_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.
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