University of Virginia Library

A London Eclogue.

(Scene—A Saloon in Uxbridge House—Time, Noon—A breakfast-table set out—Cafe au lait, red herrings, Scotch marmalade, rizzer'd haddocks, anchovy toast, devil'd kidneys, best gunpowder, muffins buttered on both sides, etc.—Lord Anglesey discovered, solus, on a sofa, in a horizontal position, with his mouth full of muffin, reading the Intelligence;—his lordship's Sunday leg (a Cork one) stands near the fire on the opposite side of the room—A groom of the chambers announces “Mr. O'Connell.”—Enter Dan, hat in hand, bowing and scraping,)
Dan.
Lord Anglesey, Lord Anglesey!—Good day, my lord, good day!
I've just looked in, becase I've got a word or two to say;
Jack Lawless told me yesterday, 'tis now beyond a doubt,
That you're made Lord-Lieutenant, and to-morrow you set out!

Lord A.
Dan O'Connell, Dan O'Connell! ragged Jack has told you true;
I'm off by steam for Dublin, and so, I suppose, are you:
I'm off by steam for Dublin, Dan, and you'll be there ere long,
And, Daniel, we'll be friends, my boy—but keep a civil tongue!

Dan.
Why, that's the thing, Lord Anglesey, I come to speak of now;
I'm going over, and I mane to make a precious row!
I'll make a precious row, my lord, and rason good you see,
Becase they've made ould Doherty a Judge instead of me.
I mane to “agitate” the “Gem” as soon as I lave here,
And all the “Pisints” from the Giant's Causeway to Cape Clear;
I'll lave off whiskey, lave off wine, I'll lave off tay likewise,
And take to milk-and-wather, just to bother the Excise!
I'll have a run upon the banks—

Lord A.
Now gently, Mister Dan;
If you come here to bully me, you quite mistake your man—

Dan.
Oh! no, my Lord, you misconsave the maning of my call—

Lord A.
Then why bare-headed do you come?—or why d'ye come at all?

Dan.
Ah! asy now, Lord Anglesey, I'll tell yourself that thing;
You ax'd me once to dine—maybe you'll do that same next spring;
And so I think it's fair to say, whatever I may do,
I hope you won't consave that it's meant personal to you!

Lord A.
Oh! that's it, Daniel, is it?—Now, attend to what I say— (sippeth coffee)

I mean to put rebellion down, assume what shape it may— (more muffin)

If I'm obliged to hang you, Dan, my duty I must do;
But I beg you won't consider it as personal to you!

The “Great Agitator” is greatly agitated—puts his hand nervously to his stock—turns white, then red, then whitey-brown—hems—coughs— sneezes—hesitates whether to be impudent, or brush—Spies the Sunday leg across the room.)
The Liberator
(aside).
(Ah! sure he can't get at me; so I'll give him just a taste)
(aloud)
—Is that the way ye'd sarve me, then, ye big unnat'ral baste!
Ye're a Saxon—and a Welshman—and a Liar, to the fore!
Ye are, ye big desaver, ye— His Excellency pulleth up his work-a-day leg, a wooden one, from beneath the cushion, and hurleth it, totis viribus, at Dan's head.)

Oh, murther! where's the door?

(The Leg encountereth the Head, and Dan acknowledgeth the message with immediate prostration—The Lord Lieutenant putteth his best leg foremost, and hoppeth across to get hold of his Sunday one, in order to kick the intruder downstairs—Dan maketh a bolt, throweth open the door, and discovereth the grand staircase, Jack Lawless waiting at the bottom, inter alios flunkies—Dan is seen, like the Flying Dutchman, descending fifteen steps at a time.)
His Excellency
(from above).
John! Thomas! William! Harry! Peter!

Honest Jack
(from below).
Ah! now, what's the fun?

The Lord Lieutenant
(supra).
Kick those confounded rascals—

Dan
(in mid air).
Run! ye Devil's Darling, run!

(Tally ho! a fine burst—Hark forward! Dan dashes down the Burlington Arcade—Jack doubles, up Cork Street—the pack divides—“go it!”—Jack tumbles over an old applewoman, drops his new hat, which he had brought away from the Cider Cellar, by mistake, instead of his own old one; hounds at fault—Jack slips through Saville Passage—Stole away! Dan is run to earth by William, Harry, and Peter, at Truefit, the barber's; Lord Uxbridge comes up, and whips off the dogs.)
(Grand Hunting Chorus.)
Hark! how Vigo Lane, resounding,
Echoes to O'Connell's cry!
Hark! how all the streets surrounding
To his trembling voice reply! etc., etc.

(A recheat is winded, and the Curtain drops.)