Your cobbler 's drunk one day in three And that 's not right; From morn till night. Then if these A king employs His royal hours to pass, He that would not be A king like me Must be an ass He that would not be A king like me (A cry of Coachee, Coachee, by several voices without.) RUM. What means that direful clatter?-Ha! approach! What art thou ? Enter JEM FLOGGEM. FLOG. Driver of a hackney-coach. RUM. What number driv'st thou? Sire, as I 'm alive, I drive no number-'tis a coach I drive. The number of my coach is four-sixteen. RUM. Equivocating slave! 'tis that I mean. (Aside.) The very number!-then our dream is out. (TO FLOG.) 'Tis plot and treason that thou com'st about. FLOG. It is, my liege. But how thou cam'st to know it RUM. Is not thy business. FLOG. Thou 'rt a rum-un-go it! RUM. O, insolence! Now, guided by my rage, I'd fain condemn the varlet to the cage; Thence to the Poultry Counter; thence-But, hold; He comes a tale of treason to unfold, And anger must a while to interest bow. (TO FLOG.) Now tell me all-each when, each where, each how. FLOG. I will be candid, sire. I come to serve thee : Thou 'rt in a pickle, but 'tis I 'll preserve thee. RUM. Let truth, not puns, o'er what thou say'st prevail. Proceed. Be that thy cue. FLOG. And this my tale. E'en now, as I was waiting for a fare, RUM. Right loyal Coachee! (Aside.) How shall I requite him? I 'll go the cheapest way to work: I'll knight him.- FLOG. Jem Floggem. RUM. (drawing his sword) Kneel. FLOG. Don't go to trim me. RUM. Kneel down, Jem Floggem, and arise-Sir Jemmy. FLOG. I'd rather touch the ready. RUM. Thankless beast ! FLOG. I thought you 'd give me one-pound-one, at least. What good to me with titles to be cramm'd ? RUM. Art not a knight? FLOG. Your majesty be-spiflicated! RUM. Take this, bold traitor. (Stabs him.) Ha! I'm summon'd straight The grave, the Bow Street-Death, the magistrate. Thus be each Jarvey taken on the hip. Now for the traitors. Let's peruse their scheme :- We 'll place Sir Jemmy's body on the throne. Rascallo will mistake it for our own. (Places the body on the throne.) Thus we 'll out-scheme our deadly-scheming foes. Hang him, he 's coming. RASC. (RUMFUSKIN goes off hastily with long strides. RASCALLO, dagger in hand, enters, and instantly follows him in the same way, saying) Hang him, there he goes! Enter CONSCIENZO and GRISKINDA. CONS. Here, then, we are. But, ah! what deed to do! [Exit. GRISK. (coolly.) To run Rumfuskin's body through and through. CONS. I own for such vagaries I'm not made. GRISK. A captain of militia, and afraid! CONS. I shake like calf's-foot jelly. GRISK. But what I say I'll do. Give me the dagger. I 'm no bragger, (Approaches the throne.) CONS. Hold up, my heart!-'tis done-Rumfuskin dies! O horror! See where ready-killed he lies! GRISK. (kneels to CONSCIENZO, and with enthusiasm.) Hail, Con scienzo! King of the North Pole! Enter RASCALLO, with a bloody dagger. RASC. Not whilst Rascallo lives, upon my soul! Thou, traitor, promisedst to lend a hand, Alone thou left'st me to commit the crime. - Oh! GRISK. And shall be, too. CONS. RASC. And will. He shan't, that 's flat. GBISK. Here's to decide it, then; take this! (Stabs RASCALLO.) SCRUB. SCRUBINDA rushes on and stabs GRISKINDA. GRISK. And here! (Stabs SCRUBINDA.) RASC. CONS. Take that! And there! (Stabs CONSCIENZO.) I scarcely care a button For living now, for I'm as dead as mutton. (They each draw a chair, and fall into it.) RASC. (looking at his wound.) My wound is mortal. SCRUB. (doing the same.) CONS. So is mine. Mine too. GRISK. In me she has bored a hole quite through and through. RASC. But see where comes the kill'd and wounded King. CONS. Why, there he lies. (Pointing to SIR JEMMY.) RASC. Pooh! nonsense! no such thing: 'Tis Jem the coachman. CONS. O, most fatal blunder ! Enter RUMFUSKIN, wounded, led on by SENTENTIOSUS, Lord High Chancellor. RUM. Gently, my good Lord Chancellor, for, oh! We feel our life is just upon the go. Here will we die. SENT. We die! (Aside.) O, curse his we's! (To him.) Your Kingship will die solus if you please. RUM. Thou know'st when we say 'we,' we mean but I. RUM. My good Lord Chancellor, ere we die, take note, Thou must oblige us. SENT. RUM. How, sire ? Brush our coat. SENT. Ha! brush thy coat! No, tyrant, be it known, A Lord High Chancellor would not brush his own. (A threatening gesture by the King.) Think not, my sovereign, I'm too bold in stating That task were fitter for a lord in waiting. RUM. We're dying, so thy boldness we excuse, Else would we make your lordship black our shoes. See where the regicidal rebels lie. Remove yon corpse, for on our throne we'll die. Pity our fate, ye traitors; 'tis a hard one! ALL, except SENT. We beg your Majesty's most gracious pardon. RUM. (TO SENT.) Now, ere we die, my lord, return our conscience: Thou art the keeper on't. SENT. What, I? Psha! nonsense! RUM. Thou'rt keeper of our conscience, fire and fury ! RUM. We think thou'rt wrong: but, prythee, send about it; And tell his Grace we cannot die without it. FLOG. 