Chapter III: Act 3: Life amongst the Fancy! (1)

Tom Crib England’s well-known Champion Mr. G. CARTER
Swell Coves, Millers, &c., &c.

Tom and Jerry in a new phase--true admirers of English pluck--a Toast,
“Long Life to Gallant Tom Crib.”

A STREET.

Tim O’Boozle Mr. J. BAKER
Mrs. Tartar Miss ANNETTE VINCENT

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

TEMPLE BAR BY NIGHT!

Teddy McLush an Irish Watchman Mr. J. BRADSHAW
Mr. Tartar Constable of the Night Mr. M. ROBERTS

A Row--a rally, and a Rescue--how to box a Watchman--Tom and Jerry get
the best of a Charley--Tom and Jerry in trouble after a spree.

INTERIOR OF ST. DUNSTAN’S WATCHHOUSE.

BACK SLUMS IN THE HOLY LAND.

Mr. Jenkins King of the Cadgers, with a flash Medley Mr. J. BRADSHAW
Billy Waters a well-known character Mr. F. MITCHELL
Little Jemmy a cripple Mr. WEST
Creeping Jack a beggar Mr. SMALLALMS
Ragged Dick a fly one Mr. SHREDS
Dingey Bet Miss NABEM
Soldier Suke Miss LIST
Landlord of the Drum Mr. CHALK

Kate, Sue and Jane in new characters--Tom, Jerry and Logic up to their
larks--the Thieves’ Supper (without cant)--the raid upon the
Sanctuary--a terrific mill--Tom and Jerry in their glory--TABLEAU.

LEICESTER SQUARE.

Real Old Grimaldi Comic Scene.

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

Here! Hollo! Now for Fun.

VAUXHALL GARDENS

☞ Magnificently Illuminated for a Fete. ☜

The Recognition--all happy--the Lovers united--grand gallop--end of
Tom and Jerry’s Life in London.

Brilliant Shower of Fire by Professor Wells.

GRAND DENOUEMENT!

In consequence of the great success of the revival of TOM and JERRY at
the VICTORIA THEATRE--where it ran nine weeks: Mr. Conquest, of the
GRECIAN, and Mrs. Lane, of the BRITANNIA THEATRE, directly afterwards
produced a version of the same. A year or two after that Mr. William
Holland, of the SURREY THEATRE, assisted by Mr. J. A. Cave, also
staged it successfully.

In May, 1886, Mr. J. A. Cave re-produced the same at The Elephant and
Castle Theatre, which was set forth thus:--

ELEPHANT & CASTLE THEATRE, S.E.

GRAND THEATRE.

LESSEE AND MANAGER MR. J. A. CAVE.
_Trains, Trams and Buses From all Parts Stop at the Doors._

TOM AND JERRY A BIG SUCCESS;

GRAND REVIVAL OF LIFE IN LONDON 100 YEARS AGO.

Cruikshank’s far-famed Pictures Realised.--Manners and Customs of the
Period.--Old Haunts of London. Life in the East. Life in the
West.--Larks by Day.--Sprees by Night. Betting Cribs.--Sparring
Cribs.--All the Noted Characters in Costumes of the time.--The most
Novel, Picturesque, and Amusing Entertainment in London. See DAILY
TELEGRAPH, GLOBE, MORNING POST, SPORTING LIFE, DISPATCH, LLOYDS, &c.

POWERFUL CAST. ALL THE ORIGINAL SENSATIONAL EFFECTS

_Early Pass Doors open Nightly at 6.30._

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

TOM AND JERRY;
OR,
LIFE IN LONDON.

ALL THE ORIGINAL MUSIC, SONGS, DUETS, CHORUSES, AND DANCES.
PRODUCED FROM THE ORIGINAL ADELPHI MANUSCRIPT, BY MR. J. A. CAVE.

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

To conclude with, for the first time here, an Original Domestic Drama,
of intense interest, entitled THE

WREN BOYS;
OR, THE NIGHT BIRDS OF KERRY.

Introducing the entire Company.

STAGE MANAGER, Mr. George Skinner.
MUSICAL DIRECTOR, Mr. Henri G. French.

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

JESTERS AND PAINTED SCENERY.

Messrs. Hodson, Smart, West, Marks, Fairburn, Park, Skelt, and other
publishers made a rich harvest out of the--“Price 1d. Plain and 2d.
Coloured Characters of TOM AND JERRY; or, Life in London,” together
with miniature stages, and “BOOK OF THE WORDS” for the juvenile
home-performing version of the drama.

How delightful the book, and the pictures!

--oh! the pictures are noble still!--was to the youths of England, and how eagerly all its promised feasts of pleasure were devoured by them, Thackeray has told us in his Roundabout Paper, “DE JUVENTURE” in the _Cornhill Magazine_ for October, 1860.

Eye Nature’s walk, shoot folly as it flies,
And catch the manners living as they rise.

A man is thirty years old before he has any settled thoughts of his Fortune: and if it is not completed before fifty; he falls a building in his old age, and dies by that time his House is in a condition to be painted and glazed.

HISTORY OF THE
LIFE IN LONDON;
OR, THE
DAY AND NIGHT SCENES
OF TOM AND JERRY.

“Of Life in London, Tom, Jerry and Logic I sing.”
To the Strand then I toddled--the mob was great--
My watch I found gone--pockets undone:
I fretted at first, and rail’d against fate,
For I paid well to see “LIFE IN LONDON.”

In the early part of the year 1820, the British public were informed through the then existing usual advertising mediums that there was about to be published, in monthly parts, “PIERCE EGAN’S LIFE IN LONDON; or, the Day and Night Scenes of Jerry Hawthorn, Esq.; and his elegant friend Corinthian Tom, accompanied by Bob Logic, the Oxonian, in their Rambles and Sprees through the Metropolis. Embellished with thirty-six Scenes from Real Life, designed and etched by I. R. and G. Cruikshank, and enriched with numerous original Designs on Wood by the same Artists.”

