fellow, it is all right. Come in. She accepts you. Enter Spiker. Sp. Thought she would. Sensible little gal ! Well, Miss, you shan't regret it. Bless you, we'll be as chummy together as a couple of little dicky-birds. Yerh. Mr. Spiker, let us understand one another. I will do my best to be a good wife to you — but chumminess is not mine to give, nor can I promise ever to be your dicky-bird. Enter Lord Bleshugh. Lord B. Sir Poshbury, may I have five minutes with you ? Verbena, you need not go. {Looking at Spiker.) Perhaps this person will kindly relieve us of his presence. Sp. Sorry to disoblige, old fellow, but I'm on duty where Miss Verbena is now, you see, as she's just promised to be my wife. Ljord B. Your wife ! Yerh. (fainthj). Yes, Lord Bleshugh, his wife! Sir P. Yes, my poor boy, his wife ! [Verbena totters, and falls heavilij in a dead faint, r.c, up- setting a flower -stand ; Lord Bleshugh staggers, and swoons on sofa, c, overturning a table of knicknacks ; Sir Poshbury sinks into chair, l.c, and covers Itis face with liis hands, Sp, {looking down on them triumphantly). Under the Harrow, by Gad ! Under the Harrow ! \_Curt:iin, and end of Act I. UNDER THE HARROW. 145 ACT II. Scene — Same as in Act I.; viz., the Morning-Room at Nat- terjack HalL Evening of same dag. Enter Blethers. Blethers. Another of Sir Poshbury's birthdays almost gone — and my secret still untold ! {Dodders.) I can't keep it up much longer. . . Ha, here comes his Lordship — he does look mortal bad, that he do ! Miss Verbena ain't treated him too well, from all I can hear, poor young feller ! Enter Lord Bleshugii. Lord Bleshugh. Blethers, by the memory of the innumer- able half-crowns that have passed between us, be my friend now — I have no others left. Persuade your young Mistress to come hither — you need not tell her I am here, you under- stand. Be discreet, and this florin shall be yours ! Blethers. Leave it to me, my lord. I'd tell a lie for less than that, any day, old as I am ! [Exit. Lord Bl. I cannot rest till I have heard from her own lips that the past few hours have been nothing but a horrible dream . . . She is coming ! Xow for the truth ! Enter Verbena. Verbena. Papa, did you want me? (Recognises Lord B. — controls herself to a cold formalitg.) My lord, to what' do I owe this — this unexpected intrusion? [Pants violently. Lord Bl. Verbena, tell me, you cannot really prefer that seedy snob in the burst boots to me? Verh. (aside). How can I tell him the truth without betray- ing dear Papa? No, I must lie, though it kills me. (To Lord B.) Lord Bleshugh, I have been trifling with you. I — I never loved you. L 14G MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Lord B. I see, and all the while your heart was given to a howling cad ? Verb. And if it was, who can account for the vagaries of a girlish fancy! We women are capricious beings, you know. (With hysterical gaiety.) But you are unjust to Mr. Spiker — he has not yet howled in my presence — (aside) — though I very nearly did in his I Lord B. And you really love him? Verh. I— I love him. {Aside.) My heart will break ! Lord B. Then I have no more to say. Farewell, Verbena ! Be as happy as the knowledge that you have wrecked one of the brightest careers, and soured one of the sweetest natures in the county, will permit. ( Goes iq^ stage, and returns.) A few days since you presented me with a cloth pen-wiper, in the shape of a dog of unknown breed. If you will kindly wait here for half-an-hour, I shall have much pleasure in returning a memento which I have no longer the right to retain, and there are several little things I gave you which I can take back with me at the same time, if you will have them put up in readiness. [Exit, Verbena. Oh, he is cruel, cruel ! but I shall keep the little bone yard-measure, and the diamond pig — they are all I have to remind me of him ! Enter Spiker, slightly intoxicated. Spiker. (throiving himself on sofa zuithout seeing Verb.) I don' know how it is, but I feel precioush shleej)y, somehow. P'raps I did partake HI' too freely of Sir Poshbury's gen'rous Burgundy. Wunner why they call it ** gen'rous" — it didn't give me anything — 'cept a bloomin' headache ! However, I punished it, and old Poshbury had to look on and let me. He-he ! {Examining his hand.) Who'd think, to look at UNDER THE HARROW. 