University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

—London from Highgate—Milestone, L.—music.
Enter Dick, R. 2 E.
Dick.
Thus far I've climbed to Highgate's leafy crown,
To take a last look at old London town.
A weary journey, but since I have come it,
I may as well see summat from its summit:
Stretched at my feet as in a page mapped down,
Lies the long vistas of sweet Somers Town,
And Regent's Park—and further distant still,
The monarch of town mountains, Primrose Hill.
There's Hampstead Heath, where all the 'prentice folks,
On Sunday meet to ride congenial mokes;
The gardens of the Zoo I see down there,
Where noble folks were wont to take the air,
But now devoted to a common crew,
You don't know when you're walking, who is Zoo!
Farewell, old friends, we meet again no more,
(bells)
Those bells again—my weakness then is o'er!
Song, Air—“Village Bells.”—(T. T. Pede.)

Enter, R. 2 E., dancing, Rosemarye, the Cat, the Mysterious Mariner, and Muley—Air changes to “Mandolinata.”
   

Cat.	Rose.	Dick.	Mariner.	Muley.
R.				L.

Rose.
I've brought the cat with me, dear,
All the way up the hill.

Mariner.
I'm due at two, to view my crew,
And start as per printed bill.

Dick.
This is a glad surprise, dear,
Ready I am you see.

Muley.
Ole massa below, he know you go,
And follow immediately.

Dick.
In a jiffy, dear, with my cat I'm ready to go.

Rose.
Come along quick, or we'll all be collared, I know!

Mariner.
As later, later wears the day,
I cannot stay.

Muley.
And hear dis faithful nigger say,
He must “away.”

Ensemble.
Away! away! away!
We're off to foreign lands, where
Nobody can pursue.
I'll wait but a bit to pick up my kit,
Then over the ocean blue!
In spite of all contriving,
Speedily we'll be free;
So, off let us get, we'll puzzle them yet,
And give them the slip you'll see.

(dance)
Mariner.
(R. C.)
Come on, time presses; as I said I'm due
To meet my men at Queenhithe before two,
And now it's twelve.

Dick.
(R. C.)
At Queenhithe?—by the way,
Are you the Queenhithe Monster, as they say?

Muley.
(L.)
Dat's good!

Mariner.
(crosses, C.)
What, slave! do you forget your duty?
Remember, though so ugly, you're my booty.

Muley.
Forgive me!

Mariner.
I shall put you under lock—oh!
Hot press, and firmly bind you in Morocco
When we arrive.

Dick.
Is that our destination?
I've heard it's a pleasant situation,
But hot; and you're its Emperor!

Mariner.
(at back, L.)
Yet still
Emperors find some places hotter still!

Muley.
(looking down, R.)
I see ole Massa! coming up de hill.

Rose.
(looking down, R.)
Too true! and with him too I can discarn
That hated youth, Sir Highbury de Barne,
And both the 'prentices.

Dick.
(R. C.)
Well, then, we'll fly!
You're ready, sir?

Mariner.
(L. C.)
I am.

Rose.
(R.)
And I.

Muley.
(L.)
And I.

Concerted Piece.—“Mary Jane.”
Dick.
To live as a grocer or tailor,
May suit with a spirit less free;
I'd rather by far be a sailor,
Although I've a dread of the sea.

Mariner.
You'd better I think face the ocean,
And some inconvenience bear.
Than gain in the City promotion,
And live to be made a Lord Mayor!
Oh!

Dick.
Farewell! dear Mark Lane!
Across the boiling main,
Where the winds do blow, I am going to go;
And I'll not come back again.

Repeat ensemble.
Rose.
The mariner's words are, I hope, meant,
To cheer up this desolate child;
It's dreadfully wrong this elopement,
And history well may be riled.

Muley.
Just take a good meal upon starting,
And fix on some object your eye;
You'll find when at last we're departing,
You've not the least reason to cry.

(chorus as before)
At the conclusion, exeunt, L., all but the Cat, who comes down to lights to sing, when the cry of “Cat's meat” is heard outside, and it rushes off, L.—Music, hurry—then enter R. 2 E., Philpott, pulling on Sir Highbury, who pulls on Mrs. Callipash—Alderman pulls on Fitzbabbage with telescope.
Phil.
Oh, my!