Some time previous to its appearance a great taste had exhibited itself amongst fashionable bloods for sporting works--books upon the chase, upon racing, upon boxing, and ‘sport’ generally. The demand soon brought an excellent supply, and “BOXIANA,” in its own peculiar department, at once became a great favourite. Artists, too, arose, who devoted all their powers to hunting subjects, to racing favourites, and pugilistic encounters. Amongst these the names of Alkén, Dighton, Heath, Brooke, Rowlandson, &c., became very popular. One day it occurred to the editor of ‘Boxiana’ that if Londoners were so anxious for books about country and out-of-door sports, why should not Provincials and even Cockneys themselves be equally anxious to know something of “Life in London?” The editor of ‘Boxiana’ was Mr. Pierce Egan, who as the literary representative of sport and high life, had already been introduced to George IV., the character of the proposed work was mentioned to the King and his Gracious Majesty seems to have heartily approved of it, for he at once gave permission for it to be dedicated to himself. The services of Messrs. George and Robert Cruikshank were secured as illustrators.

And on the 15th July, the first number, price one shilling, was published by Messrs. Sherwood, Neely, and Jones, of Paternoster Row. This sample, or first instalment, of the entire work was quite enough for society to judge by. It took both town and country by storm. It was found to be the exact thing in literature that the readers of those days wanted. Edition after edition was called for--and supplied, as fast as the illustrations could be got away from the small army of women and children who were colouring them. With the appearance of numbers two and three, the demand increased, and a revolution in our literature, in our drama, and even in our nomenclature began to develope itself. All the announcements from Paternoster Row were of books, great and small, depicting life in London; dramatists at once turned their attention to the same subject, and tailors, bootmakers, and hatters, recommended nothing but Corinthian shapes, and Tom and Jerry patterns.[29]

Immediately Messrs. Sherwood and Co. issued the first shilling number of Mr. Pierce Egan’s work, out came Jones and Co., of Finsbury Square, with the following in sixpenny numbers:--

REAL LIFE IN LONDON;

or, The Rambles and Adventures of BOB TALLYHO, Esq., and his Cousin, the Hon. TOM DASHALL, through the Metropolis. Exhibiting a Living Picture of Fashionable Characters, Manners, Amusements in High and Low Life, by an Amateur. Embellished and Illustrated with a Series of Coloured Prints, Designed and Engraved by Messrs. Heath, Alkén, Dighton, Rowlandson, &c.

As may be readily conceived, the stage soon claimed “Tom and Jerry.” The first drama founded upon the work was from the pen of Mr. Barrymore, and thus announced in the bill:--“ROYAL AMPHITHEATRE. Extraordinary Novelty and Eccentric Production. Monday, September 17, 1821, at half-past six o’clock precisely, will be presented, never acted, an entirely New, Whimsical, Local, Melo-Dramatic, Pantomimical Drama, with new scenery, dresses, and mechanical changes, founded on Pierce Egan’s popular work, which has lately engrossed the attention of all London, called ‘LIFE IN LONDON;’ or, Day and Night Scenes of Tom and Jerry, in their Rambles and Sprees through the Metropolis.” The piece prepared for stage representation by Mr. W. Barrymore.[30]

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

The second dramatic version was written for the Olympic Theatre, by Charles Dibden, and thus set forth in the bill:--“OLYMPIC THEATRE. On Monday, November 12, 1821, and following evenings, will be presented a New Extravaganza of Fun, founded on Pierce Egan’s highly popular work, and interspersed with a variety of Airs and Graces, called “LIFE IN LONDON.”

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

“JERRY HAWTHORN (out of Order, and more of the Composite than Corinthian, never intended for the Church, though fond of a Steeple-chase). Mr. Oxberry.

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

A DESCRIPTION OF THE METROPOLIS

_Written and Set to Music by_

CORINTHIAN TOM.

LONDON TOWN’S a dashing place--For ev’ry thing that’s going,
There’s _fun_ and _gig_ in every face--so natty and so _knowing_.
Where NOVELTY is all the rage--From high to low degree,
Such pretty _lounges_ to engage--Only come and see!:--
What charming sights--On gala nights,
Masquerades--Grand parades,
Famed gas lights--Knowing fights,
RANDALL and CRIBB--Know how to _fib_.
Tothill-fields--Pleasure yields.
The Norwich bull--With antics full.
Plenty of news--All to amuse;
The Monkey “JACCO”--All the crack O!
Ambroghetti’s squall--Match girl’s bawl!
Put on the _gloves_--Playful as doves
Then show your _forte_--At the FIVES’ COURT;
Conjurors rare--At _Bartlemy_ fair;
POLITO’S beasts--See city feasts,
Lord Mayor’s day--Then the play,
Adelphi Theatre--Pretty feature!
Rotton Row--All the Go!
In the Bench--Keep your wench.
When next you roam--Mathew’s “AT HOME!”
Such prime joking--Lots of smoking;
Here all dash on--In the fashion.

CHORUS--Dancing, singing, full of glee,
O London, London town for me!

From ev’ry part the natives run,
To view this spot of land;
All are delighted with the fun,
_Astonish’d_ ’tis so grand!
To Vauxhall haste to see the blaze.
Such variegated lights;
The ladies’ charms are all the gaze--
No _artificial_ sights!:--
Lovely Faces--Full of graces,
Heavenly charms--Create alarms!
Such glances--And dances.
To the sky--See SAQUI fly--
In the blaze--All to amaze.
Cyprians fine--_Kids_ full of wine,
Orchestre grand--Pandean band;
Charming singing--Pleasure bringing;
Great attraction--And satisfaction:
Plenty of _hoaxing_--Strong coaxing;
Beautiful shapes--Beaux and apes,
Prone to quiz--Every phiz!
Dashing glasses--Queering lasses;
Flashy cits--Numerous wits;
Loud talking--Thousands walking:
Rare treating--Numbers eating;
Punch and wine--Every thing prime,
Grand CASCADE--Once displayed;
Duke and groom--In one room;
Here all dash on--In the fashion!

CHORUS--Dancing, singing, full of glee,
O London, London town for me!

