Act 3.

Life amongst the Fancy!

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.

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_.

_Jerry._ Ay, ay, ay, put down the rain napper, Doctor, the shower is over now. What’s the matter?

_Mrs. T._ I’m in the greatest distress imaginable.

_Tom._ Holloa, what’s the row?--a woman in distress! Where’s the man would refuse his assistance?

_Kate._ Who are you, sir?

_Sue._ Yes, who are you, sir?

_Tom._ What, show fight! I’m your man; (_To Kate_).

_Jerry._ And I’m your man, my little one. (_To Sue_).

_Log._ (_To Mrs. T._) And I’m your man, ma’am.

_Mrs. T._ Watch! watch! (_Rattles are heard_).

_Enter_ TEDDY M’LUSH, _an Irish Watchman_.

_M’L._ Ulloa, here! What the devil have you got a fire?

_Tom._ What do you ask for your beaver, Charley?

_Mrs. T._ Why, my goodness, watchman, you are quite drunk.

_M’L._ Eh, drunk are you,--then I’ll take care of you.

_Mrs. T._ But I want to give charge of these two gentlemen, who have behaved in the most extravagant manner--almost kissed me to death.

_M’L._ Oh, you want to charge these gentlemen in an extravagant manner, for almost kissing them to death, do you?--but I’ll soon put a stop to it.

_Kate._ That’s right, watchman.

_Tom._ Zounds! fellows, do you think we’re to be bullied in this fashion?

_M’L._ Oh, you’re bullies dressed in the fashion, are you?--I’ll soon take charge of ye. (_Springs rattle--it is answered without_, R. _and_ L).

_Tom._ A surprise! I’ll make sure of this fellow, at all events. Now, Jerry, I’ll show you how to box a Charley.

_Log._ Stop, my boys, secure your tattlers. (_They put up their watches_).

_Tom._ Now, go it, Jerry,--can you play at cricket?

_Jerry._ Yes, Tom.

_Tom._ Then catch--here’s the gentleman’s toothpicker, and here’s his glim. (_Throw stick and lanthorn to Jerry_).

_Tom upsets O’Boozle’s box.--enter Watchmen.--General row--Rattles--Logic fights M’Lush.--Kate, Mrs. Turtar and Sue, run off.--Green enters with a bloody nose and two watchmen; he runs off.--Jerry fights with three watchmen.--Tom fights with three watchmen, floors them._

CHORUS. (_Omnes_).

AIR.--_From the Spectacle of “Don Juan.”_

_Watch! watch! watch! Lord how they’re bawling! Catch! catch! catch! That’s if you can. Scratch! scratch! scratch! Pulling and hauling-- Wretch! wretch! wretch! You are the man. Patch! patch! patch! Lots of heads breaking! Fetch! fetch! fetch! The constable, John. Match! match! match! Match them for raking. Watch! watch! watch! My watch is gone._

_Mill renewed.--The Women get away as before.--Tom and Jerry perform prodigies of valour, but are at length overpowered by numbers, and borne off.--Green enters alarmed, flies on all sides for safety, but is at length caught up by a watchman in his arms, and carried off.--Scene closes on two watchmen cuffing one another by mistake._

TOM AND JERRY IN TROUBLE AFTER A SPREE.

AND please your Worship here’s three fellows Been hammering of us all about; Broke our boxes, lanthorns, smellers, And almost clos’d our peepers up.

Our pipkins broke, Sir!--’tis no joke, Sir, Faith we’re crush’d from head to toe; We’re not the men, Sir!--Hold your tongue, Sir, You must find bail before you go!

SCENE.--_Interior of St. Dunstan’s Watch-house.--Mr. Tartar, Constable of the Night, discovered at table; pen, ink, &c.--Watchman in attendance. Noise heard without.--Cries of “Charge! charge!”_

_Mr. T._ Holloa! a charge! I must get into my big chair, pull off my night-cap, cock my wig, and look official. (_Watchman opens the door, and is knocked down by rush_).

_Enter_ TOM, JERRY, LOGIC, WATCHMEN, KATE, JANE, SUE, MRS. TARTAR, O’BOOZLE, _and_ M’LUSH, _very uproariously_. MRS. TARTAR _makes signs to_ MR. TARTAR.

_Omnes._ Mr. Constable! Mr. Constable--Please your worship, this man!--this woman!

_Mr. T._ Silence! silence!--Eh, the devil! Sally Tartar, my wife!--and winking at me not to take any notice.

_Omnes._ Please your worship--I--I----

_Mr. T._ Silence! silence! Watchman, do you speak first.

_Mrs. T._ (_aside to Tom_). Be quiet--I’ll soon turn the tables.

_M’L._ Plaise your honour, I have brought before your worship a most notorious substitute and common street talker, who, for her foul doings, has been cooped up in the Poultry Compter, as often as there are years in a week.--I caught her charging these honest gentlemen, (_pointing to Tom and Jerry_) in a most impositious manner, and when I civilly axed her, how she could think of getting drunk, and acting so, she called her bullies here. (_Pointing to Kate and Sue_).

_Kate._ Zounds, fellow, you don’t mean us?

_Sue._ Why, you rascal, I’ll twist your neck for you.

_M’L._ Yes; they, your worship, who half murdered me first, and then buried poor little Teddy O’Boozle in his box, that he mightn’t prevent them murdering t’other half of me; och, they’re terrible desperadoes!

_Kate._ Here’s a scoundrel for you!

_Mr. T._ Silence! we’ll soon get to the bottom of all this.

_Kate._ Zounds, sirrah, we gave the charge ourselves. (_To M’Lush_).

_M’L._ Och, murder!

_Kate._ Those were the assailants. (_Pointing to Tom, Jerry, and Logic_).

_Mr. T._ This is a very intricate affair.

_M’L._ Sure, won’t I be after telling you my own story:--as I was going my rounds quietly enough, up comes these young sparks, and gave me such a maulagaran, that they knock’d me into the middle of next week--besides tipping me this here black eye--only see how red it is!

_Mr. T._ I’ll soon set all to rights,--first let me hear what you have to say to all this, woman: these are very serious allegations. (_To Mrs. Tartar_).

_Tom._ Aye, aye, let the woman speak.

_O’Booz._ Oh, the woman will speak fast enough.

_Mrs. T._ Hold your tongue fellow.--Please your worship, it’s all false from beginning to end--it’s he that’s drunk! nay, you may perceive he’s so drunk he cannot even give a charge--doesn’t know one person from the other, and can scarcely stand.

_M’L._ Plaise your honour it’s only the ague, I have it every Saturday night regularly, what I’ve said is all true, so help me Bob,--sure, she’s not a woman to put whiskey in a jug, and throw stones at it.

_Mr. T._ Why, you impudent vagabond you’re drunk now--instead of giving charge of her, the good lady ought to have given charge of you,--what business had you off your beat, and in such a situation?

_Tom and Jerry._ Aye, what business had you off your beat, old Charley?

_M’L._ They bate me off my beat.

_Mrs. T._ I give charge of him, your worship.

_Mr. T._ And I take it--off with him to the black hole.

_Tom._ Aye, aye, take him up the spout.

_Mr. T._ My dear wife! (_Embraces Mrs. Tartar_). My dear Sally Tartar.

_M’L._ His wife! Och, by the powers, then I’ve caught a Tartar.

_Mr. T._ Take him away.

_M’L._ Och, sure I’m the boy that cares for nobody--so there’s my coat, there’s my hat, there’s my rattle and lanthorn,--and to the devil I pitch the whole of you. (_He is carried off_).

_Kate._ They musn’t get off so easily. (_Aside_).

_Tom._ A fortunate turn-up for us, faith.

_Mr. T._ Gentlemen, you are at liberty.

_O’Booz._ Stay, your honour, I’ve got a charge. This here chap (_pointing to Tom_) with the Roosian head of hair--he comes up to me like a warment--

_Tom._ Why, you impudent--(_Knocks O’Boozle down--a row ensues_).

_Mr. T._ Silence! silence!--be quiet all of you, can’t you?

_Kate._ Mr. Constable, I have a charge--(_to O’Boozle_). Watchman, there’s a crown--what I say, swear to. (_Aside_).

_O’Booz._ I’ll swear to anything, your honour.

_Log._ What the devil’s in the wind now?

_Kate._ I charge those gentlemen with assaulting this young woman--(_pointing to Jane_)--the watchman saw the whole transaction.

_O’Booz._ I’ll swear it, your worship.

_Tom._ Why, zounds, fellow, I never saw the girl!

_Sue._ (_To Jerry_). Come, sir, you can’t say you never saw her.

_Jerry._ Why I have a recollection of seeing her somewhere, though I am at fault as to the place, at present.

_Kate._ It’s a clear case.

_O’Booz._ I’ll swear to it, your worship!

ROUND. (_Omnes_).

AIR.--“_’Twas you, Sir._”

_’Twas you, Sir, ’twas you, Sir; Your worship, it is true, Sir, ’Twas you that pull’d the girl about, ’Twas you, Sir, you._

_Untrue, Sir, untrue, Sir, It was the man in blue, Sir, ’Twas he that pulled the girl about, ’Tis true, Sir, true._

_No, no, Sir, no, no, Sir, How can you tell lies so, Sir? I did not pull the girl about, But I know who._

_Mr. T._ Gentlemen, here are four witnesses against you; and ’tis my painful duty to commit you, unless you can find good bail.

_Tom._ We’ll give you leg bail.

_Kate._ Aye, find good bail, and mind that it is good. There’s our card--come, watchman--Come, Sir Jeremy.

_Sue._ Good-night--Sorry to leave you in such bad company--but beauty calls; we must obey.

_Tom._ Aye, aye, your mamma waits for you.

_Log._ Go and get a pennyworth of elycampane.

_Jerry._ There’s a pair of men-milliners--I say; go home and sleep under the counter.

(_Exeunt Sue, Kate, and watchmen_).

TOM AND JERRY AMONG THE “SWELL BROAD COVES.”

At St. James’s they dine, when, flushed with new wine, To the Gaming Tables they reel, Where blacklegs and sharps, often gammon the flats, As their pockets do presently feel.

Success at first Jerry delighted, But ere the next morning he found That his purse was most cleverly lighted Of nearly Five Thousand Pounds.

SCENE.--_Interior of a fashionable Hell at the West-end of the Town; a large looking-glass in the flat._

_Enter_ GROOM PORTER _and_ MARKERS.

_G. Porter._ Come, lads, bustle about; play will soon begin--some of the Pigeons are here already, the Greeks will not be long following.

_Enter_ KATE, SUE, TRIFLE, _and_ GREEN, _the latter with a large patch on his nose_.

_Kate._ Assist us in this, my dear Trifle, and we ask no more.--The card we left at the Watchhouse will soon bring our sparks to demand satisfaction,--you and Green must act the parts of conciliators, and propose to end the affair in a game of cards; the insight you have given Green and us into all the arcana of play, will enable us, with the aid of the servant, to fleece them to admiration; thus we may pursue our plan, and cure them of this first of vices of Life in London, gaming! and save their fortune from those who may play for a less disinterested stake.

_Trifle._ I’faith you ought to be very much obliged to me, girls, _pan_ hanour, for letting Green into the secret,--it cost me fiteen cool thousands, demme! but I’ll assist you.--Green, my dear fa-e-llow, take your post near the glass while they’re playing; and, by the number of fingers you hold up, we shall easily know how many honours they have, and every other particular.

_Green._ Vith the greatest of pleasure.--I suppose I may hold up my thumb as well as my fingers, may’nt I--because they may have five honours? you know!

_Sue._ Oh, certainly, Mr. Green--Ah, man, vain glorious man, how easily art thou duped?

_Trifle._ They come, you must mind your eye, pan hanour, Green.

_Green._ Oh, you shall find me quite avake--I’m glad I got avay and vas’nt taken to the vatchouse; I was forc’d to give half-a-crown though.

_Enter_ TOM, JERRY, _and_ LOGIC.

_Tom._ Where is this Sir Jeremy Brag? Oh, here you are, Sir--well met.

_Trifle._ Ah, my dear Tom, how are you?

_Green._ My dear Corinthian, how do you do? I’m glad they didn’t put you in the black ’ole.

_Tom._ Excuse me a moment, Green, I have an affair with this gentleman that will not admit of a moment’s delay.

_Trifle._ What, my friend, Brag,--honest Sir Jeremy? You musn’t hurt him, he’s a cursed good fellow.--It must be some mistake.

_Green._ Yes, it must be some mistake.

_Kate._ Entirely a mistake, I assure you--I’m extremely sorry, if that will give you any satisfaction.

_Tom._ Oh, if you apologize, I’m satisfied; otherwise nothing would have done, but Chalk Farm! pistols! half-past six! pooh!

_Log._ That’s the time of day my flower.

_Green._ Vell, I’m glad it’s settled without bloodshed--Chalk Farm! pistols! half-past six, and pooh!

_Jerry._ (_to Green_). Sorry to see your nose in mourning, Green--here, Waiter, take my hat. (_Gives waiter the Charley’s old beaver to take care of, who brushes it up ironically, and takes it off_).

_Green._ What say you to burying all differences in a friendly game of vhist? Trifle and I vill cut out.

_Trifle._ Yes; it’s too great an exertion for me to play, _pan han-our_--I’m only scarcely endurable to the fatigue of looking on, _r-e-a-l-y_.

_Tom._ A rubber at whist? I have no objection,

_Jerry._ Nor I--you’ll not find me at fault here, coz--no one is better skilled in the mystery of the odd trick, than I am, I flatter myself.

_Trifle._ (_To Tom_). Well you and your country friend can pair with Sir Jeremy and the Captain, and this worthy vegetable, Green, and I will see fair play, _pan ha_nour.

(_Kate, Sue, Tom and Jerry sit down to cards; Trifle and Green stand behind them, overlooking Tom’s and Jerry’s hand_).

_Log._ (_Drinking and looking on_). They’ll be done, as sure as my name is Logic.--Upon that suit some of the best judges in London have been had.--Inviting a man to a swell dinner, and making him pay five guineas a mouthful for it afterwards, is no new feature of Life in London--Go it, ye flats--“_Thus for men the women fair_,” (_singing_). Why, there’s that fellow giving the office to his pal now: well it’s no business of mine. Go it my pippins--what, Tom, have you got the uneasiness?--“_What is beauty but a bait._” (_Sings again_).

_Tom._ (_Rising and throwing down cards_). Oh, if you can’t play better than that, Jerry, we’d better do nothing at all!

_Log._ (_Singing_). “_Oft repented when too late._”

_Jerry._ Who can play while the Doctor’s singing?

_Log._ I knew how it would be--did you hear anything knock, Tom?

_Jerry._ (_Walks about, and, by mistake, takes Logic’s hat_). Damn the cards!

_Sue._ (_To Jerry_). Come, sir, never be downhearted, bad luck now, better another time.

_Jerry._ Indeed! I’m not going to try, though.

_Kate._ Very sorry, Mr. Corinthian--shall be happy to give you your revenge some other evening!

_Log._ Well, Tom, are you clean’d out?

_Tom._ Clean’d out! both sides; look here--pockets to let!--here have been two playing four; and we have stood the nonsense in prime style.

_Log._ Well, don’t grumble--every one must pay for his learning--and you wouldn’t bilk the schoolmaster, would you? But come, I’m getting merry; so if you wish for a bit of good truth, come with me, and let’s have a dive among the Cadgers in the Back Slums, in the Holy Land.

_Jerry._ Back Slums--Holy Land!--I’m at fault again.

_Log._ Why, among the beggars in Dyot Street, St. Giles’s.

_Tom._ Beggars! ah, we shall be very good figures for the part. (_Turning out his pockets_).

_Log._ We must masquerade it there.

_Kate._ (_To Sue, aside_). And so must we--come, Trifle,

[_Exeunt Omnes._

There’s a difference between a beggar and a queen, And the reason I’ll tell you why; A queen cannot swagger, not get drunk like a beggar Nor be half so happy as I,--as I.

SCENE--_Back Slums in the Holy Land._

MR. JENKINS, SOLDIER SUKE, DINGY BET, LITTLE JEMMY, CREEPING JACK, RAGGED DICK, _and other well-known Characters discovered_.

SONG.--MR. JENKINS.

AIR.--“_It was one Frosty Morning._”

_Cadgers make holiday, Hey, for the maunder’s joys, Let pious ones fast and pray, They save us the trouble, my boys._

_On the best peck and booze we’ll live, ’Tis fit we their blunt should spend; For what to us they give, Tenfold to the saints they lend. Rumpti bumpti bay, &c._

_With our doxies, great as a Turk, We taste all life can give; For who but a slave would work, When he like a prince might live? Then lustily call away, Cadgers keep up the ball, Never mind what’s to pay, The public pays for all. Rumpti, bumpti bay, &c._

(_Omnes Chorus the burthen of the Song--dancing grotesquely_).