147 thish thumb, that there was a real live Baronet squirmin' under it. But there ish ! [Snores. Verb, (bitterly). And that thing is my affianced husband ! Ah, no I cannot go through with it, he is too repulsive ! If I could but find a way to free myself without compromising poor Papa. The sofa-cushion ! Dare I ? It would be quite --_^. S piker si^iked. painless . . . Surely the removal of such an odious wretch cannot be Murder . . . I will! {Sloiv music. She gets a cushion, and presses it tiffhtly over Spiker's head.) Oh, I wish he wouldn't gurgle like that, and how he does kick ! He cannot even die like a gentleman 1 (Spiker's kicks become more and more feeble and eventually cease. ) How still he lies ! I almost wish . . . Mr. Spiker, Mr. Spi-ker ! . . no answer — oh, I really have suffocated him ! (Enter Sir Posh.) You, Papa? Sir Posh. What, Verbena, sitting with, hem — Samuel in L 2 148 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. the gloaming ? (Sings tvith forced hilarity.) *'In the gloam- ing, oh, my darling ! " that's as it should be — quite as it should be ! Verb, (in dull strained accents). Don't sing, Papa, I can- not bear it — ^just yet. I have just suffocated Mr. Spiker with a sofa-cushion. See ! [Shows the body. Sir Posh. Then I am safe — he will tell no tales now ! But, ny child, are you aware of the very serious nature of your act ? ^n act of which, as a Justice of the Peace, I am bound tO' 'sake some official cognizance ! Verb. Do not scold me, Papa. Was it not done for your sake ? Sir P. I cannot accept such an excuse as that. I fear your motives were less disinterested than you would have me be^ lieve. And now. Verbena, what will yo2i do ? As your father, I would gladly screen you — but, as a Magistrate, I cannot promise to be more than passive. Verb. Listen, Papa. I have thought of a plan — why should I not wheel this sofa to the head of the front-door steps, and tip it over? They will only think he fell down when intoxicated — for he had taken far too much wine, Papa ! Sir P. Always the same quick-witted little fairy ! Go^ my child, but be careful that none of the servants see you. (Verb, luheels the sofa and Spiker's body out, l.u.e.) My poor impulsive darling, I do hope she will not be seen — servants do make such mischief! But there's an end of Spiker, at any rate. I should not have liked him for a son- in-law, and with him, goes the only person who knows my unhappy secret ! Enter Blethers. Blethers. Sir Poshbury, I have a secret to reveal which I can preserve no longer — it concerns something that hap- pened many years ago — it is connected with your birthday. Sir Poshbury. UNDER THE HARROW. 149 Sir P. {q^iailing). What, a7iother/ I must stop /izs tongue at all hazards. Ah, the rotten sash-line ! (To Blethers.) I will hear you, hut first close yonder window, the night-air is growng chill. [Blethers goes to windoiv at back. Slow music. As he approaches it, Lord Bleshugh enters (r 2 e), and, tvith a smothered cry of horror, drags him hack hij the coat-tails —just before the window falls ivith a tremendous crash. Sir P. Bleshugh ! What have you done ? Lord Blesh. (sternly). Saved him from an untimely end — and you from — crime ! Collapse of Sir P. Enter Verbena, terrified. Verb. Papa, Papa, hide me ! The night-air and the cold «tone steps have restored Mr. Spiker to life and conscious- ness ! He is coming to denounce me — you — both of us ! He is awfully annoyed ! Sir P. (recklessly). It is useless to appeal to me, child. I have enough to do to -look after myself— now. . [Enter Spiker, indignant. Spiker. Pretty treatment for a gentleman, this! Look here, Poshbury, this young lady has choked me with a cushion, and then pitched me down the front steps — I might have broken my neck. Sir P. It was an oversight which I lament, but for which I must decline to be answerable. You must settle your differences with her. Spiker. And you too, old horse ! You had a hand in this, I know, and I'll pay you out for it now. My life ain't safe if I marry a girl like that, so I've made up my mind to split and be done with it ! Sir P. {contemptuously). If you don't, Blethers ivilL So do your worst, you hound ! Spiker. Very well then ; I will. {To the rest.) I denounce 150 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. this man for travelling with a half- ticket