ACT I.--SCENE I.

Morning rather misty; St. Paul's striking eleven, as the curtain rises to hurried music, and discovers a haberdasher's shop with plate-glass windows. _Snags_, _Mags_, and _Poppleton_ with sundry assistants, their hair in papers; but evidently preparing for business. Enter _Jeremiah Scout_ with a watering-pot; he sprinkles the floor, while the apprentices are arranging their neckcloths. _Snags_ coughs, evincing a recent recovery from influenza. He comes forward, and sings.

AIR--_Mr. Snags._--(Guy Mannering.)

Oh! sleep, Mr. Clipclose, You were up all the night; You commenced at "The Finish," And closed with a fight. Oh! keep yourself quiet, and sleep while you may, Nor dream that the bailiffs are over the way.

(_When the song ends, Poppleton advances to the front counter, and waves his yard. Dead silence. All turn to him._)

_Pop._--Gemmen, you know of late that trade is dull, And the till empty, while the town is full: Bills have come round, and bankers won't renew; Our master's dish'd, and we are in a stew.

_Mags._--Alas! my friends, what Poppy says is true; All's black without, and all within is blue: Our fates are certain,--Whitecross, or the Fleet; Writs are sued out, and bums are in the street.

_1st Apprentice_ (_a stout lad, with light hair, and enamelled shirt-studs--sobbing_).--Short as short credit, shorter than short whist, Short as a barmaid's anger when she's kiss'd; Shorter than all, ah! Clipclose, was thy span--Oh, such a master! such a nice young man!

_Snags_ (_with considerable firmness and feeling_).--Come, hang it! let's keep heart, tho' trade may fail; It's only lying six weeks in a jail! What with good company and sporting play, Kind friends, sound claret, and a lady gay, Speed the dull hours, and while the weeks away. Time's rapid flight men scarce have time to view, And, old scores clear'd, we open them anew.

(_He pauses, and mounts an elevated desk; his voice and attitude expressive of desperate determination._)

Here, to the last, I'll take my wonted stand, Receive the flimsies from each fair one's hand. Courage my trumps! (_to the apprentices_;) unpaper all your hair;} Let our gay banner wanton in the air} To pull in flats, and make the natives stare!}

(_All discard their papillotes, while the junior apprentice seizes a large placard, and suspends it over the door. On a dark ground, and in gold capitals, appears the device._

EMPORIUM OF ELEGANCE! _Clipclose and Co._ _No connexion over the way._ _The youngest may buy._ NO ADVANTAGE TAKEN HERE!!!

_Sundry persons collect about the door; and a yellow cab, No. 1357, stops._)

_Snags (aside) to the apprentices._--Covies, be brisk; our customers approach! Go, Pop, and hand yon lady from her coach. A simpering smile is still a tradesman's treasure; Give them enough of gammon, and short measure!

_Miss Juliana Smashaway enters._ _Mags bowing obsequiously._

_1st App._--Shall your cab wait, ma'am?

_Miss S._ Ask Jarvey if he's willing.

_Mags._--Gods! what a voice! its tones so soft, so thrilling!

_Pop._ (_aside._)--Now, blow me tight! her beauty's downright killing!

_Snags_ (_from his desk_).--Mags, could you give me coppers for a shilling?

_App._--What shall I show? silks? purple, yellow, green?

_Miss S._--I merely want a yard of bombasin.

_Snags_ (_in evident admiration_).--Lord! what a flash 'un! Attend that lady, Pop; And let her have the cheapest in the shop.

(_Poppleton introduces Miss Juliana Smashaway into the back show-room, and the scene closes._)