_Omnes._ Ha! ha! ha! (_Billy heard without_). Eh! stand aside--here comes Billy Waters.

_Enter_ BILLY WATERS, _dancing_.

_Billy._ Ah; how do you do, my darley? How you do, Massa Jenkins?--I drink with you. (_Drinks deep: Jenkins takes the pot away_).--And you Massa Jack, I drink wid you, too. (_To Creeping Jack_).--Your helt,--your good helt, ladies! (_Jack takes pot away_).

_Jack._ I say, Billy, you’re biting your name in it.

_Billy._ Yes, me likes to bite my name in such goot stuff as that.

_Mr. J._ Gemman, let’s purceed to business--I’ve got to inform you o’ summat.

_Jack._ Vat’s that ’ere?

_Mr. J._ Vy, that ’ere, is this ’ere--I begs to obsarve that the time is come when you may all consider yourselves independent gemmen; for if business should fail, you can at any time retire on a pension now.

_Jack._ As how?

_Mr. J._ As how? Vy, this as how. The Mende-_city_ Society, I believe they call themselves, have kindly purwided a fund for us gemmen; so, if anybody offers you less nor a mag, or a duece, vy, you may say with the poet, “Who vou’d his farthings bear? ven he himself might his quivetus make vith a bare Bodkin.”

_Omnes._ Bravo!

_Billy._ Dat dam goot--me like dat!--that Bodkin has dam goot point!

_Mr. J._ It was but t’other day they took’d me up; slapp’d a pick-ax into one of my mauleys, and shov’d a shovel into t’other, and told me to vork--says I, gemmen, I cant’t vork, cause vy, I’m too veak--so they guv’d me two bob, and I bolted!

_Beggar._ You did quite right; vell, vile I can get fifteen bob a day by gammoning a maim, the devil may vork for me. If any lady or gemmen is inclined for a dance, I’ll nash my arm-props in a minute. (_Throws down his crutches_).

_Billy._ An I play you de tune in de key of de X, Y, Z.

_Jack._ We haven’t had a better job a long vile nor the shabby genteel lay. That, and the civil rig, told in a pretty penny--Come, here’s the ould toast, “Success to Cadging.”

_Omnes._ (_Drinking_). Success to Cadging.

_Mr. J._ Does any gemman understand these here Tread Mills that have got such a footing?

_Jack._ Silence! Gemmen:--I’m a-going to make a hobservation: Mr. Jenkins means them there Mills as makes you vork vether there’s any vork or no--I can only say this here, gemmens, if them there mills are encouraged, it von’t be vorth no body’s vile to exercise vone’s calling--because, vy, von may as vell go and vork for one’s living at once--but the subject von’t bear not no thinking on.

_Omnes._ Not by no means. (_General groans_).

_Billy._ Oh, curse a de tread mill, me no like a de “here we go up, up, up,” and “down you go down, down, down,” an if you no work, a great lump of wood come and knock you down so--(_Striking Beggar on head, with fiddle, who falls down_).

_Beggar._ Oh! he has split my Jemmy!

_Billy._ (_Picking him up_). Poor fellow, him werry sorry, so dere no harm done. Gemman of de Noah Ark Society, as Little Jemmy here is no starter, I move he be put in de chair a-top o’ de table.

_Omnes._ Bravo! Jemmy in the chair. (_Jemmy is put on the table_).

_Mr. J._ Silence for the cheer.

_Jemmy._ Gemman, I shall return thanks--here’s all your jolly good healths, and success to flat catching.

_Omnes._ Bravo! bravo!

SONG.--MR. JENKINS, _and barking chorus of Beggars_.

AIR.--_Bow, Wow, Wow._

_That all men are beggars, ’tis very plain to see, Tho’ some they are of lowly, and some they are of high degree; Your ministers of state will say, they never will allow That kings from subjects beg, but that you know is all bow wow. Bow wow, wow! fol lol, &c._

_Then let us cadgers be, and take in all the flats we can, Experience we know full well, my boys, it is that makes the man; And for experience all should pay, that Billy will allow, And as for conscience that of old we know is all bow wow. Bow, wow, wow! fol lol, &c._

_Enter_ KATE, SUE, JANE, TRIFLE, _and_ GREEN, _disguised as Beggars_.

_Sue._ I do not see them here yet.

_Kate._ They’ll not be long, depend on’t,--have I sufficiently disfigured my charms?

_Sue._ Yes, they cannot surely recognise us in these disguises?

_Trifle._ Dear me, a very dreadful perfume, _pan hanour_--essence of mendicity--I’m sorry I came.

_Mr. J._ (_To Green_). Halloa, my little ’un?

_Green._ Eh! come you a done now; you a done vith you.

_Mr. J._ Sluice your dominos--vill you?--

_Green._ Vot! I never plays at dominoes--It’s too wulgar.

_Mr. J._ Vy, then vash your ivories?

_Green._ I’ve got no hiveries to vash.

_Mr. J._ Drink, vill you? don’t you understand Hinglish?

_Green._ Eh! drink--quite a gemman, I declare.--(_While Green drinks Jenkins dances, expectantly_).

_Ragged Jack._ I say, Jenkins has larned to dance since he’s been on the Mill--vy Jenkins you’ll dance your calves into your shoes if you don’t mind.

_Mr. J._ (_To Green, looking at pot_). Vy, I say, you’ve been eating red herrings for dinner, my young un!

_Green._ I vas dry, and that’s the fact on’t.

_Billy._ (_Offering bottle to Sue_). I say, Misses, you drink, eh! my Buckra Beaudly?

_Jemmy._ Gemman, have you ordered the peck and booze for the evening?

_Sold. Suke._ Aye, aye, I’ve taken care of that--shoulder of veal and garnish--Turkey and appendleges--Parmesan--Filberds--Port and Madery.

_Billy._ Dat dam goot, me like a de Madery--Landlord, here you give this bag of broken wittals, vot I had give me to-day, to some genteel dog vot pass your door: and you make haste wid de supper, you curse devil you!

BEGGAR’S OPERA. TOM, JERRY, AND LOGIC, AMONG THE CADGERS IN THE HOLY LAND.

Now to keep up the spree, Tom, Jerry, and Logic, Went disguis’d to the Slums in the Holy Land; Through each cribb and each court, they hunted for sport, Till they came to the BEGGAR’S OPERA so nam’d; But sure such a sight they had never set sight on, The quintessence of Tag, Rag, and Bob-tail was there: Outside of the door Black Molly was fighting. And pulling Mahogany Bet by the hair. There was cobblers and tailors, sweeps, cadgers, and sailors, Enough to confound Old Nick with their din; There was bunters, and ranters and radical chaunters, Clubbing their half-pence for quarterns of gin.

_Enter_ TOM, JERRY, _and_ LOGIC--_disguised as Beggars, with Placards on their backs_--TOM’S “_Burnt Out--lost my little all._”--JERRY’S “_Deaf and Dumb._”--LOGIC’S “_Thirteen Children._” _&c._

_Sue._ Here they are--I know them in spite of their rags.

_Tom._ This, my dear Jerry, is a rich page in the book of life, which will save you many a pound, by exposing the imposition of street mendicity.--It almost staggers belief that hypocrisy is so successful, and that the fine feeling of the heart should become so blunted, as to laugh at the humanity of those who step forward to relieve them.

_Log._ ’Tis the blunt that does it--but stow magging, Tom, or we shall get blown.

_Jerry._ Tom, here’s a group of blackbeetles--do you see those lovely mendicants?

_Tom._ Beauty in rags--I do--Cupid imploring charity, I’ll relieve him, for I’ll be after that match-girl directly.

_Jerry._ And I’ll chant a few words to that beautiful ballad-singer.

_Log._ And I’ll take pity on that charming beggar.

SONG OF THE CADGERS IN THE HOLY LAND.

_Come, let us dance and sing, While fam’d St. Giles’ bells shall ring, Black Billy scrapes the fiddle strings, Little Jemmy fills the Chair. Frisk away, let’s be gay, This is Cadger’s holiday; While knaves are thinking, we are drinking, Bring in more gin and beer. Come, let us dance and sing, &c._

_Here’s Dough-boy Bet, and Silver Sall, Lushy Bob, and Yankee Moll, And Suke, as black as any pall, The pinks of the Holy Land. Now, merry, merry, let us be, There’s none more happier sure than we, For what we get we spend it free, As all must understand! Come, let us dance, &c._

_Now he that would merry be, Let him drink and sing as we, In palaces you shall not see, Such happiness as here. Then booze about, our cash an’t out, Here’s sixpence in a dirty clout; Come landlord bring us in more stout, Our pension-time draws near. Come, let us dance, &c._

_Enter_ LANDLORD _with supper_.

_Land._ Now, your honours, here’s the rum peck, here’s the supper.

_Billy._ Eh, de supper! de supper! come along, (_After striking Creeping Jack on fingers with knife_). You damn nasty dog! what for you put your dirty fingers in de gravy? you call that gentlemans? you want your finger in de pie, now you got him there!

_Jack._ I only wish’d to taste the stuffining.

_Billy._ And now you taste de carver knife instead! (_takes candle, and looks at supper_). Vy, what him call dis?

_Land._ Why, the turkey and the pie, to be sure.

_Billy._ De turkey and de pie! I tink you said de turkey and de pie,--what! de turkey without de sassinger! him shock--him wouldn’t give pin for turkey without dem--me like a de Alderman in chain.

_Land._ I’m very sorry, Mr. Waters, but--

_Billy._ You sorry! I’m sorry for my supper, you damn dog.

_Mr. J._ (_To Landlord_). Vhat! sarve up a turkey without sassiges,--you’re a nice man I don’t think.

_Jack._ (_To Landlord_). I tell you vhat, young man, vhen you talk to gemmen, larn to take off your hat.

_Jemmy._ Vy there’s no lemon to the weal, nor hoyster sasse to the rump stakes.--It’s shocking, infamous neglect, that’s vot it is.

_Mr. J._ (_To Landlord_). Vy, who do you suppose would eat rump stakes without ayesters? I’ve a great mind to smash your countenance for you!--You ought to have your head punched you ought!

_Jemmy._ Here’s no filberds to the Port, nor devils to the Madery, nather.

_Land._ Egad, I think there’s devils enough to it. (_Aside_). Gentlemen, the deficiencies shall be supplied directly. (_He is hunted off_).

_Mr. J._ Hit him; he’s got no friends.

_Jemmy._ We must go to some hother tavern, if we’re neglected in this here manner.

_Mr. J._ You may do as you please, gemmen, but for my part, I shall certainly use some other _hotel_.

_Billy._ You perfectly right, Massa Jenkins, we must use some other hot-hell.

_Jerry._ (_To Sue, she having attracted his attention_). And so you sell ballads, eh?

_Sue._ Yes, Sir, three a penny; but if you like to take twelve, I’ll make you an allowance.

_Jerry._ Oh, I’ll have the allowance by all means.

_Sue._ (_Singing_).

“_Relieve my woes, my wants distressing; And Heaven reward you with its blessing._”

_Jerry._ Enchanting vagrant! come here, and let me bargain with you. (_Takes Sue aside_).

_Tom._ (_To Kate, bringing her down_, C.--_in like manner_). And so you make matches, do you?

_Kate._ Yes!--as you’ll find out by and by. (_Aside_).

_Tom._ But ’ant these brimstone dealings contagious? you little flower of--hum-um-um---- (_Takes her up in a corner_).

_Log._ (_To Jane, bringing her down_ R.--) You’ve moved me so, that I could bestow every mag I’ve got, you beautiful beggar, I could.

(_Knocking without_).

_Enter_ LANDLORD, _running_, L,----_Previously to which, Kate and Sue have, unobserved, given beggars money, and entered into communication with them pointing aside to Tom, Jerry and Logic._

_Billy._ Vat de matter, vat broke, eh? (_To Landlord_).

_Land._ Gentlemen vagabonds; the traps are abroad, and half a thousand beadle and beaksmen are now about the door.

_Billy._ De beak! oh curse a de beak!

_Jemmy._ Gemmen! gemmen! (_Knocking on table to command attention_).

_Jack._ Silence for the chair!

_Jemmy._ Put out the lights, put out the lights, every one shift for himself. Here, Bob, carry me up the ladder, good luck to you do, Bob.

_Billy._ Landlord! landlord, you dog! which door de beak come in at.

_Land._ At the front.

_Billy._ Vy, den carry me out at de back door, you Dick.

[_He and Jemmy are carried out.--Lights are put out--General consternation._

FINALE.--TOM, JERRY, LOGIC, SUE, KATE, JANE, MR. JENKINS, CREEPING JACK, _and_ BEGGARS.

AIR.--“_Zitti, Zitti--Piano, Piano!_”

_Mr. Jenkins._

_Up the ladder, softly creeping, Let us gently steal away, Traps without their watch are keeping, There we’ll let the rascals stay._

_Creeping Jack._

_Traps without, their watch are keeping, Tread softly; no delay; Up the ladder slily creeping Through the back door and away._

_Tom, Jerry, Logic, Kate, Sue, and Jane._

_To my arms, love, softly creeping, To bliss we’ll steal away; Suspense ’tis idle keeping, Seize pleasure while you may._

_Where are you? where are you? To my arms, love, softly creeping, To bliss we’ll steal away, Softly, softly; lightly, lightly; away; away! away!_

_Kate, Sue, and Jane, as Tom, Jerry, and Logic advance, attracted by their voices, adroitly substitute Dingy Bet, Soldier Suke, and another, in the places of themselves.--Drop falls on Tom, Jerry, and Logic, carrying their beggarly bargains off in great exultation.--Kate, Sue, and Jane enjoying the joke in the background._

JERRY LEARNING TO SPAR.

Now Jerry’s become a fancy blade, To Jackson’s he often goes And to shew his skill in the milling trade, He crack’d poor Logic’s nose.

He gloried in having a turn-up, And was always the first in a lark, To bang and wallop the Charlies, And pommel them in the dark.

SCENE.--_Jackson’s Rooms, in Bond Street.--Tom, Jerry, and Logic discovered._

_Life in London with us is a round of delight; It is larking all day, sprees and rambles all night; Tom, Jerry, and Logic have ever the best Of the coves in the East, and the swells in the West; Such pals in a turn-up, so bang up and merry, As Jerry, Tom, Logic--Tom, Logic, and Jerry, Ne’er was seen, since the world first by Noah was undone, So here’s Logic’s, Jerry’s, and Tom’s Life in London!_

_Tom._ We are, indeed, a regular trio; every part well harmonised.

_Log._ Ay, all sharps! not a flat or a natural among us.

_Jerry._ I don’t think we were so very sharp last night, though, when we suffered ourselves to be made such apes of in Noah’s Ark.

_Tom._ You are right, Jerry, we are all at fault here; instead of clasping in my arms my pretty timber merchant--judge my horror, when on approaching a parish lamp, I found myself hugging that duchess of the dust-hole--Dingy Bet.

_Log._ I was served quite as badly--instead of my seraphic street solicitor, I found myself carrying on the war with Soldier Suke.

_Tom._ Worse and worse, who did you make yourself agreeable to, eh, Jerry?

_Jerry._ I beg you won’t mention it!

_Tom._ Let’s think no more on’t; the tables were fairly turned upon us, and we mustn’t grumble--we have now stepp’d into Jackson’s rooms to decide the bet with Logic as to our weight; and as he has won it, let’s be going--but stop, before we go, what say you to a bout with the foils?

_Jerry._ No go, Tom,--I’m fly--it’s a bad spec; I am not going to expose my ignorance of fencing here--but as far as a bout at single-sticks goes--why I have no objection.

_Tom._ Bob will accommodate; won’t you, Bob? come, Doctor, you must have a turn--one small taste.

_Log._ No go! no, no, Mr. Somerset, you’re a downy one at that sport--it won’t fit.

_Tom._ Positively you shall, Bob--come the least taste.

_Log._ Well, well! I won’t baulk your fancy, as you seem bent upon sport--but mind, only one bout.

_Jerry._ No; one will be sufficient. (_They place themselves in position_).

_Tom._ Holloa, Jerry, don’t swallow him.

_Log._ Use me gently, I’m but a green at this.

_Tom._ Now, then, come up to the scratch. (_They play; Jerry makes a hit; Logic parries_).

_Tom._ Well stopp’d--uncommon well, Bob.

_Log._ Do you think so; but, I say, none of your chaffing.

_Tom._ Now, really--

_Jerry._ Yes, yes, he’s up.

_Log._ Hum, I don’t think it was so much amiss myself.

_Jerry._ Now, Doctor, take care of your bread-basket--eyes right, look to your napper.

_Tom._ Ay, ay, be leary, Bob, take care of your ribs--mind your pipkin--be down on your pimple. (_They play a second bout; Jerry breaks Logic’s head_).

_Tom._ I say, Bob, did you hear anything knock?

_Log._ Yes; and nobody at home.

_Jerry._ Doctor! I touch’d your knowledge box there, I think.