from Edgware Eoad to Baker Street on his thirteenth birthday, the Slst of March twenty-seven years ago this very day ! [Sensation. Blethers. Hear me ! It was not his thirteenth birthday ; Sir Poshbury's birthday falls on the 1st of April — to- morroivf I was sent to register the birth, and, by a blunder, which I have repented bitterly ever since, unfor- tunately gave the wrong date. Till this moment I have never hud the manliness or sincerity to confess my error, for fear of losing my situation. Sir P. {to Spikek). Do you hear, you paltry knave ? I was not thirteen. Consequently, I was under age, and the Bye- laws are still unbroken. Your hold over me is gone — gone for ever ! Sjnker. H'm — Spiker spiked this time ! [Retires up disconcerted. Lord Bl. And you did not really love him, after all. Verbena ? Verh. {with arch pride). Have I not proved my in- difference ? Lord BL But I forget — you admitted that you were but trifling with my affection — take back your pin-cushion ! Verh. Keep it. All that I did was done to spare my father ! Sir Posh. Who, as a matter of fact, was innocent — but I forgive you, child, for your unworthy suspicions. Bleshugh, ^y ^oy? yo^ li^'^'© saved me from unnecessarily depriving myself of the services of an old retainer. Blethers,'! condone a dissimulation for which you have done much to atone. Spiker, you vile and miserable rascal, be off, and be thankful that I have sufficient magnanimity to refrain from giving you in charge. (Spiker sneaks off crushed.) And now, my children, and my faithful old servant, congratulate me that I am no longer Verbena and Lord Bleshugh {together). Under the Harrow ! [Affecting Family Tableau and quick Curtain. x.-TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE ONCE more we draw upoD our favourite source of in- spiration— the poems of the Misses Taylor. The dramatist is serenely con- fident that the new London County Council Censor of Plays, whenever that much-desired official is appointed, will highly ap- prove of this little piece on account of the multi- plicity of its morals. It is intended to teach, amongst other useful les- sons, that — as the poem on which it is founded puts it — "Fruit in lanes is seldom good " ; also, that it is not always prudent to take a hint : again, that constructive murder is distinctly reprehensible, and should never be indulged in by persons who cannot control their countenances afterwards. Lastly, that suicide may often be averted by the exercise of a little savoir vivre. Tommy and Jane. 152 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE. Chabacters. Tommy and his Sister Jane {Taylorian Twins, and awful examples). Their Wicked Uncle (plagiarised from a forgotten Nursery Story, and slightly altered). Old Farmer Copeer {skilled in the use of liorse and cattle medicines). Scene — A shady lane ; on the right, a gate, leading to the farm ; left, some hushes, covered ivith i^racticahle scarlet berries. Enter the Wicked Uncle, stealthily. The W. U. No peace of mind I e'er shall know again Till I have cooked the geese of Tom and Jane ! But — though a naughty — I'm a nervous nunky, For downright felonies I'm far too funky ! I'd hire assassins — but of late the villains Have raised their usual fee to fifteen shillin's ! Nor, to reduce their rates, will they engage {Sympathetically) For two poor orphans who are under age ! 80 (as I'd give no more than half a guinea) I must myself get rid of Tom and Jenny. Yet, like an old soft-hearted fool, I falter, And can't make up my mind to risk a halter. {Looking off.) Ha, in the distance, Jane and little Tom I see ! These berries — {meditatively) — why, it only needs diplomacy. Ho-ho, a most ingenious experiment ! [Indulges in silent and sinister mirth, as Jane and Tom tri}) in, and regard him icith innocent wonder. TOMMY AND HIS SISTEB JANE. 153 Jane. Uncle, what is the joke ? Why all this merriment? The W, TJ. {ill guilty confusion). Not merriment, my loves — a trifling spasm — Don't be alarmed — your Uncle often has 'em ! I'm feeling better than I did at first — you're looking flushed, though not, I hope, with thirst ? [Insidionsli/. Song, hy the Wicked Uncle. The sun is scorching overhead ; The roads are dry and dusty ; And here are berries, ripe and red, Refreshing when you're thusty ! They're hanging just within your reach. Inviting you to clutch them ! But — as your Uncle — I beseech You w^on't attempt to touch them ? Tommy and Jane {dutifully). We'll do whatever you beseech, and not attempt to touch them ! {Annoyance ofW. U. The W. U. Temptation (so I've understood) A child, in order kept, shuns ; And fruit in lanes is seldom good (With several exceptions). However freely you partake. It can't — as you are young — kill. But should it cause a stomach-ache — Well, don't you blame your Uncle ! Tommy and Jane. No, should it cause a stomach-ache, we will not blame our Uncle ! 