Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II. Egan Pierce

we boast, who ne'er their malice baulk,

      But talk their minds—we wish they'd mind their talk;

      Big-worded bullies, who by quarrels live,

      Who give the lie, and tell the lie they give;

      Jews from St. Mary-Axe, for jobs so wary,

      That for old clothes they'd even axe St. Mary;

      And Bucks with pockets empty as their pate,

      Lax in their gaiters, laxer in their gait.

      Say, why these Babel strains from Babel tongues?

      Who's that calls “Silence” with such leathern lungs?

      He, who, in quest of quiet, “Silence” hoots,

      Is apt to make the hubbub he imputes.”

      IN a few minutes they entered Dolly's, from whence, after partaking of a cheerful repast and an exhilarating glass of wine, a coach conveyed them to Drury-lane. ',

      “Now,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “I shall introduce you to a new scene in Real Life, well worth your close observation. We have already taken a promiscuous ramble from the West towards the East, and it has afforded some amusement; but our stock is abundant, and many objects of curiosity are still in view.”

      “Yes, yes,” continued Sparkle, “every day produces novelty; for although London itself is always the same, the inhabitants assume various forms, as inclination or necessity may induce or compel. The Charioteer of to-day, dashing along with four in hand, may be an inhabitant of the King's-bench to-morrow, and—but here we are, and Marino Faliero is the order of the night. The character of its author is so well known, as to require no observation; but you will be introduced to a great variety of other characters, both in High and Low Life, of an interesting nature.”

      By this time they had alighted, and were entering the House. The rapid succession of carriages arriving with the company, the splendour of the equipages, the general elegance of the dresses, and the blazing of the lamps, alternately became objects of attraction to Bob, whose eyes were kept in constant motion—while “A Bill of the Play for Covent Garden or Drury Lane,” still resounded in their ears.

      On arriving at the Box-lobby, Tom, who was well known, was immediately shewn into the centre box with great politeness by the Box-keeper,{1} the second scene of the Tragedy being just over. The appearance of the House was a delicious treat to Bob, whose visual orbs wandered more among the delighted and delightful faces which surrounded him, than to the plot or the progress of the performances before him. It was a scene of splendour of which lie had not the least conception; and Sparkle perceiving the principal objects of attraction, could not resist the impulse to deliver, in a sort of half-whisper, the following lines:—

      “When Woman's soft smile all our senses bewilders,

      And gilds while it carves her dear form on the heart,

      What need has new Drury of carvers and gilders?

      With nature so bounteous, why call upon art?

      1 The Box-keeper to a public Theatre has many duties to

      perform to the public, his employer, and himself; but,

      perhaps, in order to be strictly correct, we ought to have

      reversed the order in which we have noticed them, since of

      the three, the latter appears to be the most important, (at

      least) in his consideration; for he takes care before the

      commencement of the performance to place one of his

      automaton figures on the second row of every box, which

      commands a good view of the House, who are merely intended

      to sit with their hats off, and to signify that the two

      first seats are taken, till the conclusion of the second

      act; and so in point of fact they are taken by himself, for

      the accommodation of such friends as he is quite aware are

      willing to accommodate him with a quid pro quo. How well would our Actors attend to their duties, Our House save in oil, and our Authors in wit, In lieu of yon lamps, if a row of young Beauties Glanc'd light from their eyes between us and the Pit. The apples that grew on the fruit-tree of knowledge By Woman were pluck'd, and she still wears the prize, To tempt us in Theatre, Senate, or College— I mean the Love-apples that bloom in the eyes. There too is the lash which, all statutes controlling, Still governs the slaves that are made by the Fair, For Man is the pupil who, while her eye's rolling, Is lifted to rapture, or sunk in despair.”

      Tallyho eagerly listened to his friend's recitation of lines so consonant with his own enraptured feelings; while his Cousin Dashall was holding a conversation in dumb-show with some person at a distance, who was presently recognized by Sparkle to be Mrs. G——den,{1} a well-known frequenter of the House.

      “Come,” said he, “I see how it is with Tom—you may rely upon it he will not stop long where he is, there is other game in view—he has but little taste for Tragedy fiction, the Realities of Life are the objects of his regard.

      “Tis a fine Tragedy,” continued he, addressing himself to Tom.

      “Yes—yes,” replied the other, “I dare say it is, but, upon my soul, I know nothing about it—that is—I have seen it before, and I mean to read it.”

      “Bless my heart!” said a fat lady in a back seat, “what a noise them 'are gentlemen does make—they talk so loud there 'ant no such thing as seeing what is said—I wonder they don't make these here boxes more bigger, for I declare I'm so scrouged I'm all in a—Fanny, did you bring the rumperella for fear it should rain as we goes home?”

      “Hush, Mother,” said a plump-faced little girl, who sat along side of her—“don't talk so loud, or otherwise every body will hear you instead of the Performers, and that would be quite preposterous.”

      “Don't call me posterous Miss; because you have been to school, and learnt some edification, you thinks you are to do as you please with me.”

      1 Mrs. G——den, a dashing Cyprian of the first order, well

      known in the House, a fine, well-made woman, always ready

      for a lark, and generally well togged.

      This interesting conversation was interrupted by loud vociferations of Bravo, Bravo, from all parts of the House, as the drop-scene fell upon the conclusion of the second act. The clapping of hands, the whistling and noise that ensued for a few minutes, appeared to astonish Tallyho. “I don't much like my seat,” said Dashall. “No,” said Sparkle, “I did not much expect you would remain long—you are a mighty ambitious sort of fellow, and I perceive you have a desire to be exalted.”

      “I confess the situation, is too confined,” replied Tom—“come, it is excessively warm here, let us take a turn and catch a little air.”

      The House was crowded in every part; for the announcement of a new Tragedy from the pen of Lord Byron, particularly under the circumstances of its introduction to the Stage, against the expressed inclination of its Author, the

      1 At an early hour on the evening this Tragedy was first

      pro-duced at Drury Lane, Hand-bills were plentifully

      distributed through the Theatre, of which the following is a

      copy:

      “The public are respectfully informed, that the

      representation of Lord Byron's Tragedy, The Doge of Venice,

      this evening, takes place in defiance of the injunction from

      the Lord Chancellor, which