(_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!
_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.
_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.
_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!_
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.