154 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. The W, U. {aside). They'll need no further personal assistance, But take the bait when I am at a distance. I could not, were I paid a thousand ducats, (With sentiment) Stand by, and see them kick their little buckets, Or look on while their sticks this pretty pair cut ! [Stealing off. Tommy, What, Uncle, going ? The W, U. [tvith assumed jauntiness). Just to get my hair cut ! [Goes, Tommy {looking ivistfuUy at the berries). I say, they do look nice, Jane, such a lot too ! Jane {demurely). Well, Tommy, Uncle never told us not to. [Slow music ; they gradually aj^proaeli the berries, which they pick and eat ivith increasing relish, cidminating in a dance of delight. Duet — Tommy and Jane {until step-dance). Tommy {dancing y with his mouth full). These berries ain't so bad — although they've far too much acidity. Jane {ditto). To me, their only drawback is a dash of insipidity. Tommy {rudely). But, all the same, you're wolfing 'em with wonderful avidity ! Jane (indignantly). No, that I'm not, so there now ! Tommy {calmly). But you are ! Jane. And so are you ! [They retire up, dancing, and eat more berries — after which they gaze thoughtfully at each other. TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE. 155 Jaiie. This fruit is most refreshing — but it's curious how it cloys on you ! Tommy {icith anxiety). I wonder why all appetite for dinner it destroys in you ! Jane, Oh, Tommy, aren't you half afraid you've ate enough to poison you ? Tommy, No, that I'm not — so there now ! &c., &c. [They dance as before. Tommy, Jane, is your palate parching up in horrible aridity ? Jane, It is, and in my throat's a lump of singular solidity. Tommy. Then that is why you're dancing with such pokerlike rigidity. [Refrain as before; they dance with decreasing spirit ^ and finally stop, and fan one another with their hats, Jane. I'm better now that on my brow there is a little breeziness. Tommy. My passing qualm is growing calm, and tightness turns to easiness. Jane. You seem to me tormented by a tendency to queasiness ? [Refrain; they attempt to continue the dance — but suddenly sit down side by side. Jane {with a gasp), I don't know what it is — but, oh, I do feel so peculiar ! Tommy {icith a gulp), I've tumults taking place within that I may say unruly are. 156 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Jane. Why, Tommy, you are turning green — you really and you truly are ! Tommy. No, that I'm not, so there now ! Jane. But you are ! Tommy. And so are you ! [Melancholy music; to which Tommy and Jane, after a few convulsive movements, gradually become in- animate. Enter old Farmer Copeer from gate, carrying a large bottle labelled ** Cattle Medicine.'* Farmer C. It's time I gave the old bay mare her drench. [Stumbles over the children, W^hat's here ? A lifeless lad ! — and little wench ! Been eating berries — where did they get them idees ? For cows, when took so, I've the reg'lar remedies. I'll try 'em here — and if their state the worse is. Why, they shall have them balls I give my 'erses ! [Carries the bodies off just before the W. U. re-enters. W. U. The children — gone? yon bush of berries less full ! Hooray, my little stratagem's successful ! [Dances a triumiAajit pas seul. Re-enter Farmer C. Farmer C. Been looking for your little niece and nephew ? TJie W. U. Yes, searching for them everywhere — Farmer C. {ironically). Oh, hev' you? Then let me tell you, from all pain they're free. Sir. TJie W. U. (falling on his knees). I didn't poison them — it wasn't me, Sir ! Farmer C. I thought as much — a constable I'll run for, [Exit, TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE. 35^ The W. U. My wretched nerves again ! This time I'm done for ! Well, though I'm trapped, and