'Tis well I'm dead, or I should die of laughter. We killed you upwards of an hour ago. FLOG. 'Tis true you killed me, sire; but that's no rule. (TO SENT.) My lord, what does the Act of Parliament say? SENT. (takes an Act of Parliament from his pocket.) "Tis thus en acted: If he can, he may. RUM. Law still is law. -Now lets to business.-Oh! We'll settle the succession ere we go. Thou shalt be king, my lord: and thus we close all Life's weighty matters. (Dies.) SENT. Now hear my proposal: No more of dying-all offences smother Live for the present, and forgive each other. RUM. A noble motion (To FLOG.) Hence, unwieldy drone, And let thy monarch reassume his throne. All live again! Lord Chancellor, this way hand 'em. (SENTENTIOSUS presents each to the King, till he comes to CONSCIENZO, who refuses.) CONS. I'd rather die. SENT. De gustibus non est disputandum. RUM. Live, I command. Slave! die against my pleasure, And of an unmade grave I'll take thy measure. CONS. Since 'tis thy royal pleasure, sire, I'll live. RUM. Whate'er is past we freely do forgive. SENT. Your Majesty is much too good. (Aside.) But I Will file 'gainst each a bill in Chancery. RASC. For what is past my heart is full of sorrow. CONS. Henceforth let mortals, for each other's use meant, MORAL. GRISKINDA comes forward. When worth and honour radiate the heart, THE END. THE SAILOR. COME, Jack, my hearty, bear a hand! No skulking!-turn up. The ladies and gentlemen look on you as 'a lion,' and would have a peep. Come, and come in all your tarry glory. Shove a fresh quid into your cheek, and give your love-locks another twist. Let's have all genuine, even to the hitched-up trowsers, the professional hat, with its pendent streamers, the long-quartered pumps, and the deep-sea roll, then the grog-glorious grog!-shall be so too. We must have a regular blue-water lad-a Portsmouth or Wapping boy; no long-shorer, no cod-catcher will do. Out on tailor-tars and masquerade sailors! be-belted, be-daggered, and be-pistolled; we'll none o' them. Nor do we intend to dilate on the perilous adventures of those who navigate that endless sea, the Paddington canal. Cornbarges and coal-barges, lighters, hoys, oyster-boats, and wherries, we have nothing to do with you or yours; with those amphibious animals, dressed as sailors, complexioned like colliers, that direct the monsters which smoke along our shores, and convey seafaring cockneys to Greenwich and the Nore, we shall not stop to con verse. We must impress for our purposes a blade who has been round the world, and on all sides of it; one who has been done brown' under the meridian, and afterwards frozen grey at the Pole; who has been tattooed in Otaheite, and spitted for roasting in New Zealand. The lad must have floored Patagonians by dozens; have existed for three months on a rat's hind-quarter, three leather shoes, and a satin slipper; been the only survivor in nineteen shipwrecks ; and once, when his vessel foundered at sea, made a voyage from the latitude of the Cape to the Azores on a hen-coop, catching dolphins and boobies by the way for his support. He must have seen every sight for which the ocean is remarkable, and, above all, the Flying Dutchman.' He must love his ship as his mother, and the sea as his home, regarding the land as a place merely for fresh water and wives. Fear must be unknown to him whenever danger comes in bodily substance; but he may be allowed to dread ghosts, goblins, and mermaids, which latter if he has heard sing and held conversation with, the better. He may shun the old hulk on board which the captain killed the cabin-boy, and the crew killed the captain, without his courage being doubted; he may assert having seen hundreds of spirits dancing on the waves where great battles have been fought, and his veracity be unimpugned. He must fear no man but the land-shark, dread nothing substantial save the 'cat' and the bilboes. We shall expect him to be able to spin a decent yarn; we do not want him to be learned; we require to know about 'Nelson and the Nile,' the old Victory, and the fighting Temeraire, as he saw them. It is to be hoped he will be one who has aided often in laying the Frenchman's flag flat on his deck, as well as easing the Don of his dollars-when the said Don had them. Such an one, and more especially if he acts like a sailor ashore, gets rid of the earn |