And various _fancies_ there display’d,
To please and cheer the mind;
They captivate both man and maid,
All polite and kind,
See fashion driving through each street,
With splendour and renown:
Pedestrians, too, with _shining_ feet;
O, what a charming town!:--
Four-in-hand--Down the Strand!
Funny gigs--With knowing wigs;
BAXTER’S hats--That queer the flats;
Flashy whips--With silver tips,
Leathern breech--Pretty stitch!
High-bred cattle--Tittle tattle,
TATTERSALL sell--Peep into “HELL!”
Full of play--And make a stay;
Hear KEAN speak, GRIMALDI squeak!
Courts of law--Full of jaw;
BROUGHAM plead--MACAULEY read;
And Old Borum--At the Forum;
To Opera prance--See Vestris dance,
At Free and Easy--Full and greasy;
Prime song and catch--The Trotting-match
LONDON CRIES--O rare hot pies!
Sadler’s Wells--In summer tells;
Quick approach--In Hackney-coach;
Take your _Daffy_--All be happy:
And then dash on--In the fashion.

CHORUS--Dancing, singing, full of glee,
O London, London town for me!

Mr. W. T. Moncrieff--one of the most successful and prolific writers of the day--appeared as the third on the list of dramatists, and it was announced at the Adelphi Theatre in the following style:--“On Monday, Nov. 26th, 1821, will be presented for the first time, on a scale of unprecedented extent (having been many weeks in preparation, under the superintendence of several of the most celebrated Artists, both in the _Ups and Downs_ of Life, who have all kindly come forward to assist the Proprietors in their endeavours to render this Piece a complete out-and-outer), an entirely new Classic, Comic, Operatic, Didactic, Aristophanic, Localic, Analytic, Panoramic, Camera-Obscura-ic, Extravaganza Burletta of Fun, Frolic, Fashion, and Flash, in three acts, called ‘TOM and JERRY; or, LIFE IN LONDON.’ Replete with Prime Chaunts, Rum Glees, and Kiddy Catches, founded on Pierce Egan’s well-known and highly popular work of the same name, by a celebrated extravagant erratic Author. The Music selected and modified by him, from the most eminent composers, ancient and modern, and every Air furnished with an attendant train of Graces. The costume and scenery superintended by Mr. I. R. Cruikshank, from the Drawings by himself and his brother, Mr. George Cruikshank, the celebrated Artists of the original work.”

TOM AND JERRY;

OR, LIFE IN LONDON.

AN OPERATIC EXTRAVAGANZA

BY W. T. MONCRIEFF.

HARK! the watchman springs his rattle,
Now the midnight lark’s begun.]

Dramatis Personæ.

_As performed at the Adelphi Theatre._

CORINTHIAN TOM Mr. Wrench.
JERRY HAWTHORN Mr. W. Burrough & Mr. J. Reeve.
LOGIC Mr. Wilkinson.
JEMMY GREEN Mr. Keeley & Mr. Brown.
HON. DICK TRIFLE Mr. Bellamy.
SQUIRE HAWTHORN Mr. Buckingham.
PRIMEFIT Mr. Waylett.
REGULAR Mr. Smith.
TATTERSAL Mr. Philips.
MACE Mr. Maxwell.
BILLY WATERS Mr. Paulo.
LITTLE JEMMY Mr. Cooper.
DUSTY BOB Mr. Walbourn.
KATE (otherwise the HON. MISS TRIFLE), Mrs. Baker.
SUE (otherwise the HON. MISS TRIFLE), Mrs. Waylett.
JANE (otherwise the HON. MISS TRIFLE), Miss Hammersley.
MRS. TARTAR Mrs. Daly.
AFRICAN SAL Mr. Sanders.

Many of the names in the above cast will be familiar to old playgoers, as most of the persons engaged in the performance became great favourites with the public, and remained on the British stage for the remaining part of their respective lives. Now:--

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

TOM AND JERRY.

From over the hills and far away,
Where rustic sports employ each day
Young Jerry came with cousin Tom,
To see the rigs of London Town.
Of all that e’er he did or saw,
A faithful picture here we draw.

SCENE--_Chaffing Crib in Corinthian House.--Table, Boxing Gloves, Chairs, Foils, &c., &c._

_Enter_ TOM _and_ JERRY, _as just arrived_.

_Tom._ Ya! hip! come along, Jerry; here we are safe arrived, my boy. Welcome, my dear Jerry, to Corinthian Hall--to my snug chaffing crib--where, I hope, we shall have many a rare bit of gig together.

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

_Tom._ My prattling parlour--my head quarters, coz--where I unbend with my pals. You are now in London the bang-up spot of the world for fun, frolic, and out-and-out-ing. Here it shall be my care, Jerry, to introduce you to all sorts of life--from the flowers of society, the roses, pinks, and tulips, of one court, to the mechanical tag-rag and bobtail--vegetables--bunches of turnips--and strings of ing-ens, of another: for without a proper introduction, London, gay, bustling, various, as it is, would be no more than an immense wilderness.

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

_Tom._ We must make the best use of our time; I have seen a great deal of life myself; still I have a great deal yet to see. But let me give you a caution or two before we set out; never be too confident--rather at all times plead ignorance than show it; never disgrace the character of a friend, in that family where you are introduced as a friend; let the honour of the husband and the peace of the father be preserved inviolable; and never have the once friendly door be shut against you, either as a seducer--a hypocrite--or a scoundrel. But I say, my dear fellow, what do you call all this?--this toggery of yours will never fit--you must have a new rig-out.

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

_Tom._ Exactly; dress is the order of the day. A man must have the _look_ of a gentleman, if he has nothing else. We must assume a style if we have it not. This, what do you call it?--this cover-me-decently, was all very well at Hawthorn Hall, I dare say; but here, among the pinks in Rotten-row, the ladybirds in the Saloon, the angelics at Almack’s, the-top-of-the-tree heroes, the legs and levanters at Tattersall’s, nay, even among the millers at the Fives, it would be taken for nothing less than the index of a complete flat.

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

_Tom._ I’ll tell you; before we start on our sprees and rambles, I’ll send for that kiddy-artist, Dicky Primefit, the dandy habit maker, of Regent-street. He shall rig you out in grand twig, in no time. Here, Regular! (_Calls_).

_Reg._ Here I am sir.

_Tom._ Send for Dicky Primefit, directly.

_Reg._ What! the sufferer, Sir?