useless all disguise is. My case shall ne'er come on at the Assizes ! [Rushes desperately to tree and crams himself with the remaining berries, uliich produce an almost instan- taneous effect. Re-enter Tom and Jane from gate, looking ixde and limp. Terror of the Wicked Uncle as he turns and recognises them. The W, U. (with tremidous politeness). The shades of Jane and Tommy, I presume ? [Re-enter Fanner C. Jane and Tommy {x>ointing to Farmer C.) His Cattle Mixtures snatched us from the tomh ! The W. U. {with a flicker of hope). Why, then the self- same drugs will ease my torments ! Farmer C. {chuckling). Too late! they've drunk the lot, the little vormints ! The W. U. {bitterly). So out of life I must inglorious wriggle, Pursued by Tommy's grin, and Jenny's giggle ! [Dies in great agony, while Tommy, Jane, and Farmer CoPEER look on with mixed emotions as the Curtain falls. xi.-THE RIVAL DOLLS. *' Miss Jenny and Polly liad each a new dolly." — Vide Poem. Characters. Miss Jenny . . } By the Sisters Leamak. Miss Polly . . ) ^ The Soldier Doll The Sailor Boll By the Two Armstrongs. Scene — A Nursery, Enter Miss Jenny and Miss Polly, ivho jjerform a blameless step-dance ivith an improving chorus. Oh, isn't it jolly ! we've each a new dolly, And one is a Soldier, the other's a Tar ; We're fully contented with what's heen presented. Such good little children we both of us are ! [They dance up to a ctqyhoard, from ivhich they bring out tico large Dolls, which they place on chairs. Miss J. Dont they look nice ! Come, Polly, let us strive To make ourselves believe that they're alive ! Miss P, {addressing Sailor D.). I'm glad you're mine. I dote on all that's nautical. The Sailor D, {opening his eyes suddenly). Excuse me, Miss, your sister's more my sort o' gal. THE RIVAL BOLLS. 159 [Kisses Ms hand to Miss J., icho shrinks hack, shocked and alarmed. Miss J. Oil, Polly, did you hear ? I feel so shy ! The Sailor D. (with mild self-assertion), I can say " Pa " and *' Ma " — and wink my eye. [Does so at Miss P., icho runs in terror to Miss J.'s side. Miss J. Why, both are showing signs of animation. Miss P. Who'd think we had such strong imagination ! The Soldier Doll (aside to the Sailor D.). I say, old fellow, we have caught their fancy — In each of us they now a real man see ! Let's keep it up ! The Sailor D. {dubiously.) D'ye think as we can do it ? The Soldier D. You stick by me, and I will see you through it. Sit up, and turn your toes out, — don't you loll ; Put on the Man, and drop the bloomin' Doll ! [The Sailor Doll 2>idls himself together, and rises from chair importantly. The Sailor D. {in the manner of a Music-hall Chairman) — Ladies, with your kind leave, this gallant gent Will now his military sketch present. [Miss J. and P. applaud: the Soldier D., after feebly expostulatinrj, is induced to sing. 160 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Song, hy the Soldier Doll. When I used to be displayed, In the Burlington Arcade, With artillery arrayed Underneath. Shoulder Hump I imagine that I made All the Lady Dolls afraid, I should draw my battle-blade From its sheath, Shoulder Hump For I'm Mars's gallant son, And my back I've shown to none, Nor was ever seen to run From the strife ! Shoulder Hump ! Oh, the battles I'd have won, And the dashing deeds have done. If I'd ever fired a gun In my life ! Shoulder Hump ! llefrain {to he sung marching round Stage), By your right flank. Wheel ! Let the front rank kneel ! With the bristle of the steel To the foe. Till their regiments reel, At our rattling peal, And the military zeal We show ! THE RIVAL DOLLS. 161 11 11 k ' y\i ^'' ;( 1 i . ^'1:1 m i ^ ^ i ^ ^ n 1 " Shoulder Hump ! " [Repeat, zvith the ichole company marching round after him. The Soldier Doll. My friend will next oblige — this jolly Jack Tar. Will give his song and chorus in charack-tar ! [Same business with Sailor D. Song, hy the Sailor Doll. In costume I'm So maritime, You'd never suppose the fact is, That with the Fleet In Regent Street, 162 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. I'd precious little naval practice ! There was saucy craft, Eigged fore an' aft, Inside o' Mr. Cre-mer's. From Noah's Arks to Clipper-built barques, Like-wise mechanical stea-mers. Chorus. But to navigate the Serpentine, Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy ! With clockwork, sails, or spirits of wine, Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy ! I did respeckfully decline, So I was left in port to pine. Which wasn't azj,ctually the line Of a rollicking Sailor Boy, Yeo-ho ! Of a rollicking Sailor Bo-oy ! Yes, there was lots Of boats and yachts, Of timber and of tin, too ; But one and all Was far too small For a doll o' my size to get into I was too big On any brig To ship without disas-ter, And it wouldn't never do When the cap'n and the crew Were a set 'o little swabs all plaster ! Chorus — So to navigate the Serpentine, &c. An Ark is p'raps The berth for chaps THE BIVAL DOLLS. 