After establishing a lapse of four years between the acts, the author takes high ground;—­we are presented with the summit of Primrose-hill, St. Paul’s in the distance, and a gentleman with black clothes, and literary habits, reading in the foreground.  This turns out to be “The Laird Lawson,” Barbara’s favoured lover and benevolent duellist.  Though on the top of Cockney Mount, he is suffering under a deep depression of spirits; for he has never seen Miss Allen during four years, come next Fairlop-fair.  Having heard this, the audience is, of course, quite prepared for that lady’s appearance; and, sure enough, on she comes, accounting for her presence with great adroitness:—­having left the city to go to Holloway, she is taking a short cut over Primrose-hill.  The lovers go through the mode of recognition never departed from at minor theatres, with the most frantic energy, and have nearly hugged themselves out of breath, when the executioner papa interrupts the blissful scene, without so much as saying how he got there; but “finishers” are mysterious beings. Barabbas denounces the laird; and when his consent is asked for the hand of Miss Barbara, tells the lover “he will see him hanged first!”

The moon, a dark stage, and Jack Ketch in the character of a foot-pad, now add to the romance of the drama.  Not to leave anything unexplained, the hero declares, that he has cut the walk of life he formerly trod in the rope ditto, and has been induced to take to the road solely by Fate, brandy and (not salt, but) Barbara! By some extraordinary accident, every character in the piece, with two exceptions, have occasion to tread this scene—­“Holloway and heath near the village of Holloway” (painted from the best authorities), just exactly in time to be robbed by Ketch; who shows himself a perfect master of his business, and a credit to his instructor; for Gipsy George rewards Jack for saving him from hanging, by showing his friend the shortest way to the gallows.

In the following scene, the plot breaks out in a fresh place.  The man with the “gash,” and Gipsy George are together, going over some youthful reminiscences.  It seems that once upon a time there were six pirates; four were those pendents from the gibbet at Execution-Dock one hears so much about at the commencement; the fifth is the speaker, Gipsy George; and “you,” exclaims that person, striking an attitude, and addressing Sir Gregory, “make up the half-dozen!” They all formerly did business in a ship called the “Morning Star,” and whenever the ex-pirate number five is in pecuniary distress, he bawls out into the ear of ci-devant pirate number six, the words “Morning Star!” and a purse of hush-money is forked out in a trice.  In this manner Gipsy George accumulates, by the end of the piece, a large property; for six or eight purses, all ready filled for each occasion, thus pass into his pockets.