Punch, or the London Charivari | Page 4

'Ow you
are worrying yourself to be sure!
A Polite Stranger (_accosting an Individual who is personifying the
London County Council by the aid of a hat surmounted by a sky-sign, a
cork bridge and a tin tramcar, a toy Clown and a butterfly on his chest,
a portrait of Mlle. Zoeo on his back, a miniature fireman under an
extinguisher, and a model crane, which he winds up and down with
evident enjoyment_). Excuse me, Sir, but would you mind showing us
round you--or is there a catalogue to your little collection?
[_The L.C.C. maintains a dignified silence._
Pierrot (_critically to Cleopatra_). Very nice indeed, my dear
girl,--except that they ought to have given you a serpent to carry, you
know'
Cleopatra. Oh, they _did_--only I left it in the Cloak-room.
A Man with a False Nose (_to a Friend who is wearing his natural

organ_). Why, I thought you said you were coming in a nose?
His Friend. So I did (_he produces an enormous nose and cheeks from
his tail-pocket_). But it's no mortal use; the minute I put it on I'm
recognised (_plaintively_). And I gave one-and-ninepence for the
beastly thing, too!
Young Man of the Period (_meeting a female acquaintance attired in
ferns, rock-work, and coloured shells, illuminated by portable electric
light_). Hul-lo! You are a swell! And what are you supposed to be?
_The Lady in Rock-work_. Can't you see? I'm a Fairy Grotto. Good
idea, isn't it?
He. Rippin'! But what the mischief have you got on your shoulder?
She. Oh, that's an aquarium--real goldfish. See!
[_Exhibiting them with pride._
He. Ain't you lettin' 'em sit up rather late? They will be chippy
to-morrow--off colour, don't you know.
She. Will they? What ought I to do for them, then?
He. Do? Oh, just put a brandy-and-soda in their tank.
_Later; Supper is going on in the Boxes and Supper-room, and the
festivity has been further increased by the arrival of a party of Low
Comedians and Music-Hall Stars. The Lancers have been danced with
more abandonment, and several entirely new and original figures._
The Chevalier Bayard (_at the Refreshment Bar--to a Watteau
Shepherdess_). I say, you come along and dance with me, will
you?--and look here, if you dance well, I'll give you a drink when it's
over. If you don t dance to please me, you'll get nothing. See?
The Watteau Shepherdess (_with delicate disdain_). 'Ere, you go along,
you silly ass!

[_Hits him with her crook._
A Gentleman who has obviously supped (_catching hold of a passing
Acquaintance, whose hand he wrings affectionately_). Dear ole
HUGHIE! don't go away just yet. Shtop an' talk with me. Got lotsh er
things say to you, dear ole boy--mosh 'portant things! Shure you, you're
the on'y man in the wide world I ever kicked a care--cared a kick about.
Don't you leave me, HUGHIE!
[Illustration: "Exit unsteadily towards Bar."]
Hughie (_who is looking for his partner_). Not now, old man--can't
stop. See you later!
[_He makes his escape._
_The Affect. G._ (_confidentially--to a Policeman_). Thash a very dear
ole pal o' mine, plishman, a very dear ole pal. Worsht of him
ish--shimply imposhble get a lit' rational conversation with him. No
sheriousness in his character!
[_Exit unsteadily towards Bar, in blissful unconsciousness that
somebody has attached a large false nose and spectacles to the buttons
of his coat-tails._
A Troubadour (_jealously--to an Arleguina_). No--but look here, you
might just as well say right put which costume you like best--mine
or--(_indicating a Cavalier on her other side_)--his.
Arleguina (_cautiously--not desiring to offend either_). Well, I'd rather
be _him_--not as a _man_, I wouldn't--but, as _myself_, I'd like to be
this one.
[_Both appear equally satisfied and soothed by this diplomatic, but
slightly mystic response._
_A Vivandière_ (_to a Martyr, who is shuffling along inside a
property-trunk, covered with twigs, and supposed to represent a Bird in

the Hand_). Well, that's one way of coming out to enjoy yourself, I
suppose!
_A Middle-aged Man_ (_wandering behind the Orchestra_). It's beastly
dull, that's what it is--none of the give-and-take humour and practical
fun you get in Paris or Vienna!... That's a nice, simple-looking little
thing in the seat over there. (_The simple-looking little thing peeps at
him, with one eye over her fan, in arch invitation._) Gad, I'll go up and
talk to her--it will be something to _do_, at any rate--she looks as if she
wouldn't mind. (_He goes up._) Think I know your face--haven't we
met before?
The Simple Little Thing (after an elaborate wink aside at a Fireman).
Shouldn't wonder. Don't you run away yet. Sit down and talk to me--do
now. No, not that side--try the arm-chair, it's more comfortable.
_The M.M._ (_throwing himself gracefully into a well-padded chintz
chair_). Well, really--(_The chair suddenly digs him