Your cobbler 's drunk one day in three

And that 's not right;
Whilst I most royally drunk may be

From morn till night.
Then if these the joys

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
Must be an ass.

(A cry of Coachee, Coachee,' by several voices without.) Rum. What means that direful clatter ?—Ha! approach!

Enter Jem FLOGGEM.

go it!

What art thou ?

Flog. Driver of a hackney-coach.
Rum. What number driv'st thou ?
Flog.

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-
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,
Just at the end of Lisle Street, Leicester Square
Rascallo callid me. Big with rage and malice,
Frowning, he bade me drive him to the palace;
When, stepping in, this paper, thee to save meant,
Fell from his pocket smack upon the pavement.
I hid it in the boot; then set him down.
'Your fare? said he ; said I, 'Tis half-a-crown.'
To pay so much the spooney was not willing:
'Jarvey,' said he, 'I'll give thee but a shilling.'-
You won't ? says I; says he, 'Most surely not.'
Thinks I, Then I 'll expose your honour's plot.'

Rum. Right loyal Coachee! (Aside.) How shall I requite him?

I'll go the cheapest way to work: I'll knight him.-
Thy name?

Floc. Jem Floggem.
Rum. (drawing his sword) Kneel.
Flog.

Don't yo 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.)
Flog.

Ha! I'm summon'd straight-
The grave, the Bow Street-Death, the magistrate.
Cut-cut behind--my fare 's-gee-up-jehu-
Coach to the city-hired-drive on-adieu! (Dies.)

Rum. There fied the spirit of a saucy whip!
Thus be each Jarvey taken on the hip.
Now for the traitors. Let's peruse their scheme :
It answers point for point our royal dream!
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.

(RUMFUSKIN goes off hastily with long strides. RASCALLO,

dagger in hand, enters, and instantly follows him in the

same way, saying) Rasc.

Hang him, there he goes!

[Erit.

Enter CONSCIENZO and GRISKINDA.
Cons. Here, then, we are. But, ah! what deed to do!
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 call's-foot jelly.
GRISK.

I'm no bragger,
But what I say I'll do. Give me the dagger.
Cons. Hold up, my heart !- 'tis done- Rumfuskin dies !

(Approaches the throne.) 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,
In hopes I'd make thee second in command;
Alone thou left'st me to commit the crime.--Oh!
Thou faithless second, thou would'st now be primo.

GRISK. And shall be, too.
Cons.

And will.
Rasc.

He shan't, that's flat.

GBisk. Here's to decide it, then ; take this ! (Stabs RASCALLO.)

SCRUBINDA rushes on and stabs GRISKINDA.
SCRUB.

Take that!
GRISK. And here ! (Stabs SCRUBINDA.)
Rasc.

And there! (Stabs Conscienzo.)
Cons.

I scarcely care a button For living now, for I'm as dead as mutton.

(They each draw a chuir, and fall into it.) Rasc. (looking at his wound.) My wound is mortal. SCRUB. (doing the same.)

So is mine. Coxs.

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.
Coxs. Why, there he lies. (Pointing to SIR JEMNY.)
Rasc.

Pooh! nonsense ! no such thing :
Tis Jem the coachman.
Coxs.

0, most fatal blunder!
I took him for the King.
Rasc.

I shouldn't wonder.

go.

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
Here will we die.
SENT.

We die ! (Aside.) O, curse his we's ! (To him.) Your Kingship will die solus if you please.

Run. Thou know'st when we say “we,' we mean but I.
SENT. Oh, ho! if that's the case, why then we'll die.
Rum. My good Lord Chancellor, ere we die, take note,
Thou must oblige us.
Sent.

How, sire ?
Rum.

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 !

ÁLL, 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 !
Sent. 'Tis the Archbishop, sire, of Canterbury.
Rum. We think thou’rt wrong: but, prythee, send about it ;

And tell his Grace we cannot die without it.
We die—we cannot wait—so send it after.

Flog. 'Tis well I'm dead, or I should die of laughter.
Run. (angrily.) You have no right to speak, because you know
We killed you upwards of an hour ago.

Flog. 'Tis true you killed me, sire; but that's no rule.
Rum. No more, I say. Dost take us for a fool ?
(To Senr.) My lord, what does the Act of Parliament say?
Sent. (takes an Act of Parliament from his pocket.) "I'is 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. (Aside.) I'll have another poke at him to-morrow.

Run. Rascallo, take Scrubinda's lily hand-
You shall be bound in Hymen's saffron band;
Her dower shall be-a half a yard of land.
For Conscienzo and his lovely wife,
They both shall board and lodge with us for life.
Sir Jemmy, for the favours in thy heart meant,
We make thee-Minister for our Home Department.

Cons. Henceforth let mortals, for each other's use meant,
Not cut each other's throats for mere amusement.

MORAL.
GRISKINDA comes forward.
When worth and honour radiate the heart,
And each, refulgent, owns the worthier part,
Through azure clouds the coruscations rise,
And Reason's mirror gilds the opening skies.
So shall the soul assert her bright command,
And Peace, with Virtue joined, pervade this happy land.

THE END.

THE SAILOR.

We

verse.

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. 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 mas. querade 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

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.