The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe Part 70

MR. MEADOWS . . . . A Country Gentleman.

PRIGWELL . . . . . With a heavy heart and light fingers.

BROWN . . . . . . . Friends of each other.

JONES . . . . . . . Friends of each other.

BLIND VOCALIST . . Who will attempt the song of "Hey the Bonny Breast Knot."

The Scene represents Ludgate Hill in the middle of the day; Pa.s.sengers, Omnibuses, etc., etc., pa.s.sing to and fro.

MEADOWS enters, musing.

MEADOWS. I stand at last on Ludgate's famous hill; I've traversed Farringdon's frequented vale, I've quitted Holborn's heights--the slopes of Snow, Where Skinner's sinuous street, with tortuous track, Trepans the traveler toward the field of Smith; That field, whose scents burst on the offended nose With foulest flavor, while the thrice shocked ear, Thrice shocked with bellowing blasphemy and blows, Making one compound of Satanic sound, Is stunned, in physical and moral sense.

But this is Ludgate Hill--here commerce thrives; Here, merchants carry trade to such a height That compet.i.tion, bursting builders' bonds, Starts from the shop, and rushing through the roof, Unites the bas.e.m.e.nt with the floors above; Till, like a giant, that outgrows his strength, The whole concern, struck with abrupt collapse, In one "tremendous failure" totters down!-- 'Tis food on which philosophy may fatten.

[Turns round, musing, and looks into a shop window

Enter PRIGWELL, talking to himself.

PRIGWELL. I've made a sorry day of it thus far; I've fathomed fifty pockets, all in vain; I've spent in omnibuses half-a-crown; I've ransacked forty female reticules-- And nothing found--some business must be done.

By Jove--I'd rather turn Lascar at once: Allow the walnut's devastating juice To track its inky course along my cheek, And stain my British brow with Indian brown.

Or, failing that, I'd rather drape myself In cheap white cotton, or gay colored chintz-- Hang roung my ear the ma.s.sive curtain-ring-- With strings of bold, effective gla.s.sy beads Circle my neck--and play the Brahmin Priest, To win the sympathy of pa.s.sing crowds, And melt the silver in the stranger's purse.

But ah! (SEEING MEADOWS) the land of promise looms before me The bulging skirts of that provincial coat Tell tales of well-filled pocket-books within.

[Goes behind Meadows and empties his pockets

This is indeed a prize!

[Meadows turns suddenly round,

Your pardon, sir; Is this, the way to Newgate?

MEADOWS. Why, indeed I scarce can say; I'm but a stranger here, I should not like to misdirect you.

PRIGWELL. Thank you, I'll find the way to Newgate by myself.

[Exit.

MEADOWS (STILL MUSING). This is indeed a great Metropolis.

ENTER BLIND VOCALIST.

BLIND VOCALIST (SINGING). Hey, the bonny! (KNOCKS UP AGAINST MEADOWS, WHO EXIT). Ho! the bonny--(A Pa.s.sENGER KNOCKS UP AGAINST THE BLIND VOCALIST ON THE OTHER SIDE). Hey, the bonny--(A BUTCHER'S TRAY STRIKES THE BLIND VOCALIST IN THE CHEST)--breast knot. AS HE CONTINUES SINGING "HEY, THE BONNY! HO, THE BONNY," THE BLIND VOCALIST ENCOUNTERS VARIOUS COLLISIONS, AND HIS BREATH BEING TAKEN AWAY BY A POKE OR A PUSH BETWEEN EACH BAR, HE IS CARRIED AWAY BY THE STREAM OF Pa.s.sENGERS.

ENTER BROWN AND JONES. MEETING, THEY STOP AND SHAKE HANDS MOST CORDIALLY FOR SEVERAL MINUTES.

BROWN. How are you, JONES?

JONES. Why, BROWN, I do declare 'Tis quite an age since you and I have met.

BROWN. I'm quite delighted.

JONES. I'm extremely glad.

[An awkward pause

BROWN. Well! and how are you?

JONES. Thank you, very well; And you, I hope are well?

BROWN. Quite well, I thank you.

[Another awkward pause.

JONES. Oh!--by the way--have you seen THOMSON lately?

BROWN. Not very lately. (After a pause, and as if struck with a happy idea). But I met with SMITH-- A week ago.

JONES. Oh! did you though, indeed?

And how was SMITH?

Brown. Why, he seemed pretty well [Another long pause; at the end of which both appear as if they were going to speak to each other.

JONES. I beg your pardon.

SMITH. You were going to speak?

JONES. Oh! nothing. I was only going to say-- Good morning.

SMITH. Oh! and so was I. Good-day.

[Both shake hands, and are going off in opposite directions, when Smith turns round. Jones turning round at the same time they both return and look at each other.

JONES. I thought you wished to speak, by looking back.

BROWN. Oh no. I thought the same.

BOTH TOGETHER. Good-by! Good-by!

[Exeunt finally; and the conversation and the curtain drop together.

PROCLIVIOR.

(A slight Variation on LONGFELLOW'S "EXCELSIOR.") PUNCH.

The shades of night were falling fast, As tow'rd the Haymarket there pa.s.s'd A youth, whose look told in a trice That his taste chose the queer device-- PROCLIVIOR!

His hat, a wide-awake; beneath He tapp'd a cane against his teeth; His eye was bloodshot, and there rung, Midst sc.r.a.ps of slang, in unknown tongue, PROCLIVIOR!

In calm first-floors he saw the light Of circles cosy for the night; But far ahead the gas-lamps glow; He turn'd his head, and murmur'd "Slow,"

PROCLIVIOR!

"Come early home," his Uncle said, "We all are early off to bed; The family blame you far and wide;"

But loud that noisy youth replied-- PROCLIVIOR!

"Stay," said his Aunt, "come home to sup, Early retire--get early up."

A wink half quivered in his eye; He answered to the old dame's sigh-- PROCLIVIOR!

"Mind how you meddle with that lamp!