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

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

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

_Reg._ Yes, sir, the tailor bless me, how very uneducated; I thought every gentleman knew his tailor was the sufferer; I’m sure I know mine is, and to some tune too, I’ll chivey the rascal here directly, sir.

[_Exit._

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

_Jerry._ A swell! I’m at fault again.

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

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

_Tom._ But stay; here comes my friend Bob Logic; he shall tell you what a swell is--his head contains all the learning--I beg his pardon--all the larks extant; he is a complete walking map of the metropolis--a perfect pocket dictionary of all the flash cant, and slang patter, either of St. James’s or St. Giles’s; only twig him. Welcome, my dear Bob; ten thousand welcomes.

+----------------------------+
| MR. ROBERT LOGIC. |
| _Albany._ |
|_A_, _No. 9._|
+----------------------------+

_Enter_ LOGIC.

_Log._ Thankye, my dear Tom--thankye. Seeing your natty gig and fast trotter at the door, as I passed, I couldn’t avoid popping in to welcome you back to town. You’ve been sadly miss’d among the big ones since you’ve been away. Lots of chaffing about you at Daffy’s.

_Tom._ I suppose so. You couldn’t have popped in more opportunely! Allow me to introduce to you my companion and cousin, Jeremiah Hawthorn, Esquire, from Somersetshire; Jerry Hawthorn, Doctor Logic, commonly called Bob Logic--Doctor Logic, Jerry Hawthorn. Bob is the most finished man of all the pavé, Jerry, whether for drinking, roving, getting in a row or getting out of one.

_Log._ Oh, you flatter me! I yield the palm to you in those particulars. To be sure I always was a knowing one.

_Tom._ You were, Bob.

_Log._ (_To Jerry_). Your most obedient, sir; happy to see you. Where did you pick him up? (_To Tom_).

_Tom._ A slip from the chawbacons; rescued him from yokels. The business is this; bred up in Somersetshire. Jerry has never before crossed Claverton Downs. He is now come to see life, and rub off a little of the rust. In effecting this desirable consummation you can materially assist; under so skilful a professor of the flash as you, Bob--

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

_Tom._ Explain, Bob.

_Log._ Flash, my young friend, or slang as others call it, is the classical language of the Holy Land; in other words, St. Giles’s Greek.

_Jerry._ St. Giles’s Greek; that is a language, doctor, with which I am totally unacquainted, although I was brought up at a Grammar School.

_Log._ You are not particular in that respect; many great scholars, and better linguists than you, are quite as ignorant of it, it being studied more in the Hammer Schools than the Grammar Schools. Flash, my young friend, or slang, as others call it, is a species of cant in which the knowing ones conceal their roguery from the flats; and it is one of the advantages of seeing Life in London, that you may learn to talk to a rogue in his own language, and fight him with his own weapons.

_Tom._ I was telling him before you came in, Bob, that he must go in training for a swell, and he didn’t understand what I meant.

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

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

_Log._ Not know what a swell meant?

_Tom._ No: he wasn’t up.

_Jerry._ Not up?

_Log._ That is, you were not down.

_Jerry._ Not down!

_Tom._ No; you’re green!

_Jerry._ Green!

_Log._ Ah! not fly!

_Tom._ Yes, not awake!

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

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

_Tom._ Quite ignorant, isn’t he, Bob?

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

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

_Jerry._ What! the Hammer School?

_Log._ Yes, take your degrees under the classical Captain Grose. A swell, my dear boy, or rather an empty swell, is an animal very plentiful in the fashionable world; which, like the frog in the fable, wishing to appear greater than it is, and vie with the substantial John Bulls of the Exchange, keeps puffing and puffing itself out, till it bursts in the attempt, and proves its appearance, like itself, a bubble.

_Enter_ REGULAR.

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

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

_Reg._ This way, Mr. Primefit.

_Prime._ (_Without_). Have the goodness, young man, to desire my footman to tell my coachman to turn the horses heads towards the Military Club House:--

_Enter_ PRIMEFIT.

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

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

[_Exit._

_Prime._ Gentlemen, your most obedient. Mr. Corinthian, yours. What are your commands? was it your little bill you wanted? because if it is, I’ve got it all ready--’tis but a small account! (_Unrolls long bill_).

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

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

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

_Prime._ Very well, gentlemen, with all my heart--dem the bill; I’ll take care of the receipt though; (_aside._) as you don’t want to discharge your account, Mr. Corinthian, perhaps you wish to add to it; if so, I’ll take your orders with pleasure.

JERRY IN TRAINING FOR A SWELL.

Now Jerry must needs be a swell,
His coat must have a swallow-tail,
And Mr. Snip, so handy, O,
Soon rigg’d him out a Dandy, O.
Then hey for Life and London Town,
To swagger Bond Street up and down,
And wink at every pretty maid
They meet in Burlington Arcade.

_Tom._ You’ve nicked it; the fact is this, Dicky--you must turn missionary. Here is a young native from the country, just caught, whom you must civilise.

_Prime._ Oh! I understand. From the cut of the gentleman’s clothes, I presume he’s lately come from the Esquimaux Islands.

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

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

_Tom._ Now Dicky, out with your rainbow.

_Prime._ Here are the patterns, gentlemen, the very last fashions, every one; you can choose for yourself; but this is the colour most in vogue--generally greens.

_Jerry._ Yes, I’m told you London tailors are particularly fond of greens--cabbage to wit. But I am not very particular; only let me have something of this cut. (_Turning round and showing himself_).

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

_Prime._ By the by, if the gentleman’s in a hurry, I’ve a suit of clothes in my carriage, that I was about to take home to the Marquis of Squander, which I think will fit him exactly.

_Tom._ Eh, the Marquis of Squander--just Jerry’s diameter; why that will be the very thing. Let it be laid on the table directly.

_Prime._ Young man, bring that there bundle, into this here room. (_Regular brings on bundle_). You will find these perfectly _comme il faut_, I can assure you.

_Tom._ Come, Jerry, cast your skin--peel--slip into the swell case at once, my boy--are you up?

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

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

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

(_Jerry is fitted with Coat and Waistcoat; meantime, Tom and Regular box with gloves.--When Jerry is dressed he struts along the front of the stage_).