_Log._ Touch’d it, zounds! you’ve broken it, Jerry, but it must have been cracked before, or I should never have entered the lists with you. Brown-paper and vinegar for one.

[_Exit._

SCENE IN A GIN SHOP.

Here some are tumbling and jumping in, And some are staggering out; One’s pawn’d her smock for a quarten of gin, Another, her husband’s coat.

Behold, Mr. Tom and Jerry, Have got an old woman in tow, They sluic’d her with gin, ’till she reel’d on her pins, And was haul’d off to quod for a row.

SCENE.--INTERIOR OF A LONDON GIN SHOP.

TOM _and_ JERRY _taking_ BLUE RUIN, _after the_ SPELL _is broken up_.

TOM is _sluicing_ the _ivories_ of some of the unfortunate heroines with blue ruin, whom the breaking up of the SPELL _has turned-up_ without any luck, in order to send them to their _pannies_ full of _spirits_. JERRY is in _Tip Street_ on this occasion, and the _Mollishers_ are all _nutty_ upon him; putting it about, one to another, that he is a _well breeched_ SWELL. FAT BET is pretending to TOM, that she had a great objection to every sort of _ruin_, no matter how _coloured_, since she had once been _queered_ upon that suit. SWIPY BILL, _a translator of Soles_, who has been out for a day’s _fuddle_, for fear his money should become too troublesome to him, has just called in at the _Gin Spinner’s_ to get rid of his last _duce_, by way of a finish, and to have another drop of _blue ruin_. This last glass would have _floored_ him, had it not been for the large butt of liquor which he staggered against. Hiccoughing, he swears “he’ll stand by OLD TOM while he has a _sole_ left to support such a good fellow.”

GIN, GIN, SWEET, SWEET GIN!

AIR.--_Home, Sweet Home._

Walk through London town, in Alley, Lane or Street, Eight to ten of all the folks you overtake or meet, List to what they talk about, you’ll find amid the din, The end of every conversation is a drop of Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There’s no drops like Gin.

When the world was young, as we read in classic page, The shepherds drank the purling stream, and pass’d the golden age; For purling streams or golden age folks now don’t care a pin, So that they can raise the brass to keep this age of Gin. Gin, Gin, Hodge’s Gin, &c.

When the weather’s cold and bleak--in rain and frost and snow, The Gin, the Gin they fly to, to warm them with its glow. In summer time, to cool their heat, we see them all flock in And joy or sorrow, heat or cold, all seek relief in Gin. Gin, Gin, Seager and Evans’s Gin, &c.

BATTLE OF--_A GIN COURT!_

Sir Richard Burnie sad, declares that never in his time, Was seen so much depravity, want, misery and crime; And all the brawls--the roitings--the day and nightly din, Are caused by what he never tasted! filthy! horrid Gin! Gin, Gin, Booth’s Cordial Gin, &c.

In India, when a Husband dies--the Widow ne’er can smile, She’s burnt alive, a sacrifice, upon her husband’s pile; In London many Wives and Widows deem it not a sin, To sacrifice and burn themselves alive with fire of Gin. Gin, Gin, Sir Robert Burnett’s Gin, &c.

Decrepit age with furrow’d face, and one foot in the grave, Hobbles on his crutches, and for a drop does crave; Infants, e’er they plainly talk, perk up each little chin And cry, oh mammy, daddy, baby ’ont a d’op o’ din. Gin, Gin, Currie’s strong Gin, &c.

GIN LANE.

In former times we’d Goblins, Fairies, Witches, Ghosts and Sprites, Who ruled the people’s minds by day, and play’d sad pranks o’ nights; But now the tales of Ghosts and such the people can’t take in They won’t believe in Spirits, yet put all their faith in Gin. Gin, Gin, Gaitskell’s Cordial Gin, &c.

In the Reign of old Queen Bess good eating did prevail, Her Majesty and all the Court would breakfast on strong ale; But now through every Court, the folk the fashion to be in, Would _ail_ all day, unless ’fore breakfast they could take some Gin. Gin, Gin, renovating Gin, &c.

Old women used to cheer their hearts and found it did agree, By sometimes taking with a friend a cup _too_ much of tea; But now they’re much more _spirited_--for tea don’t care a pin, And only use their tea pots for a cup _too much_ of Gin. Gin, Gin, tongue-relaxing Gin, &c.

GIN AND BITTERS.

Fighters take a “_a shove in the mouth_,” though it is their bane, Jack Ketch often has a “_drop_”--Scavengers a “_drain_”; Pris’ners “_half a yard of tape_” to get in merry pin And Actors oft get “_mellow_” with a “_mellow dram_” of Gin. Gin, Gin, Tragic, Comic Gin, &c.

Thompson’s shop on Holborn Hill is crowded like a fair, All the taps continually running out are there; Swing swang go the doors, while some pop out and some pop in, Foreigners must surely think that John Bull lives on Gin. Gin, Gin, dear seductive gin, &c.

This World was once deluged by water, drowning Son & Sire, But when it is destroy’d again, we read ’twill be by fire; And this must be the awful time, so prevalent is sin, As all the wicked world do burn their insides out with Gin. Gin, Gin, life-inspiring Gin, &c.

TOM AND JERRY CATCHING KATE AND SUE ON THE SLY HAVING THEIR FORTUNES TOLD.

Here lives a Fortune-Telling Gipsy, Wrinkled, crabbed, grim and old: And Tom and Jerry’s fancy ladies Are gone to get their Fortunes told.

They slily view’d them, and pursued them, For to have some glorious fun. Behind the curtain, see them sporting, This is life in London Town.

SCENE.--_Interior of Fortune Teller’s Garret._

_Enter_ JANE, KATE, SUE, TRIFLE, GREEN, _and_ LANDLORD.

GLEE.--_Omnes._

AIR.--“_Who has seen the Miller’s Wife._”

_Jane, Kate, Sue, Trifle, and Green. Have you the Fortune Teller seen? I, I for hours have waiting been; A shilling o’er her palm I’ll pass If she’ll but look in Fortune’s glass. Have you, &c._

_Land._ Oh, here she comes at last.

_Enter_ FORTUNE TELLER.

_Land._ Now mother, stir your stumps; here are two ladies waiting for you, and half a score more below.

_F. Teller._ Aye, aye! I turn hundreds away.

_Green._ Vhat an orrid hooman!

_F. Teller._ You must leave the room, gentlemen, (_To Green and Trifle_), my charms never hold good in the presence of a third person.

_Sue._ You hear, Mr. Green, her charms never hold good in the presence of a third person.

_Green._ I should vondor if they did--Her charms! Lord--I can take an int; I’m to go--wery vell, I shall absconce--Vat an ugly old vitch!

_Trifle._ (_To Girls_). We shall meet again at Logic’s, so I’ll leave you with the particularly frightful old hag, _pan ha_nour--demme!

[_Exeunt Green, Trifle, and Landlord._

_F. Teller._ (_Sitting at Table_). Now then, young women. I’ll tell you--I’ll tell you--but you must let me shuffle the cards first! (_Produces cards_) For its all done by shuffling! now then, cut them, Miss. (_Sue cuts cards_).

_Kate._ Let us sit down while we stay--rather short of furniture; but never mind, we must make shift.

(_Turns down chair lengthways to sit; she sits on one side, Sue on the other--Sue is nearly let down by Kate suddenly rising_).

_F. Teller._ (_Looking over cards_). Hey day! what have we here? You’ll be married soon.

_Sue._ I hope so, with all my heart!

_F. Teller._ There’s a fair man been paying some attention to you, lately--Hum! a cradle--three!--nine!--fourteen!--have a large family.

_Sue._ Fourteen! mercy on me!

_Kate._ Enough to make one faint!

_F. Teller._ There’s nothing more that I see at present.

_Sue._ Nor there hadn’t need been; if I’m to have fourteen children, I think I’ve heard quite enough.

_F. Teller._ (_To Kate_). Now, Miss, I’ll tell you your fortune; how many husbands, and how many children, and all about it--all about it.

_Kate._ But I don’t want to hear “all about it.” (_Imitating her_). I only want a peep into your magic mirror, and see who I’m to marry.

_F. Teller._ You should have told me that before, I always charge more for that, but I suppose I must throw it you in! Now, then, stand there; and be very still!----

(_Music.--Fortune teller places Kate and Sue in position at off end of the stage--then advances to cabinet--waves her crutch; pulls curtain aside, and discovers a large glass--Landlord passes rapidly behind_).

There! I told you I’d show him to you!

_Kate._ Wonderful! why that’s the man that opened the door to us! (_Aside to Sue_).

_F. Teller._ Now, Miss, I’ll show you your sweetheart!

(_Music and ceremony as before:--Landlord repasses contrary way_).

_Kate._ Ha, ha, ha! that’s the same man again! We’re both to marry the same husband!

_Sue._ Amazingly agreeable!

_Kate._ The old impostor!--Well, now you’ve told us our fortune; can’t you tell your own? (_To Fortune Teller_).

_F. Teller._ No, no--I have no power over my own stars.

_Kate._ Then I’ll tell it for you--In half an hour, unless you make good use of your time, you’ll have a visit from Union Hall.

_F. Teller._ O, dear me! It’s lucky I’ve a handy cockloft, and a safe way over the houses--I’ll be off directly, I’ll be off directly! (_Throws down crutch, cloak, &c., and exits hastily_).

_Kate._ “I’ll be off directly, off directly.” (_Imitating Fortune Teller_). Ha, ha, ha!--She left all her things behind her!--We can now set up in business for ourselves.

_Enter_ JANE _hastily_, L.

_Jane._ Oh, my dear girls, as I was keeping watch below, I saw Tom and Jerry coming down the street, and making for this very house--depend on’t they have traced you here.

_Kate._ What’s to be done?--Tom and Jerry!

_Sue._ Jerry and Tom coming here! (_Running about in confusion.--Knocking at door_).

_Jane._ Don’t keep running about there, as if you were out of your senses, but listen to me--get behind that glass and leave me to manage; I’ll play the Fortune Teller, now!--Help me on with the things--there! there! that will do; now then, away with you!

(_They hide behind Cabinet, after disguising Jane_).

_Tom._ (_As entering_). Come, Jerry, here they--Eh!--not here!--well, we won’t have our walk for nothing--Let’s quiz the old one a bit. I say, Mother Mummery, can you tell our fortunes for us?

_Jane._ (_As old woman_). Oh, yes; but you must cross my hand first.

_Tom._ She wants the tippery--there--(_Gives money_). There, that’s the figure, Jerry.

_Jane._ (_Looks at Jerry_). Now, Sir!

_Jerry._ Oh! must I fork out, too. (_Gives money_)

_Jane._ (_Looking at their palms_). Dear me!--dear me!

_Tom._ You said that before, you know.

_Jane._ You’ve been sad rakes--sad rakes indeed!

_Tom._ (_Imitating her_). Have we, indeed?

_Jerry._ Why, you witch of Endor!

_Tom._ What! can the devil speak?--but come, I’ll find you out at once. I conjure you by that which you profess, how’er you come to know it. Answer me, though you untie the winds! unveil your magic mirror, and show us the images of the women we are to marry. Come up with your little machine. _Whew!_ appear--appear!--they won’t come!

_Jane._ I must have a little more money first!

_Tom._ Why, you old cormorant! more blunt, eh? there-- (_Gives money_).

_Jane._ There, then!

(_Draws Curtain; Kate and Sue appear behind it in their own dresses; Jane slips away_).

_Tom._ Well, Jerry, what do you see?

_Jerry._ (_Going up to glass_). Susan Rosebud!--astonishing.----

_Tom._ Susan Rosebud! Oh, my dear Jerry, your ogles must be queer! (_Goes up; sees Kate_). My Kate! by all that’s miraculous! Where is the juggling hag? (_Looking for Jane_). Why, she’s mizzled! Holloa, Mother Damnable! Oh, there’s some mystery in the infernal mirror, which thus I solve!

_Jerry._ What are you about, Tom?

_Tom._ I’m going to mill the glaze--I’ll----

(_Is about to break the glass, when Kate and Sue appear as the Miss Trifles_).

_Tom._ The Miss Trifles! by all that’s----

JANE, KATE, _and_ SUE _come forward_.

_Kate._ Ha, ha! fairly caught, upon my word. (_Retires up the stage, then says aside to Jane and Sue_). Now girls it is time we should bring our plans to a conclusion. Logic’s imprudent ramblings have involved him in difficulties which, unless timely met, must terminate in ruin. I have bought up most of his debts; and in the midst of the gaiety of this evening, it is my intention to have him arrested and conveyed to prison. I have sent the officer my card of invitation, that he may be sure to gain admittance. This will open the eyes of the thoughtless trio, and enable us to put the money we took in trust at the gambling-house to its proper use; so let’s away, and about it straight.

[_They run off._]

SCENE.--MR. MACE’S CRIB. “ALL MAX” IN THE EAST.[33]

“Oh! for a glass of Max.”--_Byron’s Don Juan._

_A plague on those malty cove fellows, Who’d have us in spirits relax; Drink, they say, and you’ll ne’er burn the bellows, Half-water instead of all max; A glass of good max, had they twigg’d it, Would have made them, like us, lads of wax; For Sal swigg’d, and Dick swigg’d, And Bob swigg’d, and Nick swigg’d. And I’ve swigg’d, and we’ve all of us swigg’d it, And, by Jingo, there’s nothing like max. All-Max! By Jingo, there’s nothing like max!_

Here the _tag-rag_ and _bob-tail_ squad who do not care how the _blunt_ comes or how it goes. _Togs_ or no _togs_! but nevertheless, who must live at any price, and see a “_bit of life_,” let the world jog on how it will; yet who can drop a _tear_ upon a sorrowful event--_laugh_ heartily at fun--_shake_ with cold--_perspire_ with heat--and go to _roost_ much sounder upon a dust-hill than many of the _swells_ can _snooze_ upon their feather _dabs_; likewise in comparing _notes_, feel happy in the presumption that there are hundreds worse off in society than themselves.

_Enter_ SAILORS, DUSTY BOB, AFRICAN SAL, MAHOGANY MARY, MRS. _and_ MISS LILLYWHITE, ROSIN, &c., &c., _with gin measures, drinking--Mr. Mace in attendance_.

_Bob._ Now, landlord, ’arter that ’ere drap of max, suppose ve have a drain o’ heavy vet, just by vay of cooling our chaffers--mine’s as dry as a chip--and, I say, do you hear, let’s have a twopenny burster, half a quarten of bees’ vax, a ha’p’orth o’ ingens, and a dollop o’ salt along vith it, vill you?

_Mace._ Here, Waiter! a burster and bees’vax--ingens and salt here. (_Calling as he fetches the porter from the side wing_). Now, then, here you are, Muster Grimmuzzle. (_Holding out his right hand for the money, and keeping the porter away with the other_).

_Bob._ That’s your sort; give us hold on it. (_Takes Mace’s empty hand_). Vy, vhere?

_Mace._ (_Keeping the porter back_). Vy, here.

_Bob._ Oh, you are afeard of the blunt, are you?

_Mace._ No, it ain’t that; only I’m no schollard--so I always takes the blunt with von hand, and gives the pot vith t’other. It saves chalk and prewents mistakes, you know.

_Bob._ Now then for the stumpy. (_Searching about in his pockets for the money_). My tanners are like young colts; I’m obliged to hunt ’em into a corner, afore I can get hold on ’em--there! hand us over three browns out o’ that ’ere tizzy; and tip us the heavy. (_Landlord receives money and delivers porter_). Vy don’t you fill the pot? Likes to have a head on the pot.

_Mace._ How can you have a head on the pot, vhen the chill’s off?

_Bob._ Vell, then let me have the next vith the chill on, vill you? (_Bob drinks_).

_Sal._ You leave some for me, Massa Bob. (_Drinks and empties the pot_).

_Bob._ Vy, Sarah, you seems fond on it--likes to see the end, eh?

(_Bob sits down on one stool and pulls another to the front of him on which he arranges the bread, cheese, onions, &c., then tearing open the loaf discovers a live mouse which he holds up by the tail, and walking up to Mr. Mace, says_:--

I say guv’nor I didn’t axe ye for a hanimated sandvitch did I?

_Mace._ Oh! you is allus so werry partic’lar some times you is. But I say ladies and gemmen, I hopes for the harmony of the evening, you’ll not be back’ards in handing out your mags and duces to the teazer of the catgut here.

_Bob._ Aye, aye!--lend us a tanner on the bell, vill you?

_Mace._ Lend you a tanner on the bell?--It’s vhat I don’t like, Muster Bob; highly improper--you know I’ve a wery great objection to anything of the kind; however, for vonce, I suppose I must; though it ’aint right--but talking o’ that, I begs leave to hint, that I trusts heavy vet von’t be the order of the evening!:--

_Tom._ (_Without_).--No, no, damn up stairs, we’ll go in here.