163 As is fond o' Natural Hist'ry. But I sez to Shem And the rest o' them, " How you get along at all's a myst'ry ! With a Wild Beast Show Let loose below, And four fe-males on deck too ! I never could agree With your happy fami-lee, And your lubberly ways I objeck to." [Chorus. Hornpipe by the comjxiny, after which the Soldier Doll advances condescendingly to Miss Jenny. The Sold. D. Invincible I'm reckoned by the Ladies, But yield to you — though conquering my trade is ! Miss J, {repulsing him). Oh, go away, you great conceited thing, you ! [The Sold. T>. persists in offering her attentions. Miss P. (watching them bitterly). To be deserted by one's doll does sting you ! [The Sailor D. approaches. The Sailor D. {to Miss P.) Let me console you. Miss, a Sailor Doll As swears his 'art was ever true to Poll ! {N.B. — Good opportunity for Song here.) Miss P. {indignantly to Miss J.) Your Sailor's teasing me to be his idol ! Do make him stop — {spitefully) — When youVe quite done with my doll ! 164 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Miss J. (scornfully.) If you suppose I want your wretched warrior, I'm sorry /or you ! Miss P. I for you am sorrier. Miss J. (weeping, n.). Polly preferred to me — what ignominy ! Miss P. (weeping, l.). My horrid Soldier jilting me for Jenny ! [The two Dolls face one another, c. Sailor B. (to Soldier D.). You've made her sluice her sky- lights now, you swah ! Soldier D. (to Sailor D.). As you have hroke her heart, I'll hreak your noh ! [Hits him. Sailor D. (in a pale fury). This insult must he hlotted out in hran ! Soldier D. (fiercely). Come on, I'll shed your sawdust — if I can ! [Miss J. a7id P. throw themselves between the combatants. Miss J, For any mess you make we shall be scolded, So wait until a drugget we've unfolded ! [They lay down drugget on Stage. The Soldier D. (politely). No hurry, Miss, we don't object to waiting. The Sailor D. (aside). His valour — like my own — 's evaporat- ing ! (Defiantly to Soldier D.). On guard ! You'll see how soon I'll run you through ! (Confidentially,) (If you will not prod m^, I won't pink yon.) The Soldier D. Through your false kid my deadly blade I'll pass! (Confidentially.) (Look here, old fellow, don't you be a hass !) [They exchange passes at a considerable distance. THE RIVAL DOLLS. 165 The Sailor D. (aside). Don't lose your temper now ! Sold, D, Don't get excited. Do keep a little farther off I Sail, D, Delighted ! [Wounds Soldier D. by misadventure. Sold. D, (annoyed). There now, you've gone and made upon my wax a dent ! Sail, D, Excuse me, it was really quite an accident. Sold. D, (savagely). Such clumsiness would irritate a saint ! [Stabs Sailor Doll. Miss J, and P, (imploringly). Oh, stop! the sight of saw- dust turns us faint ! [They drop into chairs, swooning. Sail. D. I'll pay you out for that ! [Stabs Soldier D. Sold. D, Right through you've poked me ! Sailor D, So you have me ! Sold, D. You shouldn't have provoked me ! [They fall transfixed. Sailor D. (faintly) . Alas, we have heen led away hy vanity. Dolls shouldn't try to imitate humanity ! [Dies. Soldier D. For, if they do, they'll end like us, unpitied, Each on the other's sword absurdly spitted ! [Dies. Miss J. and P. revive, and bend sadly over the corpses. Miss Jenny, From their untimely end we draw this moral, How wrong it is, even for dolls, to quarrel ! Miss Polly, Yes, Jenny, in the fate of these poor fellows see What sad results may spring from female jealousy ! [They embrace yenitently as Curtain falls. XII. CONRAD ; OR, THE THUMBSUCKER. {Adapted freely from a icell-knoivn Poem in the ** Struwtvelpeter,") Chaeacters. Conrad {aged 6). Conrad's Mother (47). The Scissorman {age