Reciter Number Two (giving his own private version of “The Ticket of Leave Man.") Fourpence ’ap’ny, Gentlemen, is not a very ’arty nor corjial recognition of my talent; ’owever, I will now perceed with the Drarmer.  The Curtain rises upon the Second Hact.  Hover three years ’ave elapsed since Robert Brierley—­(&c.) We are in May Hedwardses lodgings.  She is torkin to ’er goldfinch.  If you boys don’t give over larkin’ and stand back, you’ll get a cuff on some of your ’eds.  “Goldie,” she sez, “I’ve ’ad a letter from ’Im this morning!” And the bird puts his little ’ed a one side, and a’most seems as if he compre’ended ‘er meanin’! Mrs. Willoughby is ’eard outside sayin’, “May I come in?” I will now hendeavour to give you a imitation of Mrs. Willoughby.

    [He cocks his hat rather more on one side, to indicate
    feminine garrulity, and continues.

Anti-Parnellite Irishman (warmly).  Is it kape to the point?  Oi till that white-feeced an’ black-hearrted loiar, TIM MURPHY, that if he interrups me wance more whoile o’im in possession o’ the chair, oi’ll step down an’ call ‘m to orrder by landin’ ’um a clump on the conk!

Reciter Number Three (who is working his way through a bloodcurdling poem, with a hat on the ground before him):—­

  And on came them maddened ‘orses, with their foiery, smokin’ breath;
  As were bearin’ the woman I lurved to a crule and ’orrible death!
      [Pathetically.
  ‘Ow could I save my darlin’ from layin’ a mangled ’eap
  On the grorss below where the buttercups blow, along of the innercent sheep!
  (Wildly.) I felt my brine was reeling—­I’adn’t a minnit to lose!
      [He strains forward, in agony.
  With a stifled prayer, and a gasp for air, I—­

    [Here he suddenly becomes aware of an overlooked penny
    on the grass, and replaces it carefully in the hat before
    proceeding.

First Bystander (discussing Physical Courage with a friend).  No, I never ’ad no pluck.  I don’t see the use of it myself—­on’y gits you into rows’. (Candidly.) I’m a blanky coward, I am.

His Friend (admiringly).  Give us yer ’and.  Yer can’t be a blankier coward than me!

The A.P. (with just pride).  Oi’ve been wan o’ the biggest libertines in this or anny other city in me toime—­there’s no blagardhism oi’d have put beyant me—­but oi till ye this.  If PARNELL was to come up to me here, now, and ask me to sheek um by the hand, oi’d say, “Shtand back, ye d——­d scoundthrel!” Ah, oi would that!