_Mace._ Zounds, I hope no traps isn’t abroad, and that there ’aint any beaksmen out on the nose!

_Sal._ (_Looking out_). Law, lovee, no, it’s only some gemmen out on the spree--I dare say dat dey’ll stand a drop o’ summat all round.

_Enter_ TOM, JERRY, _and_ LOGIC.

_Tom._ Now, my dear Jerry, here we are amongst the unsophisticated sons and daughters of nature, at All Max in the East. Let the West boast of their highfliers as they will, you’ll find there are still some choice creatures of Society left here.

_Log._ What, my lily! here take a drop of mother’s milk. (_Gives black child gin out of a measure he has received from Landlord_). Landlord, let every one have a glass of what they like best, at our cost.

_Mace._ Regular trumps! I can charge vhat I likes here. (_Aside_). Now, Muster Bob, vhat’ll you take?

_Bob._ Oh, ax my Sal.

_Mace._ Now, Marm Sal, give it a name!

_Sal._ Vy, bring me de kwarten of de Fuller’s earth.

_Tom._ Come, it shall be a night of revelry, my pippins--Song--Dance--everything in the world!

_Mace._ Aye! a jig, a jig!--Remove the stand-stills--sit down, gemmen. Ve shall be as merry as mudlarks, and as gay as sand-boys soon--It’s a poor heart vhat never rejoices. Come, Muster Grimmuzzle, vhat say you to a minnyvit vith your ould lady in mourning, here.

_Bob._ Vith all my heart; I am never backward at any thing of that ’ere sort; am I Sal?

_Sal._ Dat you not, Massa Bob.--Massa Fiddler, you ought to be shame; your fiddle drunk, and no play at all.

_Log._ I’ll gin him a little, my Snow-ball; then he’ll rasp away like a young one; won’t you, my old one? (_Gives Fiddler gin and snuff_).

_Bob._ ‘Snowball,’--come, let’s have none o’your sinnywations, Mister Barnacles; she’s none the vurser, though she is a little blackish or so!

_Log._ Here, Landlord, more Blue Ruin, my boy!

_Tom._ Ceremonies are not in use here, so there’s no occasion for the master of them, Come, start off, my rum ones! the double shuffle.

_Jerry._ Aye, aye! come it strong my regulars.

COMIC PAS DEUX--DUSTY BOB _and_ BLACK SAL.

_Accompanied by Rosin, on his cracked Cremona, and Jerry on a pair of Tongs, to the Air--“Jack’s alive.” In the course of the Pas Deux, Sal, by way of a variation, and in the fulness of her spirits, keeps twirling about: at the same time going round the Stage--Bob runs after her, with his hat in his hand, crying “Sarah! vy, Sarah, ’aint you well?” &c.--The black child seeing this, and thinking there is something the matter with its mother, also squalls violently; stretching its arms towards her: at length, Sal, becoming tired of her vagaries, sets to Bob, who exclaims, “Oh! it’s all right!” and the dance concludes._

_Jerry._ That would do honour to any crib; there’s nothing like pairing off according to fancy. You’re quite fly to the trotter shaking department, I see, my rum one!

_Tom._ To be sure he is a regular gravel digger; come, Sal, my lily. (_Gives Sal gin_).

_Bob._ Vy, Sarah, vere’s your manners; vy don’t you kurchy to the gemman?

_Sal._ Me do dat de second time. (_Receives another glass_). Your good helts, gemmen all. (_Drinks_).

_Tom._ Here, Dusty, my prince, now then, sluice your bolt. (_Gives Bob gin_).

_Bob._ Vell, your honours, here’s your luck. (_Bolts gin_). That’s a regular kwortern, I knows by my mouth.

_Tom._ There’s a swallow, Jerry, this fellow is a perfect mop.

_Jerry._ Now, Doctor, we must think of starting--Eh!--zounds! what’s the matter with you? (_To Logic_).

_Log._ I’ve left off drinking in a great measure.

(_Merry and singing_). “_There’s a difference between_,” _&c., &c._

_Jerry._ Tom, see how snugly Captain Lushington’s getting abroad of Logic. Come, my boy.

_Tom._ Remember your appointment with the ladies.

_Log._ I do like this fiddle, I will have this fiddle. (_Pulling Fiddler along_).

_Tom._ Eh, zounds, Doctor, you’re going to smug the fiddler, and prig the pewter. (_Taking gin measure away from him_). Now then, what’s to pay, landlord?

_Mace._ All out, vill be fourteen bob and a kick, your honour.

_Tom._ Well, there’s a flimsy for you; serve the change out in max to the coves and covesses. (_Gives money_).

_Mace._ Thank your honour--and good luck to you.

_Tom._ Now then, Doctor, this way, my boy; come, come along.

_Log._ (_Singing_). “_A Queen she cannot swagger._” I will have this fiddle--“_nor get drunk like a beggar_.”--More max here--“_Nor be half so merry as I_.”

[_Logic becoming obstreperous, they partly force him off, and exeunt with him._]

_Mace._ Regular out-and-outers those ’ere! quite gemmen--I’ve stuck it into ’em a bit! (_Aside_).

_Bob._ Aye, ay, ve knows it! vith the chill off!--you’re an out-and-out _Stringer_, you are!

_Mace._ So I don’t mind standing a trifle of summat all round, just by way of drinking their healths; and vhen ve’ve had the liquor, ve’ll kick up a reel, and all go to our dabs.

_Bob._ Ay ay! but before that, mind you get us a bit of grub for me and my Sal--about a pound and a half of rump steak--

_Sal._ No, two pound Massa Bob, for her rather peckish.

_Bob._ Very vell, two pound, vith a pickled cowcumber, and a pen’orth o’ ketchup, to make some gravy of; and stick it up to the bell!--d’ye hear?

_Mace._ You’ll melt that ’ere bell if you don’t mind, Muster Bob; this is vhat I don’t like--vhy don’t you always take care and bring plenty of money in your pockets?--You know I’m wery particular in things of this here kind!--though I don’t mind obliging _you_----

_Bob._ Ay, ay, vith the chill off, I knows!--but it’s all right--must have the bell in the morning, you know, even if I spout the togs for it.

_Mace._ Now then, strike up, my beauty!

_Bob._ Aye, aye, pull it out, my pink!

[_Comic Characteristic Reel by all the Characters; who, under the influence of All Max, at last reel off._]

POOR LOGIC IN THE FLEET PRISON.

All in the Fleet poor Logic’s moor’d His swaggering’s now at an end! And Tom and Jerry are gone on board, Their friendly assistance to lend.

Now, all their sprees and gambols are closed For Logic has vow’d and swore When he’s from Limbo safe loosed, He’ll marry----and rake no more.

SCENE.--_Interior of Whistling Shop; Master and Mistress of Whistling Shop--Racket players--Poor Tradesman, Smuggler, and Debtors discovered._

CHORUS.--(_Omnes_).

_All in the fleet we’re safely moor’d, But while we’ve trusty pals on board, Law may to The devil go; Then, brother Debtors, sport and play._

_Let tempests whistle as they will, Our Whistling Shops will drown them still; A yard of tape Will prove the Cape. And drive each thought of care away, Tol de rol._

_Enter_ TURNKEY _and_ LOGIC.

_Turn._ Here’s Doctor Logic come to pay you a visit, gentlemen--You’ll get good accommodation here, Sir; and find some regular trumps among ’em.

_Log._ Thank’ye.----

_Turnkey._ Is that all?--Only thank’ye?

_Log._ Oh, want some tippery! (_Gives money_). There! (_Exit Turnkey_)--Brothers, your most obedient. Some of my friends, thinking my learning was not complete, have sent me to your College to finish my education; not that I owe anything!--

_Omnes._ Oh, no!--we none of us owe anything!--Oh! dear no.

_Log._ I’m only here on suspicion of debt.

_Omnes._ That’s the case with all of us!--we’re all of us only here on suspicion!

_Log._ You’ll not find me a bad chum--but ready to hunt down any game you can start. Landlady, serve them with a glass of tape, all round; and I’ll stand Sammy--

_Omnes._ A regular trump! (_Landlady serves them all with liquor, out of a bladder, as directed; Logic pays_).

_Smug._ Well, while I can blow my cloud, and get a drop on the sly, I sets the Excise at defiance. What’s a little smuggling?

_Poor T._ (_Aside_). Could I have conveyed the value of that liquor to my wife and children, it might have saved them another day from starvation!

_Log._ (_Overhearing_). What! hard up!--wife and children starving!--that sha’n’t be while Bob Logic has a quid left.--Here, my honest fellow, go fill their bellies and make them happy. (_Gives money_).

_Poor T._ May heaven bless you, Sir--you know not half the good you have done!

[_Exit poor T._]

_Log._ No: but I know one thing enough, and that is, the value of money--a prison is the only place to learn that in; and if ever I get out again----

_Enter_ TOM _and_ JERRY.

_Log._ Ah, Tom and Jerry! my boys! this is kind indeed!

_Tom._ Never desert an old pal in limbo, Bob; but when you get safe out of the river tick, take my advice, look _into_ not _over_ your affairs; if young men would but deign to consider this, would but, in the flowery wilds of pleasure, cast one glance at the guiding star of prudence--their pockets would be more full, and the prisons of the law more empty.

_Log._ Never doubt me, Tom--but welcome to ‘Freshwater Bay,’ to my new settlement on board the Never-Wag man of war;--homeward station--forced to be on good _terms_ with others, if I am not with myself----

_Jerry._ Still as lively as ever, eh, Doctor?

_Log._ And so will you be when the haberdasher has served you with a good yard of tape.

_Jerry._ ‘Haberdasher! Tape!’ I’m at fault again.

_Logic._ The haberdasher is the whistler, otherwise the spirit-merchant Jerry--and tape the commodity he deals in--It’s a contrabrand article here--white is Max, and red is Cognac.

_Jerry._ Then give me a yard and a half of red, if you please. (_Landlady gives Jerry liquor_).

_Enter_ TURNKEY, _with a letter_.

_Turn._ Here’s a stiffener for you, Doctor!----

_Log._ A letter for me!----

_Turn._ It ’aint paid for.

_Log._ More tip, eh! (_Pays him_). This fellow’s a regular leech! you never use any chalk here?

_Turn._ Can’t afford it; besides it ain’t in our way, and then it makes such a mess over the walls.

_Log._ (_Opening the letter_). Aye, aye, that will do, go along--(_Exit Turnkey_) What’s this?--Five hundred pounds!--(_Takes out note_).--Wheugh!--Let me read--“Sir Jeremy Brag and the Captain, present compliments to Doctor Logic, request his acceptance of the enclosed, to free him from his present difficulties; it is the same sum his friends threw away on an _odd_ trick the other evening.--If Mr. Logic and his friends will look in at the Venetian Carnival, this evening, they will be joined by the Captain, Sir Jeremy, the Miss Trifles, and the Mendicants from the Holy Land; when, if properly solicited, the Masqueraders may unmask.” Prodigious!--_I’m_ at fault here. I’ll away at once; drop the debt and costs in the hatchway, and be off to the Carnival.

_Tom._ We’ll go with you, Doctor.

[_Exeunt Tom, Jerry, and Logic._

_Smug._ Why, they’ve hoisted sails, lads--well, success to them--oh the changes of life!

CHORUS.--(_Omnes_).

AIR.--“_Here we go up, up, up._”

_Some there are up, up, up, And some there are down, down, down, But whether above or below, Let us always take care of the crown._

_They that are out may grin, While those that are in may fret, Yet poverty ne’er was a sin, And we’re sure they can’t hang us for debt. Fol, lol._

[_Exeunt._

SCENE.--_Leicester Square.--Characters dressed in Masquerade, cross the stage, as if going to the Carnival--Dominoes lead the way._

_Enter_ OLD MAID _and_ POODLE _followed by_ CLOWN--CLOWN _steals_ POODLE, _and pops his own head in_ POODLE’S _place_--OLD MAID _enraged, pummels_ CLOWN’S _pate till she breaks her fan_--CLOWN _carries her off squalling_ R. _They are followed by grotesgue_ DWARF, _in chintz gown and cap, with big head; preceded by servants with candles, who also exit_.

_Enter_ LILLIPUTIAN HARLEQUIN, COLUMBINE, _and_ CLOWN; L. _Characteristic_ PAS _de_ TRIOS, _to the_ “NATIONAL WALTZ;” _little_ COLUMBINE _coquetting between_ HARLEQUIN _and_ CLOWN--_after they are off._ O. P. _various_ MASKS _enter severally--business ad libitum_.

SCENE.--_Venetian Carnival brilliantly illuminated--various characters on--Music, Dancing, Tumbling, and masquerade business ad libitum, till enter Jerry (as Sportsman) and Sue as Domino._

_Sue._ (_Coming down_). What game would you start here, Mr. Sportsman?

_Jerry._ None, my pretty Domino--I only hunt in Somersetshire; that’s my manor.

_Sue._ Manners makes the man, certainly; but you’re making game of me.

_Jerry._ I speak truth, by heaven!--Oh, Susan, lovely Susan, never can I forget thee, dear.

_Sue._ Indeed! then Susan takes you at your word. (_Unmasks_).

_Jerry._ Susan Rosebud!--Astonishment! then the Captain--Miss Trifle, and the pretty ballad singer!----

_Susan._ Were one and the same person, your humble servant!--I followed to preserve and reclaim you; I have done so, and I am happy--but your cousin comes, stand aside.

[_They retire._

_Enter_ TOM, _as Don Giovanni, with_ KATE _as Domino_.

_Tom._ (_Advancing with Kate_). Could I find one of your sex that would be faithful, I would never rove again.

_Kate._ Are you sincere?--

_Tom._ By heaven!--I am!

_Kate._ Then behold the reward of your sincerity, the constancy of your faithful Kate. (_Unmasks_).

_Tom._ Kate! oh, my dear Kate!

_Enter_ LOGIC, _as Doctor Pangloss, with_ JANE _in Domino_.

_Log._ (_Advancing with Jane_). I am an L.L.D. and A.S.S.

_Jane._ (_Unmasks_). You are indeed an A-S-S, not to have found me out before.

_Log._ What! my Jenny!----

_Jerry._ Don’t be astonished, Bob--I’ll explain all:--Tom and I are going to make two matches; you must make the third--form a bunch of matches--exchange one imprisonment for another, her arms, you dog!--’aint you up?--

_Log._ I’m fly--Oxford has no fellowship like this! (_Embracing Jane_).

_Tom._ (_Coming down with Kate_). You are right, Bob, it has not.--Well, we have been amused by Life in London, now let us endeavour to profit by it;--let our experience teach us to avoid its quicksands, and make the most of its sunshine;--and in that anticipation let us hope our kind friends will pardon Tom, Jerry, and Logic all their sprees and rambles.

JERRY GOING BACK TO THE COUNTRY.

Three merry boys were Logic, Tom and Jerry, And many funny larks they have seen; Farewell, gay London, the country calls me home again, The coach moves on--the play is done--Goodbye, Goodbye.

THE WHITE HORSE CELLAR, PICCADILLY:--

Was now the parting scene, and the hand of the clock pointed very near to the time for the departure of the coach. The bustle of this place prevented the Trio from much conversation; but the _separation_ of such _staunch pals_ was a trying moment to the feelings of poor JERRY: and though he was above _blubbering_ like a _Johnny Raw_, yet his HEART was rather _touched_, and his _ogles_ underwent some _queer_ sensations, which he endeavoured to suppress, when _Coachy_ asked “if all was right” and began to smack his whip.

The hearty grasps of the hand, and the _good-byes_ were over between HAWTHORN and his _pals_, and TOM and LOGIC were only waiting to see the coach start, when JERRY, with much eagerness of expression, as if he had forgotten to mention the circumstance previously, said, “my dear Coz”--but the coach was now fast rattling over the stones, and the last broken sentence which the ear of the CORINTHIAN caught was, “Mention me in the kindest manner to the lovely SUE; tell her I am only gone into _training_, and in the course of a few weeks I shall most certainly return to London to enjoy a few more _sprees_ (which I have so unexpectedly been deprived of), and also to have with her the pleasure of another game at romps.”

THE END.

The Adelphi version of Tom and Jerry, or Life in London, was performed ninety-three nights in succession; and its _golden_ career only stopped by the termination of the season. At the end of which, _Little_ Bob Keeley, who had made a _great_ hit as Jemmy Green--a character imported into the piece by Mr. W. T. Moncrieff--went with Walbourn, the great Dusty Bob, and Cooper, who played to the life, Little Jemmy, the cripple, to Sadler’s Wells Theatre, were Pierce Egan’s own version was produced April 8th, 1822. Keeley was threatened by the Adelphi lessees--Messrs. Rodwell and Jones--with an action for breach of engagement, but the action was never brought. In the season of 1822-3 at the Adelphi, John Reeve--‘_Glorious John!_’ became Jerry Hawthorn, Mr. Brown took the part of Jemmy Green, and several other changes in the original cast were effected. At Christmas, 1822, TOM and JERRY was compressed so as to admit of the production of a pantomime called _Beauty and the Beast_, or, _Harlequin and the Magic Rose_. When the managers announced that:--

“In consequence of the astonishing Overflows to witness the admired Extravaganza of TOM and JERRY, or Life in London, and to prevent, as far as possible, any unpleasant Disappointment, the Public are respectfully informed that:--

NO PLACES, IN FUTURE CAN BE KEPT, UNLESS PAID FOR WHEN TAKEN.

Shouts of Laughter and Applause attend each Representation of the New Pantomime.”

When the long run of TOM and JERRY ended at the Adelphi, a spectacular extravaganza of the same kind was produced with the title of “GREEN IN FRANCE,” but it did not catch the fancy of the town like its predecessors.[34]

In 1825, Mr. Moncrieff published his dramatic version of Tom and Jerry; or, Life in London--which he dedicated to:--

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, FREDERICK DUKE OF YORK,

MAY IT PLEASE YOUR HIGHNESS:--

The distinguished honour conferred by your Royal Highness on this Drama, in commanding and witnessing its performance at the ADELPHI THEATRE, (an honour unprecedented in the annals of the Minor Stage) and the flattering manner in which your Royal Highness was afterwards graciously pleased to express your high approbation of it, emboldens me, with the most profound respect, to lay it at your Royal Highness’s feet, and under the sanction of your illustrious name, commit it in its present form to the world.

Having no higher pretensions than that of presenting a faithful picture of the various scenes it pourtrays, the favourable opinion of your Royal Highness stamps it with an authority that was alone wanted to crown the success with which it has been received by the Public.

Like the illustrious Haroun al Raschid, your Royal Highness is said to have made yourself acquainted with the many coloured changes of life; presented in the people over whom you may be one day called to preside, by wisely throwing off the restraint of rank, and witnessing nature in its genuine state. That the scenes I have pourtrayed are not caricatured for the sake of dramatic effect, but are actually those which might have been seen by any one choosing to seek them, your Royal Highness can therefore adequately testify; and your Royal Highness’s imprimatur will effectually ward off all the imputations that have been cast upon my motives and veracity, by the bigoted and envious.

I have the honour to be, With the most profound respect and devotion, Your ROYAL HIGHNESS’S Most obedient and very humble Servant, W. T. MONCRIEFF.

104, Drury Lane, Dec. 15, 1825.

Mr. Moncrieff in his Dedication--TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS: and in his Preface that follows throws so much true light and shade on public opinion--_pro et con_--of the period, that we deem it not only desirable but instructive to the present generation to publish the same _in extenso_.

PREFACE.

“It is scarcely necessary to observe this Drama is founded on the “LIFE IN LONDON” of my friends PIERCE EGAN, and the inimitable CRUICKSHANK. Aided by PIERCE’S clever illustrations to the matchless series of plates to that work, I have in this piece, endeavoured to put them into dramatic motion; running a connecting story through the whole, making such modifications and amplifications, and furnishing such reflections and results, as I deemed necessary. From the popularity of the subject, the novelty and acknowledged truth of the various scenes comprised in it, and the beauty of the music I fortunately selected, this Piece obtained a popularity, and excited a sensation, totally unprecedented in Theatrical History; from the highest to the lowest, all classes were alike anxious to witness its representation; Dukes and Dustmen were equally interested in its performance, and Peers might be seen mobbing it with Apprentices to obtain admission. Seats were sold for weeks before they could be occupied, every Theatre in the United Kingdom, even in the United States, enriched its coffers by performing it; and the smallest tithe-portion of its profits, would for ever have rendered it unnecessary for its Author to have troubled the public with any further productions of his Muse. It established the fortunes of most of the Actors engaged in its representation, and gave birth to many publications and several newspapers. The success of the “BEGGAR’S OPERA,” the “CASTLE SPECTRE,” and “PIZARRO,” sunk into the shade before it. In the _furore_ of its popularity, persons have been known to travel post from the furthest parts of the Kingdom to see it; and five guineas have been offered for a single seat.--These facts are not recapitulated here from any feeling of egotism--the success of this Drama, was the temporary rage of the moment, from time-serving circumstances, and was never regarded in any other light by its Author; they are merely noticed as curious events in theatrical history.--With respect to the cry of immorality, so loudly raised by those inimical to the success and plain-speaking of this piece, it is soon answered! To say nothing of the envy of rival Theatres feeling its attraction most sensibly in their Saturday Treasuries, those notorious pests the Watchmen; dexterously joined in the war-howl of detraction raised against it, and by converting every trifling street-broil into a “_Tom and Jerry row_,” endeavoured to revenge themselves for the _exposè_ its scenes afforded of their villany and extortion; but all in vain. In vain, too, it was the Actor’s old rivals, the _Methodists_, took the alarm--in vain they distributed the whole of the stock of the _Religious Tract Society_ at the doors of the Theatre--in vain they denounced “_Tom and Jerry_” from the pulpit--in vain the puritanical portion of the Press prated of its immorality--in vain the prejudices of the stiff-backed part of the Bench--the hypocritical host of Saints cried it down, and preached woe and destruction to those who supported it.--They but increased the number of its followers, and added to its popularity. Vainly, too, was the Lord Chamberlain called upon to suppress it--His Grace came one night to see it, and brought his Duchess the next. It was nearly the same with the Chief Magistrate of Bow Street: his experience rendered him perfectly sensible, that, long before the appearance of “_Tom and Jerry_,” young men and country gentlemen would in moments of hilarity, sometimes exceed in their potations, be provoked into quarrels by designing Watchmen, and consigned, for purposes of extortion on the following morning, to His Honour, the Night Constable; but according to the Saints’ accounts, to believe their tales, it must be held as a point of faith, that no one, previous to the appearance of “_Tom and Jerry_,” ever got into a row!--Oh, no--drinking and all its train of follies were unknown to youth, until inculcated into their minds by the example of “_Tom and Jerry_!” How many an unsuspecting _Country Cousin_ has been converted, in the public newspapers, through an hour of harmless frolic, into a JERRY; while his equally unconscious Town relation figured as a TOM, and any honest plodder they may have had with them is transformed into a BOB LOGIC--his first appearance in that character. The thing speaks for itself: the hue and cry of the immorality and danger of this piece was raised merely for the purposes of plunder, by Watchmen and others. So far from being immoral, if the piece be fairly examined, it will be found to be as correct in its tendency as any production ever brought on the stage. The obnoxious scenes of life are only shown that they may be avoided: the danger of mixing in them is strikingly exemplified; and every incident tends to prove, that happiness is only to be found in the domestic circle.

“It has been said, that many of the scenes of this piece should not have been exhibited, being scenes of dissipation, riot, and impropriety--ridiculous!--Has not Shakespeare asserted that the proper use of the drama is--“to hold, as ’twere, the mirror up to nature, to show virtue her own feature, and vice her own image, and the very age and body of the time its form and pressure:” could any piece do this more effectually than “_Tom and Jerry_?” take away the scenes complained of, it ceases to show the form and pressure of the age and time.

“I should not have published this piece had not its success produced such a host of imitations and plagiarisms, that more to prevent myself suffering from the demerits of others than to avail myself of any merits of my own. I give it with all its imperfections on its head, to the world; willing to pay _smart blunt_ for my own misdeeds, but not _stand Sammy_ for those of others. To those venerable noodles who complain that I and my prototype, PIERCE, have made this the age of flash; I answer any age is better than _The age of cant_! I tell my pious lecturers, in plain terms, I shall always feel pleasure in reflecting that I have in this piece, _nosed_ every _move_ on the _board_, in the _game_ of the _spell_; opened the _ogles_ of the _green_ and the _yokel_, and the _muff_, and the _raw_; struck a light on the _darky_ of their _knowledge boxes_, _flashed_ the _gab_ of the _prig_, the _leg_, the _scamp_ and the _stringer_, in their _listeners_, put them _fly_ and _awake_ to all they should be _up_ and _down_ to, and enabled them, if their _lugs_ are at all _wing_ to the _bits_ of _good truth_, _pattered_ to them in every scene of this piece, _bank_ their _rag_, _chivey_ their _nurses_, _nash_ their _leading strings_, and keep out of the way of the _cut-along-coaches_ as they travel the high _toby_ of existence; and having so done, can lay my _mawley_ on my _core_, and conscienciously _chaunt_ my conviction, in which my _reader_ will bear me out, “that I’ve cut all the _buzmen_, and _done_ the _thing right_.”

W. T. M.

104, Drury Lane, Dec. 15, 1825.

THE DUSTMAN.

Bring out your dust the dustman cries, Whilst ringing of his bell: If the wind blows, pray guard your eyes, To keep them clear and well.

PIERCE EGAN ON MR. WALBOURN’S “DUSTY BOB.”

“It is the greatest possible praise to be praised by a man who is himself deserving of praise.”

“Approbation from Sir Hubert Stanley is praise indeed.”

Mr. Walbourn’s theatrical fame was made by, and, strange to say, expired with the character of Dusty Bob. Pierce Egan, in his “Life of an Actor,”--which he dedicated to Edmund Kean--classes his performance of this part, as giving him a title in the niche of fame beside John Kemble, Mrs. Siddons, and all the great actors contained in his “Catalogues of Parts Acted”--which can never be forgotten by those who witnessed them. Here is the note, and will be found at page twelve of the work:--“The personification of Dusty Bob, by the above actor, has been unanimously decided by the public to be one of the greatest triumphs of the histrionic art ever exhibited on any stage. The first tragedian of the day,[35] with the utmost liberality, gave it as his opinion, that, during the whole course of his theatrical life, he had never seen any performance equal to it. Also, a comic actor of the greatest celebrity[36] exclaimed, ‘Good heaven! is it possible? Do my eyes deceive me? Most certainly it is a real _dustman_ they have got upon the stage. I am very sorry the profession has descended so low as to be compelled to resort to the streets to procure a person of that description to sustain the character.’ He left the body of the theatre in utter disgust--nor was it until introduced to Mr. Walbourn in person, behind the scenes, that he would believe it was an actor. _Further praise than this is superfluous._”

Mr. Walbourn as “Dusty Bob,” was drawn and engraved by George Cruikshank, and sold, with other character-portraits, at the Adelphi Theatre. During the long run of the piece, he exchanged one species of _hops_ for another, as he gave up his business as a private and stage dancing-master, and took the “Maidenhead” public-house at Battle Bridge. The house, previous to his taking it was doing only a small trade; but, when he became the landlord, and put out a spick-span new and a “not so dusty” sign of himself as “DUSTY BOB,” painted in oil by George Cruikshank, it drew together many of the “Dusty” fraternity--and their doxies. After that, “Dusty Bob,” together with “Black Sal,” became to be bye words, as, near to the house, was Smith’s dust-yard, at which hundreds were employed, male and female. But:--

“A heap of dust alone remains of thee; ’Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!”

THE LITERARY DUSTMAN.

My dawning genus fust did peep, Near Battle Bridge ’tis plain, sirs-- You recollect the cinder heap, Vot stood in Gray’s Inn Lane, sirs?[37] ’Twas there I studied pic--turesque, Vhile I my bread vos yarning, And there, inhailing the fresh _breeze_, I sifted out my larnin’! They calls me Adam Bell, ’tis clear, (As Adam vos the furst man), And by a co--in--side--ance queer, Vy, I’m the fust of dustmen!-- A Literary Dustman!

The “Old Pub.” of sixty years ago is now THE VICTORIA TAVERN, Great Northern Railway. Maiden Lane is York Road, and Battle Bridge is known as King’s Cross, from a statue of George IV.--a most execrable performance--taken down in 1842.

Great sculptors all conwarse wi’ me, And call my taste diwine, sirs-- King George’s statty at King’s Cross Vas built from my design, sirs. The Literary Dustman.

Besides the authors already mentioned. Tom Dibden, Farrell, and Douglas Jerrold, each produced dramas upon the popular theme; and during the seasons of 1821-2, “Life in London” was performed with great _éclat_, at ten theatres in and around the metropolis, to overflowing houses. But Pierce Egan at length became tired of the successes of the playwrights in using his book, and resolved to try his own hand at a dramatic version--or, as he termed it, “to take a leaf or two out of his own book”--and the AUTHOR’S PIECE was “got up” and performed for the first time at Sadler’s Wells, under the respectable management of Mr. Egerton, on Monday, April 8, 1822, with most decided success.

It was thus announced by Mrs. Egerton, in the address written for the occasion by T. Greenwood, Esq.

“To-night, my friends, this modern taste to meet, We show you JERRY at his country seat; Then up to town transport the rustic beau, And show him ‘Life in London,’ HIGH and LOW.”

SADLER’S WELLS THEATRE.

Under the Direction of MR. EGERTON, of the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, Sole Proprietor.

The Brilliant Success, and increasing Attraction of PIERCE EGAN’S “TOM and JERRY”: not exceeded by any performance ever yet produced; and the celebrated PONY RACES, exciting an interest equal to the RACE COURSE ITSELF: being nightly performed to crowded Audiences, amidst Roars of Laughter and Shouts of applause, will be repeated EVERY EVENING, at half-past six o’clock precisely:--

The new Pedestrian, Equestrian, and Operatic Extravaganza: in Three Acts--of Gaiety, Frisk, Lark, and Patter, called

TOM AND JERRY.

_Put into Shape, exclusively for this Theatre, by_ PIERCE EGAN.

Who trusts it will not be deemed unfair that he should take a LEAF or TWO _out of his own_ BOOK, several other persons having made free with the Work. The Piece now prepared for representation is not entitled to the appellation of TRAGEDY, COMEDY, _Opera_, PLAY, _Farce_, BALLET, or _Melodrama_, yet partaking of the Qualities _of all_, and possessing scenes HIGH and LOW in abundance, from the “_Sky Parlour_” to the “_Diamond Vault_.” OUT _and_ OUT, Rambles and Sprees, East and West, and Lots of Characters, UP and DOWN. A variety of _Swells_ but no DONS: CORINTHIANS and COSTARD-MONGERS of many _Hues and Colours_: FLATS and SHARPS without a _Note_--PINKS _and_ TULIPS, but no FLOWERS, yet always in the _Hot Houses_: and HELLS _without_ DEVILS, only having _Black Legs_: MUSLIN _and_ HOPSACKS, according as the _creatures_ wear them: the whole forming a “BIT OF GOOD TRUTH,” _en passant_, in a Review of LIFE IN LONDON, developed by a precious TRIO, in the Persons of a TOP-of-THE-TREE-HERO _Up_ and _Dressed_ in all _suits_: seconded by a _slap-bang_ countryman, that neither _hedge_ nor _ditch_ baulk his pursuits; and in unison with a _prime_ piece of LOGIC without PREMISES, yet always so much at HOME, that LOCKE and BACON were muffs to him: also representing the NOBLE, RESPECTABLE, MECHANICAL, and _Tag Rag_ and _Bob-tail part of Society_, which constitute the CORINTHIAN CAPITAL, and the _Base_ of the Pillar.

The Overture, with the New and Selected Music, by Mr. Nicholson. The Scenes from Drawings taken on the spot, by Mr. Greenwood, assisted by Mr. Milldenhall and others. The Sporting Subjects, by MR. GEORGE CRUIKSHANK, from designs by himself and Brother, MR. I. R. CRUIKSHANK. The Quadrilles and Country Dances, by Mr. Kirby. The Machinery, Platforms, and Race Course, by MR. COPPING. Dresses by MR. TOWNLEY and MRS. BALDING.

Corinthian Tom Mr. Elliott. Jerry Hawthorn Mr. Keeley. Bob Logic Mr. Vale. Dusty Bob Mr. Walbourn. African Sal Mr. Brady. Little Jemmy Mr. Cooper. Billy Waters Mr. Hartland.

To Start from the Winning Post on the Stage; Run three times Round the Course.

Separate Matches, and afterwards for the GRAND SWEEPSTAKES.

PONY RACES.

Passing INTO AND ROUND THE Pit.

_Ponies._ _Colours._ 1.--The Corinthian _Pink._ 2.--Bob Logic’s Miss Sly _Stripe._ 3.--Jerry’s Never to be beat _Blue._ 4.--Dusty Bob _Black._ 5.--Touch and-Go _Blue and Pink._ 6.--The Out-and-Outer _Scarlet._

Stewards of the Race LOGIC, TOM, and JERRY. Clerk of the Course DUSTY BOB.

☞ The eagerness of several Ladies and Gentlemen to Promenade the Course during the Race, having at times produced a temporary delay and inconvenience, they are respectfully intreated to observe the directions of the Clerk of the Course, who will attend with MRS. DUSTY BOB (_African Sal_) in their _Carriage from Maiden Lane, Battle Bridge_, for the purpose of preserving order.

THE CORINTHIAN’S DIARY.

_A Celebrated Comic Song, written by_

T. GREENWOOD, ESQ.

And Sung by Mr. Vale, at Sadler’s Wells Theatre, in the Character of BOB LOGIC.

SUNDAY, got _floor’d_, in _groggy_ plight, MONDAY, quite stale, took anti-bilious, Pester’d by nausea, nerves not quite right, And noisy _duns_ quite supercilious: A dish of Mocha, ’chovy toast, Remov’d the spasms--increased attrition, So started, when I’d skimm’d the _Post_, To TATTERSALL’S, in high condition.

TUESDAY, got clean’d at _Rouge et Noir_, And, done quite brown, was forc’d to toddle; So then I vow’d to play no more, Lest, like a lame duck, I should waddle.

WEDNESDAY, reflected; curs’d each star, Swore never more a card to handle: Went to the FIVES COURT, saw them spar, And patronis’d CRIBB, NEAT, and RANDALL.

THURSDAY, _bowl’d_ down to ASCOT HEATH, To sport my _blunt_ upon the races: Rode my own mare almost to death, For I had won three steeplechases: Clean’d out again, I came away Quite undismay’d, though out of feather, At night I bolted to the play, To drown ill-luck and care together.

Met with a _spree_, two glorious frays, So went to work--I hate long parleys; Kick’d up a row, then _starr’d_ the _glaze_, And _mill’d_, in style, a brace of _Charley’s_: _Morris’d_ away to ALMACK’S ROOMS, Danc’d a quadrille, alert and showy, Call’d at the FINISH, mops and brooms, And tumbled to bed as drunk as Chloe.

FRIDAY, I went to see dear NANCY, But found a _Covey_ there before me, Was forc’d to _bolt_, I’d lost my chance, But KATE, I knew, would still adore me: So off I set, stay’d SATURDAY, My comforts took, then home departed; Book’d for next week, with spirits gay, I for a fresh game, on SUNDAY started.

SADLER’S WELLS.

PIERCE EGAN,

_The Author_ of TOM & JERRY; or, _Life in London_.

Most respectfully informs the Public, and his numerous Friends in the Sporting World, that:

(Before “all the GOLD _is taken off the_ GINGERBREAD,” being contented with a Small Slice of it,) his

BENEFIT is fixed for Wednesday _The 25th September, 1822_.

When a Variety Entertainment, will be performed, in which THE AUTHOR _Will make his First and only Appearance on this Stage, in a_ PRINCIPAL CHARACTER.

LIFE IN A SPREE.

A Spree’s the thing, with potent port made merry, “Go it BOB LOGIC,” “Keep it up,” cries JERRY.

The _Upper Story_ all abroad--Mr. Lushington at Work; and when the Wine is in, the Wit is out--Ripe for any thing--How to make a Stop--Watch go--And getting the best of the Timekeepers--Must make a noise in the World:--

No way but this left to obtain renown, _Kick up a Row_, and knock the CHARLIE’S down!

LIFE IN THE EAST.

ALL-MAX ...... _A bit of good Truth!_

Tickets not necessary--Any Port in a Storm--Never a Jack without a Jill--All happiness: no questions asked: and one half the world don’t know how the other half lives--(_or dies!_)--No matter! Plenty of _Taste_--_Patter_ without ceremony--And not particular to a _shade_ about _Lingo_. Spoting a _toe_ without a _shoe_, and no enquiry after the _Snob’s_ Bill--_Reeling_ without _steps_--_Flooring_ instead of _Waltzing_, and nothing the matter. _Country_ or _colour_ no objection--_Ladies in mourning_ not prohibited--Black Sall don’t blush for her appearance--And Dusty Bob not uneasy about his toggery--All the same ONE HUNDRED Years hence!--PHILOSOPHY.

⁂ To prevent the trouble and fatigue of ascending the numerous Steps to the Author’s SKY PARLOUR, (in Days of Yore, denominated a _Garret_, as well as Tumbling over lots of Kids,) Tickets to be had of Messrs. SHERWOOD, NEELY, and JONES, Paternoster Row; Office of the Weekly Dispatch, Wine Office Court, Fleet Street; at all the Sporting Houses; and Places for the Boxes can be taken of Mr. Parker, at the Box Offices, Sadler’s Wells, from 10 till 4.

Full Particulars will be duly Announced.

BOXES 4s. PIT 2s. GALLERY 1s.

Glendinning, Printer, 25, Hatton Garden, London.

Brighton, of course, in common with all other large provincial towns had its version of “Life in London.” The theatre was then under the management of Mr. Samuel--or, as he was commonly known, Jerry Sneak Russell, from the inimitable manner in which he personated that character in Foote’s farce of “The Mayor of Garrat.” We have a copy of the play-bill before us, and as we think the manager’s remarks and the selection of criticisms are in their way curious, we here append them, including the cast of characters:

THEATRE ROYAL, BRIGHTON. LAST NIGHT BUT ONE. TOM AND JERRY.

In announcing the successful piece of “Tom and Jerry” for this evening, the manager feels great satisfaction in being able to quote in its favour the following observations from the critiques in the London and other newspapers. “The scenery, dresses, &c., are good throughout, and much credit is due to the manager for the style in which it is got up. It is with pleasure we remark that this piece has been most judiciously freed from the impurities of dialogue, which rendered it improper to meet the delicate ear of the gentler sex. We therefore venture, without subjecting ourselves to reproach, to recommend our readers to see ‘Life in London,’ to witness an exposure of many impositions practised in real life, and be made ‘fly’ (the plain English of _au fait_) to the _multum in parvo_ phrases which are now introduced into passing conversations.”

“BRIGHTON.--The theatre at this place has just produced its ‘Tom and Jerry’ with great success, and, we may say, deservedly--every objectionable point that might be thought to infringe on decorum having been most ingeniously suppressed, without any diminution of the whim and fire of its varied and entertaining scenes. This regard to propriety argues much discretion, and seems to meet the approbation of the _beau monde_ resorting hither, for the theatre is graced with abundance of fashion and beauty.”

“The ‘Tom and Jerry’ of the Brighton Theatre has good scenery, good acting, and, what in such a piece is perhaps still better, good and chaste dialogue to recommend it; it has been cleansed of its impurities without injuring its life and spirit. As thus represented, it cannot raise a blush on the cheek of the most fastidious female.”

On Wednesday Evening, September 12, 1822, will be reproduced the highly popular and amusing Burletta of

TOM AND JERRY.

Corinthian Tom Mr. Power. Bob Logic Mr. Chapman. Jerry Hawthorn Mr. Russell. Squire Hawthorn Mr. Chambers. Tattersall Mr. Mortimer. Yorkshire Cove Mr. Hatton. Primefit Mr. Julian. Bill Chaunt Mr. Whatford. Dusty Bob Mr. Starmer. Mr. Mace (Landlord of All Max in the East) Mr. Jenkins. Billy Waters Mr. Sheen. Mr. Muff Mr. Collier. Gammoning Jack Mr. Mills. Snoozy Mr. Cole. Trifle Mr. Dale. Little Jemmy Master Williams. Chaffing Sam Mr. Wiber. Tom Belcher Mr. Jones. President of the Daffy Club Mr. Campbell.

Huntsmen, Watchmen, Villagers, Cadgers, &c., &c.

Corinthian Kate Miss M. Cooke. Hon. Mrs. Gadabout Mrs. Clarke. Patty Primrose Miss Carr. Mary Miss Cramer. Hon. Mrs. Trifle Miss Grosette. Fortune Teller Mrs. Grosette. Mrs. Allright Miss H. Grosette. African Sal Miss Black.

Country Lasses, Ladies at Almack’s in the West, &c., &c.; Prospectus of Scenery, &c., &c., as before.

To conclude with the Romantic Melo-drama of

VALENTINE AND ORSON.

Valentine Mr. Power. Orson Mr. S. Chapman.

Creasy, Printer, _Gazette Office_, Brighton.

The notoriety which Tom and Jerry obtained in England, became the topic of conversation amongst our Gallic neighbours--nay, it crept so much into favour with the gay folks of Paris, LIFE IN LONDON was speedily translated into French, under the title of “The Diorama; or, Picturesque Rambles in London--containing the most faithful _Notices of the Character, Manners, and Customs of the English Nation_, in the various classes of Society. By M. S----.” The translation had a most extensive circulation in France.

The reception of Tom and Jerry was equally flattering--notwithstanding the great prejudices that had previously existed against it--in Dublin. Mr. Wrench, from the Adelphi Theatre, was specially engaged to play the part of Corinthian Tom. The first seven nights produced £1300; and the house, on Mr. Wrench’s benefit night, held £345.

The great success of “Life in London,” in its dramatic form in the Irish capital lead up to the publication of:--

“REAL LIFE IN IRELAND; or, the Day and Night Scenes, Rovings, Rambles, and Sprees, Bulls, Blunders, Bodderation, and Blarney of Brian Born, Esq., and his elegant friend _Sir Shawn O’Dogherty_. 1829. Coloured plates.”

In which the pictorial style of the Brothers Cruikshank was imitated from an Hibernian point of view and colouring.

At both the Theatres in Edinburgh, Tom and Jerry attracted crowded audiences, according to the Editor of the _Edinburgh Dramatic Review_, who states thus:--

“At length the public of Edinburgh had opportunity of judging of the merits of the above celebrated Extravaganza. From the general tendency of the remarks which appeared in the newspapers, we were led to suppose that this piece consisted of indecency and gross vulgarity. From what we heard reported as to the numerous indelicacies which this sketch of Fun, Frolic, Fashion, and Flash contained, we were afraid that its success with our sober citizens would have been precarious; but, we are happy to say, that the applause which was bestowed on it by the unprecedentedly numerous assemblage on Saturday evening, January 25, 1823, which crowded the Caledonian Theatre, is a sufficient answer to the chimerical doubts which were industriously circulated against its propriety. There is nothing, as we before remarked, associated with disgust or offence. There is neither one word, action, or situation, in the whole course of the piece, that can possibly raise a blush, or offend the most fastidious moralist!”

The Burletta of TOM and JERRY had been repeated so often all over the kingdom, and particularly in the metropolis, that the performers, notwithstanding the great applause they nightly received in the above piece, absolutely became tired and worn-out with the repetition of their characters, when the following piece of satire, written by T. Greenwood, Esq., was published, entitled, “The Tears of Pierce Egan, Esq., for the Death of ‘Life in London’; or, The Funeral of Tom and Jerry. Dedicated to Robert and George Cruikshank, Esqs. Price Two Shillings, with an engraving by George Cruikshank.”

“Beat out of the Pit, and thrown over the Ropes, TOM and JERRY resign’d their last breath, With them, too, expired the Manager’s hopes, Who are left to deplore their sad death!

“Odd and various reports of the cause are about, But the real one was _this_ I opine: They were run to a _standstill_, and, therefore, no doubt, That the cause was a rapid _decline_.

“When death showed his _Nob_, out of _Time_ they were beat, And neither would come to the _scratch_; They hung down their heads and gave up the last heat, Not prepared with the Spectre to _match_.

“All wept at the FUNERAL! the Fancy and all-- Some new, but a great many mended: And EGAN, while CRUIKSHANK and _Bob_ held the pall, As _Chief Mourner_ in person attended!!!

“Their _Sprees_ and their _Rambles_ no more shall amuse, Farewell to all nocturnal parleys: The Town felt regret, as the bell tolled the news, And no one rejoiced--but the _Charleys_!

“A monument, too, their kind Patrons will raise, Inscribed on--‘Here lies TOM and JERRY, Who, departing the _Stage_, to their immortal praise, ONE THOUSAND NIGHTS made the _Town merry_!!!’

“May their souls rest in peace, since they’ve chosen to flit, Like other great heroes departed; May no mischief arise from their _sudden_ exit, Nor PIERCE EGAN die--_broken-hearted_!”

In reference to the above, Pierce Egan states that Jemmy Catnach, the renowned Ballad-monger of the Seven Dials, in less than twelves hours after the publication, produced a pirated edition for street sale, for two-pence.

Mr. Pierce Egan, in his “_Finish_,” states that he reckoned no less than sixty-five separate publications, which he enumerates _in extenso_, all derived from his own work, and adds, with his usual amount of large and small CAPITALS and _italics_--“We have been _pirated_, COPIED, _traduced_; but, unfortunately, not ENRICHED by our indefatigable exertions; therefore NOTORIETY must satisfy us, instead of the smiles of FORTUNE. Our efforts have given rise to numerous productions in the market of literature, yet we can assert, with a degree of confidence hitherto unshaken, that none of our _Imitators_ have dared to think for themselves during the long period of seven years, neither have they shown any originality upon the subject of ‘LIFE IN LONDON’; but who have left it--_disinterested_ souls!--to the Author and Artist to put a CLIMAX to the adventures of TOM, JERRY, and LOGIC.” The last remark is in reference to the publication of “PIERCE EGAN’S FINISH to the Adventures of TOM, JERRY, and LOGIC, in their Pursuits through LIFE IN AND OUT OF LONDON. With numerous coloured illustrations by Robert Cruikshank. London: George Virtue & Co., Ivy Lane, Paternoster Row.” Seven years after the date of “The Life in London.” In common with almost all other sequels, or “continuations” it was not successful--the fact being that Pierce Egan, and the subject of his work were alike literally and financially “used up!”

Old Jemmy Catnach, true to his line of life, soon joined what Pierce Egan designates as the “Mob of Literary Pirates” who irritate the poor author almost to madness, blast his prospects, impose on the unwary by their imitations, and render his cash account all but nugatory, and, just as he may be congratulating himself on the success of his genius, receiving the smiles of Fame, and a _trifling sweetener_ from Threadneedle Street, as a reward for his exertions, he may be attacked by _Sappers_ and _Miners_--those pickers and stealers who do not absolutely come under the denomination of _pickpockets_, yet _thieves_ to all intents and purposes, and, certainly, _robbers_ of the most unprincipled description--a set of vampires--living upon “the brains” of other persons, and who dare not to think for themselves.

Catnach brought out a broadside, or “whole-sheet,” for street-sale, entitled:--

_LIFE IN LONDON_; OR, THE SPREES OF TOM AND JERRY; ATTEMPTED IN CUTS AND VERSE.

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.

NOTICE:--This is to give Notice to those persons who are in the habit of pirating my copyrights that if they dare to print any part of this Sheet, they shall be proceeded against according to Law. JAMES CATNACH.

_EIGHTEENTH EDITION._

LONDON: Printed & Sold by Jas. Catnach, 2, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials, of whom may be had The Queen’s Life, in Cuts & Verse. PRICE TWO PENCE.

The “broadside,” which Pierce Egan calls--“Another wicked piracy, by Catnach,” consists of twelve woodcuts,--of which we have given _facsimiles_ in our pages--it will be seen that they are reduced and very roughly executed copies of the original plates by the Brothers Cruikshank, but in reverse. Therefore the swaggering NOTICE TO PIRATES which Jemmy Catnach published reads funny enough. The letter-press matter consists of flash songs, and a poetical epitome of the plot and design of the original work of “Life in London.” And taking it as it stands, and from where it emanated, rather a creditable performance, particularly when we take into consideration--as duly announced by the street-patterer, that it was--“Just printed and pub--lish--ed, all for the low charge of “Twopence.”

On the rarity of this Catnachian and piratical edition of “Life in London” it is superfluous to enlarge, and it is easy to account for this circumstance, if we reflect that the broadside form of publication is by no means calculated for preservation; hundreds of similar pieces printed at the “Catnach Press” and at other offices publishing for street-sale must have perished. The more generally acceptable a broadside or street-ballad became, and was handed about for perusal, the more it was exposed to the danger of destruction. No copy of Catnach’s version is preserved in the British Museum, therefore, and for reason above stated, it must be considered as a great “Literary Curiosity.”[38]

As we have before observed, “Life in London” was dedicated by permission to George IV., and it is a circumstance in itself which looks singular enough in this Victorian age, that royalty should have condescended to have had such a work dedicated to it. One paragraph, which we are about to quote, strikes us as being a very peculiar and free-and-easy style for an author to address himself to a King of England. It is as follows:--

“Indeed, the whole chapter of ‘Life in London’ has been so repeatedly perused by your Majesty in such a variety of shapes--from the elegant A, the refined B, the polite C, the lively D, the eloquent E, the honest F, the stately G, the peep-o’-day H, the tasteful I, the manly J, the good K, the noble L, the stylish M, the brave N, the liberal O, the proud P, the long-headed Q, the animated R, the witty S, the flash T, the knowing U, the honourable V, the consummate W, the funny X, the musical Y, and the poetical Z,--that it would only be a waste of your Majesty’s valuable time to expatiate further upon this subject.”

One notable effect of “Life in London,” particularly in its dramatised form, must be recorded. It broke the heart of poor Billy Waters, the one-legged musical negro, who died in St. Giles’s workhouse, on Friday, March 21, 1823, whispering with his ebbing breath, a mild anathema, which sounded very much like: “Cuss him, dam Tom--meē--Tom--meē Jerry!”