immaterial). Scene — A71 Apartment in the house of Conrad's Mother, tvindoiv in centre at hack, opening upon a quiet thorough- fare. It is dusk, and the room is lighted only by the re- flected gleam from the street-lamps. Conrad discovered half-hidden by left tviyidow- curtain. Conrad {imtching street). Still there ! For full an hour he has not budged Beyond the circle of yon lamp-post's rays ! The gaslight falls upon his crimson hose, And makes a steely glitter at his thigh, While from the shadow peers a hatchet-face And fixes sinister malignant eyes — On whom ? {Shudder i7ig.) I dare not trust myself to guess And yet — ah, no — it cannot be myself ! I am so young — one is still young at six ! — What man can say that I have injured him ? Since, in my Mother's absence all the day Engaged upon Municipal affairs, CONBAD; OR, THE THUMBSUCKEB. 167 I peacefully beguile the weary hours By suction of consolatory thumbs. [Here he inserts his thumb in his mouthy hut almost instantly removes it u'ith a start.) Again I meet those eyes ! Ill look no more — But draw the blind and shut my terror out. [Draivs hlincl and lights candle ; Stage lightens, Heigho, I wish my Mother were at home ! {Listening,) At last ! I hear her latch-key in the door ! [Enter Conrad's Mother, a lady of strong-minded appear- ance, rationally attired. She carries a large reticule full of documents. Conrad's M, Would, Conrad, that you were of riper years, So you might share your Mother's joy to-day, The day that crowns her long and arduous toil As one of London's County Councillors ! Conrad, Nay, speak ; for though my mind be immature. One topic still can charm my infant ear, That ever craves the oft-repeated tale. I love to hear of that august assembly [His Mother lifts her bonnet solemnly. In which my Mother's honoured voice is raised ! C'sM. (gratified). Learn, Conrad, then, that, after many months Of patient " lobbying " (you've heard the term ?) The measure by my foresight introduced Has triumphed by a bare majority ! Con. My bosom thrills with dutiful delight — Although I yet for information wait As to the scope and purpose of the statute. C.'s M, You show an interest so intelligent That well deserves it should be satisfied, 168 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Be seated, Conrad, at your Mother's knee, And you shall hear the full particulars. You know how zealously I advocate The sacred cause of Nursery Reform ? How through my efforts every infant's toys Are carefully inspected once a month ? Con. {ivearily). Nay, Mother, you forget — I have no toys. O.'s M. Which brings you under the exemption clause. But — to resume ; how Nursery Songs and Tales Must now be duly licensed by our Censor, And any deviation from the text Forbidden under heavy penalties ? All that you know. Well ; with concern of late, I have remarked among our infancy The rapid increase of a baneful habit On which I scarce can bring my tongue to dwell. [The Stage darker ; blind at hack illuminated. Oh, Conrad, there are children — think of it ! — So lost to every sense of decency That, in mere wantonness or brainless sloth. They obstinately suck forbidden thumbs ! [Conrad starts loith irrcj^ressible emotion. Forgive me if I shock your innocence ! (Sadly.) Such things exist — but soon shall cease to be, Thanks to the measure we have passed to-day ! Con. (with g^'owing uneasiness). But how can statutes check such practices ? C.'s M. (j)atting his head). Bight shrewdly questioned, boy ! I come to that. Some timid sentimentalists advised Compulsory restraint in woollen gloves, Or the deterrent aid of bitter aloes. I saw the evil had too deep a seat CONEAD; OB, THE THUMBSUCKER. 109 To yield to such half-hearted remedies. No ; we must cut, ere we could hope to cure ! Nay, interrupt me not ; my Bill appoints A new official, by the style and title Of "London County Council Scissorman," For the detection of young " suck-a-thuml)s." [Here the shadow of a hmjc hand brandishing a gigantiv pair of shears appears upon the hlind. Con. {hiding his face in his Mothers lap.) Ah, Mother, see ! . . the scissors ! . . On the blind ! C.