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

_Tom._ I knew Dicky would finish him, There’s not a better snyder in England, taking Nugee, Dollman, the Baron, and Rowlands into the bargain against him. That will do--now then Dicky, mizzle!--be scarce!--broom.

_Prime._ Wouldn’t intrude a moment, gentlemen, good morning--order my carriage, there, John--I’ll just take an ice, and then for the Duke.

[_Exit._

_Jerry._ The Duke and an ice--cursed cool--if these are the London tailors, what must be their customers?

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

_Jerry._ Blunt! I’m at fault again.

_Tom._ Explain, Bob----

_Log._ Blunt, my dear boy, is--in short what is it not? It’s every thing now o’days--to be able to flash the screens--sport the rhino--show the needful--post the pony--nap the rent--stump the pewter--tip the brads--and down with the dust, is to be at once good, great, handsome, accomplished, and everything that’s desirable--money, money, is your universal God,--only get into Tip Street, Jerry.

_Tom._ Well, come let’s make a start of it--where shall we go? No matter. I commit him to your care, Bob--use him well, remember he is not out of pupil’s straits, and musn’t be blown up at point nonplus yet.

_Jerry._ Why on London points I confess I am miserably ignorant. But for anything in the country, now--such as leaping a five-barred gate, jumping a ditch, trotting my pony against anything alive, wrestling, cudgelling, or kissing in the ring, depend on it, Tom, you’ll find me--fly.

_Log._ He’s a fine-spirited youth, and will soon make a tie of it with us--we’ll start first to the show shop of the metropolis, Hyde Park!--promenade it down the grand strut, take a ride with the pinks in Rotten Row, where dukes and dealers in queer--heavy plodders and operators--noblemen, and yokels--barber’s clerks, costard-mongers--swell coves, and rainbows, all jostle one another; then we’ll have a stroll through Burlington Arcade, peep in at Tattersal’s, and finish as fancy leads us.

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

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

SONG.

AIR.--“_Carnival of Venice._”

_Bazaars have long since had their day,
Are common grown and low;
And now, at powerful Fashion’s sway,
Arcades are all the go.
Then let’s to Piccadilly haste,
And wander through the shade;
And half an hour of pleasure taste,
In Burlington Arcade._

_Tom._ Now, my dear Jerry, to introduce you to another scene of Life in London;--you have taken a ride among the pinks in Rotten Row, have dipped into the Westminster pit, sported your blunt with the flue-fakers and gay tyke boys on the phenomenon monkey[31]--seen that gamest of all buffers, Rumpty-tum, with the rats; and now you can make assignation with some of our dashing straw-chippers and nob-thatchers in Burlington Arcade:--This is the very walk of Cupid and here----

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

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

_Log._ You’ll give chase, Tom?

_Tom._ To be sure I will, Bob.

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

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

_Jerry._ Yoicks! yoicks!

_Exeunt Omnes._

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

SOLO AND CHORUS.

AIR.--“_Gee ho, Dobbin._”

_Grooms, Jockies, and Chaunters, to Tattersal’s bring,
Your lame and blind spavin’d prads in a string.
Knowing ones, that have no legs to go on, may scoff,
But we I’s Yorkshire coves here can make them go off.
Gee ho, Dobbin! Gee ho, Dobbin!
Gee ho, Dobbin! Gee up, and gee ho!_

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

_Gul._ As sure as your name is Simon Cope, only wait till the flats come--have you given his pedigree to Tattersall?

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

_Gul._ Mind, you’re the seller,--I’m the bidder--hallo! here’s three swells coming this way--that one in the middle, looks like a flat, we must try it on upon him.

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

_Enter_ TOM, JERRY, _and_ LOGIC.

_Tom._ Confound the little gipsy, she has fairly given us the slip, by Jupiter--however, the assignation must be attended to.--Almack’s! smacks well. You are now at Tattersall’s, Jerry, a very worthy fellow, who made his fortune by a horse called Highflyer. In remembrance of whom the following epitaph was written:--

HERE LIETH
The perfect and beautiful symmetry
Of the much-lamented
HIGHFLYER;
By whom, and his wonderful offspring,
The celebrated TATTERSALL acquired a noble fortune,
But he was not ashamed to acknowledge it.
In gratitude to this famous
STALLION
He called an elegant mansion he built
HIGHFLYER HALL.

_Jerry._ Hum! and if one may judge from the splendour and extent of his premises, he seems to be no small highflyer himself.

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

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

_Tom._ What you’re up, eh?

_Jerry._ Yes, quite fly, depend on’t.

_Gul._ I beg pardon, gemmen--want to buy a prad? here’s one a gentleman wants to sell--you can’t have a better, Sir; here, you Bob, bring him out. There’s action for you--there’s one to tip ’em the go-bye at a mill,--there’s earth-stoppers--quiet to drive, quiet in harness, trots fifteen miles in less than an hour. Warranted sound--he would be cheap at a hundred, and I shouldn’t wonder if he was to go for thirty.

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

_Log._ He may be a good one to go--but he’s a rum one to look at--one of my Lord Cagmag’s sort, he always drives two puffers, a stumbler, and a blinker.

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

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

_Tat._ (_Who has now mounted the rostrum_). Now, gentlemen, we’ll proceed to business. The first article I have to offer to your notice is that prime Yorkshire stallion Bite--he was got by Blackleg out of Greenhorn--what shall I say, gentlemen, for this beautiful and most serviceable animal?--he is rising five, next grass--warranted sound--perfect in all his paces.

_Tom._ Nine pence.

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

_Jerry._ Why, if you’ll put his other eye in, I’ll give you three halfpence a pound for him.

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

[_Exit Tom, Jerry, and Logic._

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

_Enter_ JEMMY GREEN.

_Green._ Yes, I’ll bid--I’ll bid. Mr. Green from the City. I wants an ’orse, and I like the looks of that ’ere hanimal amazingly, and I’m no bad judge, I tell you that.

_Gul._ Here’s a customer, by jingo. It’s booked. Mr. Green’s the purchaser. (_Aside_). That’s a famous horse, that there, Sir--I mean to have him at any price.

_Green._ I don’t know that, Mister.

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

_Green._ Twenty pounds, Mr. Hauctioneer.