Poor Billy endeavoured, up to the period of his last illness, to obtain for a wife and two children what he termed, “An honest living by scraping de cat-gut!” by which he originally collected considerable sums of money at the West-end of the town, where his ribbon-decked cocked hat and feathers, with the grin on his countenance, and sudden turn and kick out of his wooden limb, and other antics and efforts to please, excited much mirth and attention, and were well rewarded from the pockets of John Bull. The burden of Billy’s ditty “from morn to dewy eve,” and from January to December, was:--

Polly will you marry me--Polly don’t you cry, Polly will you marry me--Polly don’t you cry:-- Cry--cry--cry!

Mr. W. T. Moncrieff, the dramatist, is responsible for the following biographical notice of this old London Street Character:--“Of this meritorious and lamented individual, we had with great trouble collected from various sources, an ample and interesting Biography. But unfortunately for posterity, in the same classic regions where he lost his life, _we_ also lost his life; and, to tell the truth under the influence of the same seductive fluid too--_Daffy!_--we can therefore only present our reader with a few brief notices from memory.”

BILLY WATERS, was born in the powerful African kingdom of TONGOCONGOTABOO, where he was a native Prince, and bore the name of POKIKOKIQUANKO; from this place he was at an early age, to the universal regret of his loving subjects, kidnapped, by ‘an auld Quaker,’ who bought him from his treacherous attendants, for two axes, a frying-pan and a bag of nails. This _black_ piece of business made him a slave, in the French settlement, at Demarara, from whence however he speedly took _French leave_, and entered, we believe, the British navy as a cook _par excellence_ on board the Ganymede sloop of war, under the command of Sir John Purvis, where, during a fierce engagement, he lost a leg, some say gallantly fighting the enemies of old England, though others insinuate it was through falling down the cockpit ladder, in his great hurry to hide himself. His own version was that he fell from the top-sail yard to the quarter deck during a storm, we cannot pretend to decide which was the fact, it however occasioned his being sent to England, as unfit for service. Arriving in London, he betook himself to that wild mode of life, which best suited his origin; the trammels of civilized society, had no charm for him; he scorned the mechanical rules of man, and picked up his living wherever he could find it. Born a Prince, and bearing a native princeliness in his appearance it is not to be wondered at that his associates should speedly elect him to the regal dignity of their tribe.

In the year 1812 Billy was solemnly inauguared _ex cathedra_ into the sovereignty of mendicityship--King of the Beggars--at the cellar of St. Patrick in St Giles’, a rank he supported with great satisfaction and majesty, till the luckless period when a rival _Billy_ (BODKIN), by being placed at the head of the mendicity society, virtually became King of the Beggars in his own right. This--as he conceived it, cruel usurpation by Bodkin, pricked Billy just a leetle too hard. From that moment he drooped as a blighted _lily_, and like another black hero he exclaimed--‘Othello’s occupation’s gone.’ The fickle British public refused to be as liberal as they had been, which he attributed to the production of “_Tom and Jerry_” with whom he was made to partake of:--

“Shoulder of veal and garnish--Turkey and appendages--Parmesan and Filberts--Port and Madeira.” Billy on hearing the above list given out as forming the “peck and booze for the evening,” exclaimed “Dat dam goot, me like a de Madery--Landlord, here, you give this bag of broken wittals, vot I had give to me to day, to some genteel dog vot pass your door: and you make haste wid de supper, you curse devil you.”

_Enter_ LANDLORD _with Supper_.

_Landlord._ Now, your honours, here’s the rum peck, here’s the supper.

_Billy._ Eh, de supper! de supper! come along. (_After striking_ CREEPING JACK _on the fingers with a knife_) you damn nasty dog! what for you put yur dirty fingers in de gravy? you call dat gentlemans? you want your fingers in de pie, now you got him dere!

_Jack._ I only wish’d to taste the stuffining.

_Billy._ And now you taste de carver knife instead! (_Takes candle, and looks at supper_). Vy, what him call dis?

_Landlord._ Why the turkey and the pie, to be sure.

_Billy._ De turkey and de pie! I tink you said de turkey and de pie,----what! de turkey widout de sassinger! him shock----him wouldn’t give pin for turkey widout dem----me like a de Alderman in chain.

_Landlord._ I’m very sorry, Mr. Waters, but----

_Billy._ You sorry!----I sorry for my supper, you damn dog, you serve up de turkey without de sassinger--no lemon to de weal--no hoyster saase to de rum’-steaks, who you tink eat rum’-steaks widout de hoyster saase? You send no filberts to de Port, nor debils to de Madery nather. Mee must use some other hot-hell--you dog.

However, by a combination of events, Billy became very poor, and was obliged, prior to his going into the workhouse, to part with his old friend, the fiddle.--“Him lend him ole fiddle to him uncle at de pop shop,” and the wooden _pin_ (leg) which had so often supported Billy, would have shared the same fate, but its extensive service had rendered it worthless though it had twice saved poor Billy from the penalties of the _Treadmill_. At length, in the full belief that his spirit was about to flee to meet his coloured ancestors in the realms of bliss and a free hunting ground, he duly made his will, in which he bequeathed to W. Bodkin, Esq,--_Billy Bodkin_, the Hon. Sec. to the Mendicity Society: a bodkin that had so often pierced Billy to the heart--his wooden leg, earnestly desiring he might receive it in his _latter end_.

In life he had been accustomed to wear a military cocked hat, a judge’s full-bottomed cauliflower wig, and a naval officer’s jacket and trousers, symbolical of his being the head and arbiter of the naval, military, and judicial departments in his eleemosynary kingdom, these he bequeathed in the following manner: His _wig_ he left to the COURT OF CHANCERY, in the vague hope that they might obtain with it a little of his decision in equity, and promptness in justice. His _military hat_ he left to the HEADS of the HORSE GUARDS, and his _naval jacket_ and _trousers_ to the _old washerwomen_ that manage the GREENWICH HOSPITAL. The DEAL FIDDLE, on which he had been used to scrape his _native_ WOOD _notes wild_, we are happy to state, was taken out of lavender, and is now in the possession of the TYBURN _Ketch_ and Glee Club--the duplicate having been bequeathed to them for that purpose.

In conclusion we have only to state, that Billy was an accomplished cadger, a skilful musician, and adroit dancer--doing more on one leg than many others on two, and possessed abilities that as an actor would have rendered him a _shining_ ornament to the stage--“to hold, as t’were, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own black _image_!”

Billy was considered of sufficient public importance, when in the _flesh_, to be moulded and well _baked_ by a Potter, who taking up and moistening a lump of clay, said, “_Be ware!_” and then turned Billy out in one of his happiest moods and positions, with a broad grin on his black _mug_--a perfect _image_, suitable for a chimney or sideboard ornament; which found a ready sale at the time of its manufacture, but has now become very rare in perfect condition, and, much coveted by collectors to add to their Class, or Section of “ENGLISH CHARACTERS.” Specimens of this style of ware are exhibited in the Bethnal Green Museum, London. Henry Willett, Esq. of Brighton, also exhibits his fine collection of the same class of ware at the Brighton Free Public Library.

LINES ON BILLY WATERS.

BY W. REEVES, _June, 1823_.

Peace to the manes of Black Billy Waters, Well-known throughout the Town! The reason that he left these quarters-- Is plain--He was by Death done _brown_.

His life was one continu’d round Of pleasure and of glee; His fiddle caus’d the hearts to bound Of children as big as me.

_Mags_ came thick, this made him merry; Fortune changes in a crack-- Folks they went t’see Tom and Jerry, And on Billy turn’d their back.

Justice, at length, seiz’d on poor Bill, Who quickly took his _peg_ off; So they didn’t send him to the _Mill_, ’Cause, why? he’d got a leg off.

His day was o’er, he soon found out Poverty with rapid stride Follow’d him, and clamor’s shout Meant poor Billy to deride.

In vain he fiddl’d, danc’d and sung, Until he was out of breath; Starving he was, his bow unstrung, Till he danc’d--_The Dance of Death_.

The real name of this notorious street-character was Andrew Whiston. He was a born cripple, and in every respect a most miserable object of charity. Moncrieff imported him into his Adelphi version of “Tom and Jerry; or, Life in London,” as “Little Jemmy,” and there figures in the SCENE: _Back Slums in the Holy Land_: in company with Mr. Jenkins, Soldier Suke, Dingy Bet, Creeping Jack, Billy Waters, Ragged Dick, and other well-known characters.--_Vide_ page 46.

For many years Andrew, _alias_ “Little Jemmy,” had been in the habit of propelling himself about the streets of London in a little truck, or box on wheels, assisted by the aid of two small crutches. He always wore a white apron to conceal the deformity of his legs, which were curved, and had the appearance of thin planks, having no calves.

To avoid the penalties attached to begging and vagrancy he usually carried a few quill pens stuck in his coat and apron; declaring it to be the only trade to which he had been brought up, whence he was called _The Penmaker_! He has been heard to acknowledge he derived as much in his perambulations through the streets as amounted to £2 per week. It was his custom every morning to cross over Blackfriars Bridge for the purpose of gathering alms. He always prided himself as _leader_ of the “_Cadgers_,” in the metropolis, and was one of the most dissipated of the class to which he belonged; never returning to the hovel, in which he took up his abode, in the Borough, except in a state of intoxication. In his fits of inebriety, when at a distance from home, and incapable of proceeding, he was generally picked up by some of the numerous coalheavers, residing in the same quarter of the town, and carried to his dwelling on their shoulders; this, from his diminutive stature, was no very difficult task to perform.

On the night of his death, which occurred Monday, April 3, 1826, he had been drinking spirits, and porter, during the day, and was as usual carried home by two men; for which they were to receive a pot of beer. On setting down their burden, the unfortunate man--who had been conveyed with his head downwards, was discovered to be in a dying state. Surgical assistance was immediately procured, but poor “_Little Jemmy_,” was quite dead ere it arrived. Information of his death was given at 11 o’clock to the night constable of St. Saviour’s Parish, who proceeded to the house, the inmates of which refused to give up the body, on the ground that their late lodger died in their debt a month’s rent. Another strong reason for their refusal in delivering up the corpse, was a report that prevailed in the neighbourhood, that the surgeons of both the hospitals in the Borough had offered no less a sum than £100 for the body after death, for the purpose of dissection, in consequence of its extraordinary formation. The constable, however, claimed the body of the deceased, as none of his relations were on the spot, and conveyed it away to the watch-house, clearly perceiving that if it was left behind, the inmates would dispose of it to the highest bidder.

On Friday, April 7, an inquest was held at the Rose and Ball public-house, Bankside, Southwark, before R. Carter, Esq. Upon the return of the jury after viewing the body, all of whom expressed their astonishment at the decrepitude and peculiar formation of the singular little man. The surgeon in attendance having described the death to have occurred in consequence of apoplexy. The jury brought in a verdict in accordance with the medical evidence that the deceased died of “APOPLEXY.”

The day after the inquest sat on the body it was conveyed to St. Saviour’s Burial ground, and interred in a grave dug 14 feet in depth from the surface, over which were placed three other coffins, in order to secure it against the resurrection-men, who were anxious to have the corpse to dispose of.

Subsequently to the death of BILLY WATERS, the notorious black mendicant fiddler--March, 1823; “LITTLE JEMMY” acquired the soubriquet of The King of the Beggars.

The Tread-Mill at Brixton.

In the year 1817, Mr.--afterwards Sir William--Cubitt, of Ipswich, erected a Tread-Mill at Brixton Gaol--and soon afterwards in other large prisons, as a species of _preventive punishment_, which excited much attention and terror to evil doers, and proved eminently useful in decreasing the number of commitments; the strict discipline had a most salutary effect upon the prisoners not easily to be forgotten. Yet, the inventor’s name gave rise to many jokes on the subject among such of the prisoners who could laugh at their own crimes, who said that they were now punished by the _cubit_!

In nearly all the new and fa--vour--ite comic songs of the day allusion was made to the TREADMILL OF BRIXTON as--_The Everlasting Stairs!--The Stepping Mill!--The New Dancing Academy! &c._ A street-ballad on the subject was issued from the “Catnach Press” and had a most unprecedented sale, keeping the pressmen and boys working for weeks:--

“And we’re all treading, tread, tread, treading, And we’re all treading, at fam’d Brixton Mill.”

The following punning ditty was very popular at the period:--

THE TREADMILL.

This Brixton Mill’s a fearful ill, And he who brought the Bill in, Is threatn’d by the _cribbing_ coves, That he shall have a _milling_. They say he shew’d a simple pate, To think of felons mending: As every _step_ which here they take, They’re still in crime _ascending_.

And when releas’d, and in the streets Their former snares they’re spreading, They swear ’tis Parliament, which wills They must their old ways _tread in_. The Radicals begin to think ’Twill touch the Constitution, For as the _wheel_ moves round and round, It brings a _Revolution_.

But though these snarlers show their teeth, And try to vex the nation, Their actions soon are _tried_ and _judg’d_, And _grinding_ is their station. The _Gambling swells_ who near St. James’ Have _play’d_ their double dealings, Say ’tis not fair that Bow-street should Thus _work_ upon their feelings.

Tom, Jerry, Logic, three prime sprigs, Find here they cannot _come_ it, For though their _fancy_ soars aloft, They ne’er will reach the _summit_. Corinthian Kate and buxom Sue Must change their _warm_ direction, For if they make one _false step_ more They’ll have _Cold Bath Correction_.

The moon-struck youths who haunt the stage, And spend their master’s siller, Must here play to another tune, ’Tis called the _Dusty Miller_. Ye bits of blood (the watchman’s dread) Who love to floor a _Charley_, As you delight to strip and fight, Come forth and _mill_ the _barley_.

_John Barleycorn’s_ a stout old blade, As every man puts trust in, And you will make no _meal_ of him, But he’ll give you a _dusting_. But here we’ll stay, for _puns_ they say, Are bad as stealing purses And I to _Brixton_ may be sent, To _grind_ some _floury verses_.

THE WARNING.

_Supposed to have been sung by a Cadger to his Companions on his Return from “The New Dancing Academy,” Brixton._

_Tune._--“BOW WOW, &C.”

You Cadgers all, both great and small, Attend to vat I say, Sirs, All prigging stow, or you vill go Where I com’d from to day, Sirs. As down the Strand, a Gent so grand, Was strutting, mighty fine, Sirs, His hankercher hung out so fur, I really thought ’twas mine, Sirs. Tol de rol, &c.

I made a grab--he did me nab, To quod I quick vas taken; The magistrate he sat in state: I trembl’d for my bacon. Evidence o’er--oh vhat a bore!-- His eyes on me he fix’d on; Says he to me, “Go, have a spree At the _Treading Mill at Brixton_.” Tol de rol, &c.

Vhen I reach’d there, a surly bear, The steps he bid me mount, Sirs-- From Dirty Dick, up to the kick, Ve’d a swelling black legg’d Count, Sirs. Both high and low, they have a go: Oh! ’tis a decent pill, Sirs. They step avay, and cry all day, “The devil take the Mill, Sirs.” Tol de rol, &c.

Then varning take, and keep avake, For _Traps_ are not asleep, Sirs; They prowl about, to find us out, Like volves do after sheep, Sirs. My life I’ll change--don’t think it strange, I’ll vork, that’s vat I vill, Sirs, Both night and day, to keep away From the curs’d _Treading Mill_, Sirs, Tol de rol, &c.

In the Adelphi version of “Tom & Jerry,” there is as follow:--

_Black Slums in the Holy Land._

_Mr. J._ Does any gemmen understand these here Tread Mills, that have lately got such a footing?

_Jack._ Silence! Gemmen: I’m a-going to make a hobservation, Mr. Jenkins means them there Mills as makes you vork vether there’s any vork or no--I can only say this here, gemmen, if them there Mills are encouraged, it von’t be vorth no body’s vile to exercise vone’s calling--because, vy, von may as vell go and vork for vone’s living at once--but the subject von’t bear not no thinking on.

_Omnes._ Not by no means. (_General groans_).

_Billy Waters._ Oh, curse a de Tread Mill, me no like a de “here we go up, up, up,” and “down you go down, down, down,”--an’ if you no work, a great big lump of wood come and knock you down so--(_Strikes beggar on head with his fiddle, who falls down_). Poor fellow, him werry sorry.

_Tom and Jerry; or, Life in London._

TUNE.--“Picture of a Playhouse.”

Of Life in London, Tom, Jerry, and Logic I sing, ’Tis a subject (I hope it will please) Men and boys in my ears long time they did ding, So I determined to risk a good squeeze-- To the Strand then I toddled--the mob it 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.”