Sir H.
Oh, my!

Mrs. C.
Oh, my!

Alder.
Oh, my!

Fitz.
Oh, my!

Sir H.
(R.)
I'd not a notion it was half so high.
You said it was a bank—'twas all pretence.

Fitz.
(L. C.)
It is a bank (Miss Coutts's), in one sense.

Alder.
(R.)
It's hard to drag me here against my will;
Whenever I venture climbing I get ill.
And now we're here there's nothing gained, good lack,
And all that's left is to go Holloway back.

Mrs. C.
(R.)
Why am I lugged up I should like to know,
For my part I'd have let the hussy go.
I shan't recover from this frightful strain.
How am I going to get down again?

Phil.
(L.)
Slide down, old girl.

Fitz.
That speech you'll find enrages.
There's a slide difference between your ages.
I'm the most aggrieved—I burst with spite,
And what is worse, I've lost my appetite.
Love has such wonders worked in me, I fear,
I shudder at the very name of beer.
Alls up with Allsop, he no more for me brews,
In fact I've bid a jew to all that he brews
And all because to work revenge, good lack,
I took your hateful money.

Sir H.
Give it back!
Consider it a joke, or that I lent it.

Phil.
Return the money, Fitz!

Fitz.
I can't—I've spent it.

Phil.
Dishonest youth, to misapply that pelf!
I only wish I'd had the chance myself.

Alder.
Excuse a tear, she was my only child,
An angel, but considerably spiled.
When she was in good spirits, sir, or merry—
Oh! she was very entertaining—very.
The parent's retrospective vision marks
Her numerous, though somewhat cruel, larks.
This very morning—

Fitz.
Speak out, heavy father!

Sir H.
This is the proper business, ain't it?

Alder.
Rather!
The tea leaves—

Omnes.
Well!

Alder.
My nightcap was again in 'em.

Mrs. C.
That's nothing; p'raps it had been used for straining 'em.

Alder.
The soap was in my broth.

Sir H.
The oddest savouring.

Mrs. C.
That I excuse—perhaps 'twas used for flavouring.

Alder.
But make out how, ma'am, (here I chance defy!)
My shaving brush got in the beefsteak pie.

Sir H.
Was she as wild as this?

Phil.
Ah, slightly worse!
It wasn't safe to leave about a purse.
Upon our chairs she'd plaster cobbler's wax,
And fill our Sunday boots with carpet tacks.
Reducing to a hobble us poor bipeds.

Fitz.
She spoilt our rest by making apple-pie beds.

Mrs. C.
Blew iron filings into all the locks,
And sewed the sleeves up of my smartest frocks.

Alder.
I could have made a very charming kid of her,
But on the whole I'm happy I've got rid of her.

Sir H.
Against her now my heart has turned Stone-henge.
Upon that 'prentice though I vow revenge;
He's lost me a rich wife, and young and pretty.
What gall'd me most though is—he snubbed the City;
The Mansion House he spoke of with a sneer,
In terms—well I won't mansion house severe.

Alder.
The very thought turns me all over shivery.
I'll spare you what he chose to call the Livery:
Said all we loved was gloating over treasure,
And eating the sum-turtle of our pleasure.

Mrs. C.
Rank insurrection!

Fitz.
What d'ye mean to do?
You don't seem in a hurry to pursue.

Phil.
If this is your revenge, they'll get the best of it.

Mrs. C.
I don't think they're gone East.

(looking off all points)
Alder.
No, that's the West of it.
That would be homeward—woman, I declare,
You've got no sense, that's not the South—Nor there.

Sir H.
I've an idea. (bringing them down)


Fitz.
Nonsense!—broach it soon.

Sir H.
We'll overtake the wretches by balloon!

Alder.
Good! And as this idea is your own,
You are at liberty to go alone.

Sir H.
Oh, generous man!

Fitz.
This artful little fox,
Suggests that you will find them at the Docks.

Phil.
No doubt! Sir Highbury, to vengeance pass on
Out with your new balloon.

Sir H.
All right! Boy, gas on.

Concerted Piece.—“Johnny Smoker” (parody on A German Band).
Dance off.