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

_Green._ I am wery much obliged to you for your adwice--but I happens to know what an ’orse is--I’m not a _hass_! I’ll have him, but I shan’t go further nor forty.

_Gul._ Five and twenty pounds.

_Green._ Thirty.

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

_Green._ Yes, five more.

_Tat._ Thankye, Sir; thirty-five.

_Gul._ Thirty-six, my regular.

_Green._ Thirty-seven, my regular.

_Gul._ Thirty-nine.

_Green._ Thirty-nine, for me too.

_Tat._ It’s against you, Mr. Green.

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

_Tat._ For forty pounds, have you all done at forty? last time at forty--forty--going for forty! going--going--gone! Mr. Green, he’s yours.

_Green._ I’ve bought him!

_Tat._ You have indeed, Sir!

_Green._ Here’s your money, Sir--Mr. Green, from Tooley Street--you’ll find two twenties! and I’m wery much obliged to you for your serwility.

_Cope._ You don’t want a civil honest lad to lead him home for your honour, do you, Sir?

_Green._ No thank’ye, I’m not going to trust an hanimal like that with nobody but myself. Can nobody have the goodness to lend me a bit of rope, to get him along vith?

_Cope._ No we’ve got you in a line, and that’s quite enough. (_Aside_) You bought him too cheap, to have rope with him, Sir; but here’s a hay-band, that will do perhaps.

_Green._ An ay-band--oh, ah; an ay-band will do very well,--do you think I can get him as far as Tooley Street, vith this?

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

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

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

_Green._ Vot? clear a gate! vy, then, I sha’n’t have to pay no turnpikes!--How pleased they’ll be in Tooley Street, when I tell’s my pa I’ve bought an unter!

_Gul._ We’ll get something more out of him yet. (_Aside to Cope_). So you think you have bought that ’ere horse, do you Mister?--Now, I say, I’ve bought him. (_To Green_)

_Green._ You bought him? that’s a good un! but I’m not to be taken in in this here manner!--if you bought him, I paid for him, that’s all I know.

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

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

_Cope._ Oh gentlemen, I’m sorry to see you quarrel.--(_To Gull’em_)--Let me speak to the gentleman, and I’ll convince him.--(_To Green_)--Sir, if you’ll give me one pound note, I’ll swear you bought him, and that the horse is yours.

_Green._ Sir, I’m wery much obliged to you, you’re werry purlite; and as I don’t mind a von pound note, and vishes to ’ave that ’ere hanimal all to myself, vy, there’s the money.

_Cope._ I’ve done him. (_To Gull’em_). Oh, the horse belongs to this gentleman,--I saw him pay for it.

_Green._ To be sure he did.

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

_Green._ Certainly; I’m glad it’s all settled: I think as how I may as vell ride him home. Vill you please to assist me to mount?--(_Gull’m puts him with his face to the horse’s tail_).

_Green._ Holloa! vy the horse’s head’s behind. Turn him round, if you please, young man. Come no tricks.--(_They turn the horse round_).--Vy the horse’s head is behind yet.--(_Green jumps off his back_).--I see you are going it, but I’m not to be had--I’m a knowing von! I shall lead him home myself.--Good morning, gentleman, I thank you for all your serwilities.

SCENE.--_Hyde Park Corner._

_Enter_ TOM, JERRY, _and_ LOGIC.

_Tom._ Ha! ha! ha! was there ever such a flat as that Mr. Green?--we can buy no prad to-day, Jerry; we must go when some gentlemen’s stud is selling; and while the dealers are running down the cattle, we can get a prime good one for a song. But now for Almack’s--the highest Life in London! and see what game Cupid has sprung up for us in that quarter.

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

_Log._ Aye; call a rattler.

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

_Log._ A rattler is a rumbler, otherwise a jarvey! better known perhaps by the name of a hack; handy enough in wet weather, or a hurry.

_Jerry._ A hack! If it is the thing we rattled over the stones in to-day, it might more properly be called a bone-setter.

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

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

_Tom._ A mab is a jingling jarvey!--a cabriolet Jerry--but we must mind our flash doesn’t peep out at Almack’s. ’Tis classic ground there; the rallying spot of all the rank, wealth, and beauty in the metropolis; the very atmosphere of it is--

THE BANG-UP OF THE BIG WIGS.

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

_Tom._ A shade or two!--we must be on our P’s and Q’s there--forget the Phenomenon and the Fancy. If you find me tripping, Jerry, whisper Lethe to bury it in oblivion; and, if necessary, I’ll do the same kind office for you.

_Jerry._ Ten thousand thanks!

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

_Jerry._ Chivey?

_Log._ Mizzle?

_Jerry._ Mizzle?

_Log._ Tip you rags a gallop!

_Jerry._ Tip my rags a gallop?

_Log._ Walk your trotters!

_Jerry._ Walk my trotters?

_Log._ Bolt!

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

ALMACK’S IN THE WEST.

If once to ALMACK’S you belong,
Like MONARCH’S you can _do no wrong_;
But banished thence on Wednesday night,
By Jove, you can do nothing right.

Ladies, your most humble servants,
Tom and Jerry stands before you.
Our blood is thrilling, you’re so killing;
At once we love you and adore you.

Let us softly sit beside you;
Trust us, you will quickly own,
That love’s alarms hath sweeter charms
Than joys e’er yet to mortal known.

SCENE.--_Almack’s brilliantly illuminated--Duchess of Diamonds, Countess Conversatione, Princess Pulmante, Lady Eastend, Baron Rufus, Sir Tilbury Unit, and Company discovered._

_Enter_ KATE, SUE, JANE, _and_ TRIFLE.

_Sue._ I do not see them yet.

_Kate._ I can depend upon Corinthian; and I think you may upon your lover. In the meantime, let us have a minuet to dissipate our _ennui_.

_Enter_ GREEN, _in ball dress_.

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

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

_Trifle._ Aye, aye, from the City. We find these City folks--these Greens--excessively useful in money matters, _pan hanour_. How are you my dear fa-el-low.

_Sue._ Your servant, Mr. Green.

_Green._ Ladies, your most _dewoted_. Mr. Trifle, your humble--Oh, this is the master of the ceremonies, and those are the two that’s to dance the gavotte. Yes, that’s Willis--_permitty moy_. (_Takes Kate and Sue’s arms_).

_Kate._ Eh, bless me, Mr. Green, what is the matter? Why, you seem quite out of spirits; I hope nothing has happened to Mrs. Green or any of the little Greens.

_Green._ Oh, no, nothing; but you labour under a mistake quite entirely; there is no Mrs. Green--I am not an ’appy man yet! There are no little Greens, neither--no young sprouts, I assure you. No, I’m out of spirits because I have been dished and doodled out of forty pounds to-day; I have been taken in by the purchase of an ’orse at Tattersall’s--It was a very fine looking hanimal but before I got him home, the cursed creature went upon three legs--Dragg’d the other behind him, like a pendulum.

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

_Green._ Oh, dear no--I couldn’t think of such a thing--I never danced but once, and then I was so excruciated with termidity that I tipped up my partner, lost one of my shoes, and diskivered an ole in my stocking.

_Kate._ Oh, horrid, how could you support the shock? But here is a lady who is absolutely pining for the honour of your hand.

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

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

_Enter_ TOM, JERRY, _and_ LOGIC, _full dressed_.

_Tom._ At length, my dear Jerry, we are at Almack’s, though egad I began to think we should be too late.

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

_Tom._ It is; the tip-top! set off to the best advantage, by the best dresses, finished by the best behaviour. (_Trifle quizzes through glass up stage_).

_Log._ Yes, witness that puppy, staring us out of countenance with his quizzing glass yonder--why don’t he wear green specs, as I do, if his ogles are queer.

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

_Jerry._ The half-and-half coves are somewhat different from the swaddies, and gay tykeboys, at the dog pit--Eh, Tom?

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

_Trifle._ My dear fa-el-low, you really must excuse my interrupting you--but what can you possibly have been preaching to your friend from the country so long--here are three lovely girls waiting to be introduced to you--relations of mine, the Honourable Miss Trifles--we must make up a quadrille.

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

_Jerry._ I’m up----

_Trifle._ I’m not equal to the fatigue of an introduction myself,--but my friend Green from the City here, will oblige me by taking the trouble off my hands.

_Green._ Vith the greatest of pleasure--the Honourable Miss Trifle--Mr. Corinthian.--The Honourable Miss S. Trifle.--Mr. Hawthorn.--the Honourable Miss J. Trifle--Doctor Logic.

_Ceremony of introduction takes place._

_Jerry._ What divinities! but I say, Tom, this girl is as like my Sue, as--yet it can’t be.

_Tom._ And this one is as like my Kate as one pea is like another--I could have betted every rap--six quid to four----

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

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

_Green._ Excuse my hinterfering, my dear fellows, but ve’re just going to make up a quod-reel, and vant you to join us.

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

_Jerry._ I know nothing about quadrilles, Tom--but the deuce is in it if I can’t cut as good a figure as _this Mister Jemmy_ Green, so I don’t care if I do kick up my heels a bit.

_Green._ Aye, a dance, a dance.

_After dance_, JERRY _advances with_ SUE.

_Jerry._ Sweet girl! may I be permitted to hope that the partnership of this evening may lead to one for life?

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

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

_Sue._ Come, Sir, they are about to waltz, and if you wouldn’t have my head as giddy as you seem to think my heart is, you will conduct me to a seat.

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

SCENE.--_Tom Cribb’s parlour.--Swell coves, Millers, &c., drinking and blowing their clouds; Tom, Jerry, Green, and Logic among them.--Cribb in the chair.--Chorus (Omnes)._

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

_Oh, who has not heard of our gallant black diamond,
Who once down at Hungerford us’d for to ply?
His mawleys he us’d with such skill and dexterity,
Winning each mill, and making each miller fly!
He fibb’d so neat--he stopped so steadily;
He hit so straight--he floored so readily.
In every game ’twas_ the _Cribb won it fair;
He’s Champion of England, and now fills the chair._

_Cribb._ Thank’ye, gentleman, thank’ye--but as I see by our sporting oracle, “The Dispatch,” there’s a mill on foot--I’ll give you, “_May the best man win_.”

(_All drink_). May the best man win.

_Green._ May the best man vin.

_Log._ With all my heart; but, zounds! we’ve almost buzz’d the bowl. Let’s have another, and dy’e hear, Tom, serve it up in your prize cup; Jerry hasn’t seen it, and we mustn’t omit that.

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

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

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

_Tom._ Ditto for me.

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

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

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

_Tom._ Well, Jerry, after our last night’s divertisement at Almack’s, the set-to I gave you this morning at the great Commissary-General Jackson’s rooms cannot be better followed up than by a turn in the sporting parlour of honest Tom Cribb.

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

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

_Jerry._ Yes, and I’m thinking not a little to our dis-satisfaction. I am of opinion that every gentleman should practice the art of self defence, if it were only to protect him from the insults of vulgar ignorance; though I by no means set myself up as a champion for boxing.

_Log._ No, for if you did we’ve a champion here who would set you down. We’ll drink his health, and may he ever prove as successful as when he floor’d the Black Miller at Thistleton Gap. (_All drink_).

_Tom._ Tom, your health. (_Cribb rises_). Silence for Tom’s speech--doff your castor, Tom--that’s the time of day.

_Cribb._ Gentlemen, my humble duty to you. Here’s all your healths, and your families. Bless your soul, I can claim no merit for what I’ve done; fighting came naturally like, and thinking others might be as fond of it as myself, why, I always gave them a bellyfull.

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

_Log._ No, nor anything like it.

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

CRIBB’S PARLOUR.[32]

_Enter_ WAITER, _with the Champion’s Cup_.

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

_Jerry._ Well, this is the pleasantest way of cupping a man I ever heard of--but come, Bob, give us a song.