\s M. Why, how you tremble ! You've no cause to fear. The shadow of his grim insignia Should have no terror — save for thumb-suckers. Con. And what for them ? C.'s M. {complacently). A doom devised by me — The confiscation of the culprit thumbs. Thus shall our statute cure while it corrects, For those who have no thumbs can err no more. [The shadoiv slowly passes on the hlind, Conrad appear- ing relieved at its departure. Loud knocking ivith- out. Both start to their feet. CJs M. Who knocks so loud at such an hour as this ? A Voice. Open, I charge ye. In the Council's name ! C.'s M. 'Tis the Official Red-legged Scissorman, Who doubtless calls to thank me for the post. Con. {with a gloomy determination). More like his busi- ness, Madam, is with — Me ! C.'s M. {suddenly enlightened). A Suck-a-thumb ? . . .. you, Conrad ? C. (desperately). Ay, — from birth ! [Profound silence, as Mother and Son face one another. The knocking is renewed, N 170 2IE, PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. C.'s M. Ob, this is horrible — it must not be ! I'll shoot the bolt and barricade the door. [Conrad i^laces himself before it, and addresses his Mother in a tone of incisive irony. Con. Why, where is all the zeal you showed of late ? Is't thus that you the Roman Matron play ? Trick not a statute of your own devising. Come, your official's waiting — let him in ! [C's M. shrinks hack appalled. So ? you refuse! — {tlirowing open door) — then — enter, Scissor- man ! [Enter the Scissorman, masked and in red tights, with his hand upon the hilt (f Ids shears. The S. {in a passionless tone). Though sorry to create un- pleasantness, I claim the thumbs of this young gentleman, Which these own eyes have marked between his lips. C's M. (frantically). Thou minion of a meddling tyranny. Go exercise thy loathsome trade elsewhere ! 21ie S. (civilly). I've duties here that must be first per- formed. C's M. (icildly). Take my two thumbs for his ! The S. 'Tis not the law— Which is a model of lucidity. Cm. {calmly). Sir, you speak well. My thumbs are forfeited, And they alone must pay the penalty. The S. (witJi approval). Right ! Step with me into the outer hall. And have the business done without delay. C's M. {throwing herself between them.) Stay, I'm a Councillor — this law was mine f Hereby I do suspend the clause I drew. CONRAD; OB, THE THUMBSUCKER. 171 The S. You should have drawn it milder. Con. Must I teach A parent laws were meant to be obeyed ? [To Sc] Lead on, Sir. {To his Mother ivitli cold courtesy.) Madam, — may I trouble you ? '•My Conrad!" [He thrusts her gently aside and jpasses out with the Sc. ; the door is shut and fastened from icithout, C.'s M. rushes to door which she attemjits to force uithout success. C.'s M. In vain I batter at a senseless door, I'll to the keyhole train my tortured car. (Listeninr/.) Dead silence ! ... is it over — or, to come ? Hark ! was not that the click of meeting shears ? . . . Again ! and followed by the sullen thud Of thumbs that drop upon linoleum ! . . . 172 ME. FUNCirS MODEL MUSIC HALL. [TJie door is opened and Conrad appears, pale hut erect. N.B. The icJiole of this scene has been compared /c>> one in '^ La Tosca'' — which, hoivever, it exceeds i)t horror and intensity. C.'s M. They send him back to me, bereft of both ! My Conrad ! What ? — repulse a Mother's Arms ! Con. {with chilling composure). Yes, Madam, for betweeric us ever more, A barrier invisible is raised. And should I strive to reach those arms again, Two spectral thumbs would press me coldly back — The thumbs I sucked in blissful ignorance, The thumbs that solaced me in solitude. The thumbs your County Council took from me, And your endearments scarcely will replace ! Where, Madam, lay the sin in sucking them ? The dog will lick his foot, the cat her claw, His paws sustain the hibernating bear — And you decree no law to punish them ! Yet, in your rage for infantine reform, You rushed this most ridiculous enactment — Its earliest victim — your neglected son ! CJs M. {falling at his feet). Say, Conrad, you will some- day pardon me ? Con, {bitterly, as lie regards Ids maimed hands.) Aye — on the day these pollards send forth shoots ! [His Mother turns aside icith a hearthroJicn wail ; Con- rad standing apart in gloomy estrangement as the Curtain descends. BRADBLRV, AONEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, WHITEKRIAR*. M ^..^vLt^:^ UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. jOU ^^m iWi Form L9-Series 4939 AN 16 19981 "D LD-URL MA/ L 007 120"468 ■|A,V &v. Ik' m: ;:.;?^: