[The _guardia municipale_ of Venice is now dressed like the London policeman.]
That afternoon when first you burst Upon my quite bewildered eyes, I seemed in London; you are too Confusing in that strange disguise.
The very clothes of blue! It's true In black kid gloves you are arrayed, No truncheon at your side you hide, A sword is openly displayed.
That vile black helmet yet you get, Most dismal head-dress ever planned. In Venice this! Where once doge, dunce, Dame, doctor, all were gay and grand.
In that prosaic dress! Oh, bless The man, why wear such awful things? In Venice long ago, we know, The costermongers looked like kings.
Italians love what's new, so you Suit buildings all, _de haut en bas_, Restored and new--how bad and sad! But you're a still worse _novità_.
A peeler pacing here--how queer! A copper checking crimes and larks, When gleams on lone lagoon the moon! A bobby's beat beside St. Mark's!
BY A BIRKENHEAD MAN.--The LEVER, though strong, could not _quite_ lift the Liberal minority into power, but it brought the Conservative majority down to its LEES!
SCENE XXVI.--_A Gallery near the Verney Chamber._ TIME--_About_ 10.30 P.M.
_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). I must say it's rather rough luck on that poor devil. I get his dress suit, and all _he_ gets is my booby-trap! (PHILLIPSON, _wearing a holland blouse over her evening toilette, approaches from the other end of the passage; he does not recognise her until the moment of collision_.) EMMA!! It's never _you_! How do you come to be _here_?
_Phillipson_ (_to herself_). Then it _was_ my JEM after all! (_Aloud, distantly._) I'm here in attendance on Lady MAISIE MULL, being her maid. If I was at all curious--which I'm not--I might ask you what _you're_ doing in such a house as this; and in evening dress, if you please!
_Spurr._ I'm in evening dress, EMMA, such as it is (not that I've any right to find fault with it); but I'm in evening dress (_with dignity_) because I've been included in the dinner party here.
_Phill._ You must have been getting on since _I_ knew you. Then you were studying to be a horse-doctor.
_Spurr._ I _have_ got on. I am now a qualified M.R.C.V.S.
_Phill._ And does that qualify you to dine with bishops and countesses and baronets and the gentry, like one of themselves?