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

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

_Oh, when I was a little boy,
Some thirty years ago;
I prov’d such an anointed one,
They made me quite a show._
CHORUS.--_Such a knowing one I did grow._

_At tea I stole the sugar,
And I slyly pinched the girls;
I roasted mammy’s parrot,
Shod the cat in walnut shells.
Such a knowing, &c._

_At school I play’d the truant,
And would robbing orchards go;
I burned my master’s cane and rod,
And tore the fools’-cap, too.
Such a knowing, &c._

_As I learnt nought but mischief there,
To College I was sent,
Where I learn’d to game and swear,
On fun and frolic bent.
Such a knowing, &c._

_In town I mill’d the Charlies,
Aim’d at all within the ring;
Became one of the fancy,
And was up to everything.
Such a knowing, &c._

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

_Tom._ I was thinking about the women, Jerry; those enchanting girls we danced with a Almack’s--could they be the incognitas that challenged us thither? There is some secret charm about those girls that hasn’t allowed me to rest all night.

_Jerry._ Well, and do you know, Tom, to tell you the truth, I haven’t been a whit better than yourself. But, I say, only see how confoundedly the dustman’s getting hold of Logic,--we’ll funk him. (_Tom and Jerry smoke Logic_).

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

_Tom._ Well, come, come, rouse up; don’t be crusty, Bob--let’s start on some spree; no doubt we shall spring a lark somewhere. (_Rattles heard_).

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

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

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

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

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

Hark! the watchman springs his rattle,
Now the midnight’s lark begun;
Boxes crashing, lanthorns smashing,
Mill the Charlies--oh! what fun.

Pigs are hauling, girls are bawling,
Wretch, how durst you bang me so,
My sconce you’ve broken--for your joking,
You shall to the watch-house go.

SCENE.--_The City side of Temple Bar, by Moonlight. Watchbox--Watchmen crying the hour at different parts of the stage._

_Enter drunken_ BUCK.

_Buck._ Steady! steady!--now where shall I go?--I think I’ll go strait home. (_Reels_). No, I won’t! I’ll go where I think proper--I’ll go out again--I’ll go--where I like.

(_Exit._)

_Enter_ GAS-LIGHT MAN, _who lights the Lamp_.

SONG.--GAS.

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

_I’m saucy Jack, the gas-light man,
I put the prigs to rout;
For where I light do all they can,
They’re sure to be found out.
Your beaks and traps are fools to me,
For in the darkest night;
’Tis I that lets the people see,
And bring their tricks to light._

(_Exit_)

THE CITY WATCHMAN.

_Enter_ O’BOOZLE.--CHAUNT.

_Past twelve o’clock--a moon-light night!
Past twelve o’clock--and the stars shine bright!
Past twelve o’clock--your doors are all fast like you!
Past twelve o’clock--and I’ll soon be fast too!_

_Re-enter_ BUCK.

_Buck._ Past two did you say, Watchey? didn’t think it had been half so late--I think it’s time for me to go home to bed.

_O’Booz._ Why, yes, I thinks as how it is, Sir--you’ve been taking a little too much refreshment--steady! steady! hold up, Sir,

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

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

_O’Booz._ Good night, Sir--take care nobody robs your honour. Why, the gentleman’s left his vipe behind him, and I musn’t go off my beat to give it him: how unfortinate--I’ll call him back! Sir, Sir. (_Whispers_). Bless my soul how wery deaf that ere gentlemen is!--well I must take care of it for him till he calls again!--I don’t know what would become of these here young chaps if it wasn’t for such old coveys as we are--Oh, here comes that cursed Gas!

_Re-enter_ GAS.

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

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

_Gas._ Pooh! pooh! nonsense! I only throw a light upon the abuses of it. (_Pushes by O’Boozle_).

_O’Booz._ Hollo! you had better mind what you are at with your Jacob, or I shall just-- (_Sounds rattle_).

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

_O’Booz._ What I’ve got to say is this--yes, the matter of the business is this here:--Since you sprung up, my beat a’nt worth having--I havn’t had a broken head for these ten days past, and there’s no such thing as picking up a couple of sweethearts now--why there isn’t a dark corner in the whole parish.

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

_O’Booz._ Have they.

_Gas._ But good night, for I suppose as how you won’t stand a drop o’ nothin’, old Bacon-face?

_O’Booz._ No, I suppose I von’t stand a drop of nothing! young Calf’s-head? (_Exit Gas singing, “I’m saucy Jack” &c_).

_O’Booz._ I think I’ve given him his change. Well I don’t see the use of kicking my heels about here,--people’s clocks can tell them the time, just as well as I can, I’m sure! and a great deal better, if they knew all! so I shall go into my box, after I’ve called the half-hour, and have a regular snooze. It looks damned cloudy too.

CHAUNT.

_Half-past twelve--and a cloudy morning.
Half-past twelve--mind, I give you warning,
Half-past twelve--now I’m off to sleep!
And the morning soon my watch will keep!_

(_Goes into box and falls asleep_).

TOM, JERRY, AND LOGIC IN A ROW.

Mercy! what a din and clatter
Breaks the stillness of the night,
Lamps do rattle--’tis a battle,
Quick, and let us see the sight.

Old and young at blows like fury,
Tom and Jerry leads the row,
Milling, flooring all before them,
This is Life in London, boys.

_Enter_ KATE _and_ SUE _disguised as two young bucks_.

_Kate._ Well, here we are, just before them--and now to cure them of their love and rambling it must be our plan to involve them in all the scrapes we can, we shall never have a better opportunity.

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

SONG.--KATE.

AIR.--“_Ackee oh! Ackee oh!_”

_When the moon o’er Temple Bar
Glimmers slow, and gaslights glow;
And locked in sleep, grave big wigs are
Snoring sound asleep._

_We for pleasure gaily run,
Full of frolic, full of fun;
Whisking oh! frisking oh!
To pick up a beau._

_Sue._ Stand aside, my dear Kate, I see occasion for our being active here! If I may trust my eyes, yonder comes a lovely girl--I must have some sport with her.

_Enter_ MRS. TARTAR.

_Mrs. T._ There, I’ve shut up the shop, and as it’s Mr. Tartar’s turn to sit as constable of the night, I’ll just take him the street-door key, and then he can let himself in when he pleases--I hope the dear man won’t be long.

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

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

_Sue._ Nay, but my dear madam, when beauty like yours is neglected, it is the duty of every man. (_Kisses her_).

_Mrs. T._ Don’t take liberties, sir.

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

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

_Enter_ TOM, JERRY, _and_ LOGIC, _with Umbrella_.