_Spoken._-“La, vel now, if I a’n’t all of a perspiration,--positively, I’m in a _melting_ mood;” this was uttered by a tallow chandler’s fat wife. Her hubby, Mr. Wicks, cries out “What the devil are you talking about _melting_?--for my part, I hate mention of business when I’m out on pleasure.” “Come, don’t be _dipping_ in my pocket, if you please, Sir.” “Vat, vat is de matter?” “Wat! who’s talking of wats?” “Vy, my dear Mr. Vicks, I think this man’s making a reticule of me.” “By the powers! it is a very fortunate circumstance he be making a reticule for you, Ma’am, for that there young man, in the drab great coat, has just cut yours from the chain, and put it in his pocket.” “Mind what you’re arter, mind your pockets.” “Where are you pushing to?” “Where am I pushing to? I’m pushing

To see Tom and Jerry, The lads who delight in A bottle of Sherry And watch to be fighting, For that’s the time o’ day.

In the course of the piece is the parlour of Cribb, There they chaunted their songs full of glee; In the chair sits blythe Tom, he’s the real boy to fib, And he’s also the boy for a spree. The street-row comes next, and is kept up so well, That I laugh’d and never wish’d the fun done, Those who play Charlies, I’m sure they can tell What a street-row is in fam’d London.

_Spoken._--“La! now, is this not a delightful picture of life! how do you like it, my dear?” “Oh Mamma, I likes it very well, only one thing is, I’m sorry I didn’t bring some hapennies out of my money-box, to give the poor beggar-people.” “Dear little innocent!” “Was you innocent when you was little, Mamma?” “Yes, my love.” “But, are you innocent now, Mamma?” “Why, yes--that is to say--as most women of my age are, my dear.” “Well. Mr. O’Quiz, how do you like the piece?” “Faith, now, the piece is very well, only one thing.” “And what may that be, pray?” “Why, I’m not inclined to make any objection at all, at all: but, by my soul! this is the first time I ever saw or heard of Life in St. Giles’s, without an Irishman being concerned in it.” “Hollo! what is all this hubbubboo?” “Why, it’s the half price, pushing in

To see Tom and Jerry, &c.

High life and low life are correctly pourtrayed At Almack’s, I mean both the East and the West. The actor’s look life, they so well are arrayed, But the Back Slums to my mind is surely the best. Logic a party invites to give them a treat, The bailiff comes in and Bob’s undone; He by Nab’em is _press’d_ and ta’en to the _Fleet_, Which brings to a close Life in London.

_Spoken._--The piece being over, there’s a grand rush to the doors: then, hey for the pleasures of a soaking wet night. “Well, positively, ’pon honor, if it does’nt rain; its enough to make any one _cross_ when one’s going out to a _ball_.” “Want a coach your honor?” “Yes, drive me to _St. Paul’s_.” “What, in the name of St. Patrick, can he want at the _cross_ and _ball_ of _St. Paul’s_ at this time of night?” “Oh! bless my soul! I think I’ve broken my leg.” “Coach to Cripplegate.” “I say, look at that Cove diving at that Gent’s pocket.” “I hope you’ll excuse me, but I’ve got a cold, therefore want my hankerchief; but, as you’re so fond of _diving_, I’ll accommodate you--the Thames is near, and you shall have a dam’d good _ducking_.” “All right, Coachee.” “Watch! Watch!” “Hark! the Pianos going.” “Watch! Watch!” “What’s the row?” “Oh! only some fancy Lads, who, having seen the Charlies well mill’d inside, have already commenced milling them outside, and the word with them is

We’re like Tom and Jerry, &c.

The following ballad is from the “Catnach Press:”--

_PIERCE EGAN; OR, LIFE IN LONDON._

Written by a Corinthian, and sung in Prime Twig by an Out-and-Outer.

In the country, our squire Had a very large book, Which into my hands I quite often had took; Life in London, I think, Were the name that it had, And ’twas wrote by Pierce Egan, That comical lad. Oh, Pierce Egan! knowing Pierce Egan, You must in your time have seen wonderful fun.

When I first came from country Into this great town, I laugh’d at each joke As I walked up and down; Till three fellows I met, They were bold as could be; And Tom, Jerry, and Logic, Say they, you now see. Oh, Pierce Egan! &c.

At night, in the street, You are sure of a row, And the Charlies are bother’d I cannot tell how; But if to the watch-house The chaps be all taken, You’ll find Egan’s heroes To be there, sure as bacon. Oh, Pierce Egan &c.

E’en the boys in the street Do talk flash, you must know, And the real out-and-outers Do strut to and fro; While a _gemmen_ in powder From none will retreat, But will _peel_, a coal-heaver, Or dustman to beat. Oh, Pierce Egan! &c.

And since Life in London Has been all the rage, There’s nothing else now That will do for the stage; And parsons, and tailors, And barbers likewise Go to Spring, Cribb, or Belcher, To learn to black eyes. Oh, Pierce Egan! &c.

But this I must say To my friends in this place, That _chaffing_ and _milling_ Does puppies disgrace; And if they would know How such knaves may be undone, They’ll read that same book Which is called Life in London. Oh, Pierce Egan! &c.

J. Catnach, Printer, 2, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials.

“Pity the sorrows of a poor old man.”

St. Giles’s clock had sounded two, The moon was on the wane, And bitterly the north wind blew; In torrents fell the rain.

When like a goblin from the grave, A ghastly form appear’d, And thrice a grievous groan it gave, Thrice scratch’d its grisly beard.

Tall, wretched, shiv’ring, pale and thin, It brav’d the pelting storm, Without an upper Benjamin To keep the carcase warm.

Prostrate upon the flags it lay, Where Seven Dials meet; And “Och!” it cried, “is this the way A jontleman to treat?

“I soon must haste to join the throng On Pluto’s dreary coast-- I’ve given up my _spirits_ long, Now I’ll give up the _ghost_.

“Yes! I must go, at fate’s command, In Charon’s ferry boat, And change the _rattle_ in my hand For _rattles_ in my throat.

“That rattle which the prigs to catch Would other Charleys bring, _Watchmen_, we know, are like a _watch_-- Nothing without a _spring_.

“My lanthorn!--and the thought, I vow, The sob of sorrow draws; No _lanthorn_ can I carry now, Except my _lanthorn jaws_.

“With grief unfeign’d my heart is big-- The power of utterance fails, And losing thee, my old _Welsh_ wig, This tortur’d heart be-_Wails_.

“My night-cap red, which this poor head Hath screen’d from damp and dew, Like my poor cap, I’ve lost my _nap_, And I am _worsted_ too.

“Snug in my _box_ I bore the shocks Of drunkard’s jeer and scoffing; Now the vile _cough_ will take me off, And _box_ me in a _coffin_.

“To thee, my pipe, my bosom yearns-- Those moments, free from pain, In which I sat and smok’d _returns_, Will ne’er _return_ again.

“This New Police has laid me flat-- Let Christian hearts condole; And in the mud they _roll_ poor _Pat_, Who once was a _Patrol_.

“Och! when I think of former years, It almost drives me crazy; Bear up, my sowl--be dry, my tears-- My throbbing heart be azy.

“Once I was young, but now I’m owld, Once full of fun and frisky-- But now I shudder with the cowld And the devil a drop of whisky!”

He spoke, and sadly gaz’d around (The last words he could utter), Then with a mournful _guttural_ sound, Roll’d headlong in the _gutter_.

Printed by T. BIRT, 10, Great St. Andrew-Street, (wholesale and retail,) Seven Dials, London.

Country Orders punctually attended to. Every description of Printing on the most reasonable terms, Children’s Books, Battledores, Pictures, &c.

THE SPREES OF TOM, JERRY AND LOGIC;

_A New Song, of Flash, Fashion, Frolic, and Fun._

Come all ye swells and sporting blades who love to see good fun, Who in the dark, to have a lark, a mile or two would run; Here’s a dish of entertainment which cannot fail to please, The rigs of Tom and Jerry, and all their jolly sprees. With their dash along, flash along, to Life and London haste away, Where sprees and rambles, larks and gambols, is the time of day.

From Hawthorn-Hall young Jerry came to see his cousin Tom, And with his friend Bob Logic acquainted soon became, Then to cut a dash, he learns the flash, to act high life and low, And up and down through all the town at night they rambling go.

In a morning at Tattersall’s you may them often see, ’Mong jockies, grooms, and chaunters, a knowing company; In the afternoon they’re lounging in Burlington Arcade, And at night they’re at the Opera, Ball, or Masquerade.

Among the milling kiddy coves young Jerry took delight, And was always first to raise a purse to have a glorious fight. A Fancy blade he then became, and his courage ran so high, That in his room, he floor’d his groom, and black’d his valet’s eye.

Then off to Leicester-fields they’d march, the Strand, or Drury-lane Among the sporting ladies to carry on the game, They’d take them to a gin-shop and treat them round so civil, Then spur them on to fight and scratch each other like the devil.

While rambling up and down one night they came to Temple-Bar, And to have a spree, they did agree, ’gainst the Charlies to make war, Then in the twinkling of an eye a watch-box was upset, The Watchy roar’d till all was blue, but out he could not get.

They smash’d their lanterns, kick’d their shins, and did their pipkins crack, And laid them down so neatly one by one upon their backs, The prigs and sporting ladies all joined in the row, But Jerry, Tom, and Logic by the pigs [watchmen] were ta’en in tow.

Then to the Holy Land they went disguis’d from top to toe, To see the Beggar’s Opera where all the Cadgers go, With Mahogany Bet they had a lark, Black Moll, and Dumpling Kate, And treated all the apple-women with a yard of tape [gin].

Now, with your leave good folks I will conclude my flashy song, I hope you’re entertained, and I’ve not detain’d you long, And Logic, Tom, and Jerry, do cordially unite, To thank you for your patronage, and wish you all Good Night.

With their dash along, &c.

LONDON: Printed by J. CATNACH, 2 Monmouth Court, 7 Dials. Battledores, Lotteries, and Primers sold cheap. Travellers and Shopkeepers supplied with Sheet Hymns. Patter and Slips. Songs as Cheap and Good as any Shop in London. Where an Immense number of songs are always ready. ☞ Cards, &c., Printed cheap.

I’M A CONSTABLE IN MY OWN RIGHT.

I’m a Constable in my own right, I think that I am of some use; A searching by day and by night; Correcting of every abuse. I carries my staff in my hand, My power to let the folks see; I’m certain all over the land There’s no one so busy as me. And I’m a Constable, &c.

A Beggar I know by his rags, A thief I can tell by his looks; My eyes and my nose never flags, I puts ’em down in my black books; The blind beggars when they sees me A coming ne’er stops to stand still; Tho’ ever so lame, they walk free, Or else they would walk to the mill. For I’m a Constable, &c.

The Publicans all are polite, As soon as they sees me come in, They press, and entreat, and invite To choose of rum, brandy, or gin; But from me they gets a rebuff, The offer I always decline; I scorns to take such vile stuff, As I never drinks nothing but wine. And I’m a Constable, &c.

The Watchmen don’t dare go to sleep, They knows they’d be fined if they do; Round with the Patroles I creep, Each morning between one and two. The Patrole’s don’t like it, ’tis true, But of me they all are afraid, And I’m resolved my duty to do, For I know there’s some cash to be made. For I’m a Constable, &c.

Old women who sits with the fruit, Had better not come in my claw; I pulls ’em up----won’t let ’em do’t, Because ’tis contrary to law: Such nuisances ought to be fin’d And I get a share of the pelf; My trouble I never don’t mind, ’Cause I keeps a green-grocer’s myself. And I’m a Constable, &c.

The Watch-house owns me for its king, I reigns there without a control; If any blackguards they bring, I sends ’em down to the black hole; But if a gentleman gets drunk, so free, And is brought in----mayhap for a whim If he behaves genteel to me, Why I behaves genteel to him. For I’m a Constable, &c.

When I sits in my chair of a night, Should any unfortunate _gals_ Be brought in, I thinks it but right To commit ’em along with their pals. The Toms and the Jerrys I hooks, And takes them to Bow Street, next day; Tho’ when very sorry they looks, I lets them off if they can pay. For I’m a Constable, &c.

The butchers’ and chandlers’ shops, What used to be serving o’ Sunday, So shockingly wicked, I stops; I pulls them all up on the Monday, I shows no favours to none, My labours they seem to prove double, And thinks before I have done, I shall save Mr. Johnson some trouble. For I’m a Constable, &c.

Our Parish has got a bad plan, ’Tis always to quarrel and storm; I’m sure I shall do all I can To bring on a speedy reform: Our Overseers are all quite strange, And that any body may see; It would make a most wonderful change, If they all were as busy as me. For I’m a Constable, &c.

LONDON: Printed by GOLD and WALTON, Wardour Street, Oxford Street, For T. Hudson, Kean’s Head, Russell Court, Drury Lane, 1828.

When again shall we THREE meet, Amongst the _Swells_ in Regent Street? Come soon, my boy--come with glee, For lots of FUN--another _Spree_!

With respect to the publication of LIFE IN LONDON; or, the Day and Night Scenes of Tom and Jerry. The proverbial everybody seems for the _nonce_ to have been pleased with the work. The thirty-six scenes from Real Life, designed and etched by the Brothers Cruikshank had much to do with its success, and everybody seems to have made a great deal of money out of the circumstance--save and except the author, Pierce Egan, for he very loudly and frequently, and also “_cry-baby-like_,” declared _inter alia_, that he received--“more of the kicks than the halfpence” by reason of the _Pirates_ and _Thieves_ being ever on the alert to _prig_ his thoughts and ideas, and that the whole crew of them united to _grab_ all the “_lively things!_” out of his head, and so render the “cash account” at his bankers all but nugatory. Then--“came the cry of immorality, so loudly raised by the Actor’s old rivals the Religious Tract Society, the Methodists, and other sectarian parties.” Yet, in spite of all that could be said or sung in the matter Pierce wrote that--“he was _too game_ to be made a _dummy_ of: therefore he was determined _to take the leap_, and have another “_shy-up_,” and go “_double or quits_,” with that supreme goddess of the gods FAME!!! and try his luck once more in the field of literature and announced the publication of his new work _The Finish_ thus:--

THE AUTHOR TO THE READERS OF LIFE IN AND OUT OF LONDON.

After the lapse of Seven Years the Author has once more seized hold of the _feather_, and the Artist his _pencil_, with an earnest endeavour to follow the advice of our immortal bard, or rather adopt him as a model, “nothing to extenuate, or set down aught in malice!” and:--

To hold as ’twere The Mirror up to Nature; to show Virtue her own feature, Vice her own image, and the very age And body of the Time, its form and pressure.

Then thus it is--the “glorious uncertainty” of pleasing every class of society respecting a knowledge of LIFE IN LONDON being essential towards the improvement of the junior branches of mankind; and although contrary to the established and sapient rules of the College of Physicians, and the practice pursued by our learned friends in Westminster Hall, we are, nevertheless, anxious to give advice without a fee, in order to prove that, in all cases, whether connected with youth or more mature age, PREVENTION is much better than CURE; indeed, so anxious are we to set ourselves right with the public, as to our future intentions respecting this work, and that we may see our way clearly, and tread on the firmest ground, we feel inclined to adopt the latin proverb so often quoted by BOB LOGIC to the unsuspecting JERRY, on his first arrival in the metropolis:--

_Incidit in Scyllam qui vult vitare Charybdim._

The necessity is absolute; or, rather, an apology is required for the introduction of the Author and Artist to the notice of reader, previous to the second appearance of those heroes--CORINTHIAN TOM, LOGIC and JERRY, on the great theatre of the world! _pour quoi?_ to vindicate the characters of the Author and Artist from unmerited aspersion of having attempted, by the joint efforts of real tales, original anecdotes, and animated sketches, to demoralize the rising generation; and likewise to refute the charge of having turned the heads of older folks towards the commission of acts of folly and intemperance enough! To our task----“Hark forward’s the word, see the game is in view!” and our exertions will be vigorously directed to establish, if possible. “_Tâche sans tâche._” Our principal aim being to realize, to the utmost extent, the attractive motto:--

PRO BONO PUBLICO!

Proceed, my boy, nor heed their further call, Vain his attempts who strives to please you all!

THE _FINISH TO THE ADVENTURES_ OF TOM, JERRY, AND LOGIC, In their Pursuits through LIFE IN AND OUT OF LONDON, BY PIERCE EGAN.

With numerous Coloured Illustrations by ROBERT CRUIKSHANK.

London: George Virtue and Co., Ivy Lane, Paternoster Row.

The _Finish_ to Life in London is embellished with thirty six illustrations by Robert Cruikshank, and contains XV. CHAPTERS of letter-press matter. Tom, Jerry and Logic are again brought on the scene, and several additional characters are introduced into the work, notably _Sir_ John Blubber, _Knt._, a second Falstaff, without stuffing, a most facetious, jolly, good-natured soul, one of that class of persons deemed independent, and his property enabled him to “care for nobody.” The adventures of the personnæ in their pursuits of Life in and Out of London are fully described, and the “_Finish!_” of LOGIC, the Oxonian, and CORINTHIAN TOM narrated as follow.