Excerpt
Chorus of Female Spectators. We shall see better here than what we did last Droring-Room. Law, 'ow it did come down, too, pouring the 'ole day. I was that sorry for the poor 'orses!... Oh, that one was nice, Marire! Did you see 'er train?—all flame-coloured satting—lovely! Ain't them flowers beautiful? Oh, Liza, 'ere's a pore skinny-lookin' thing coming next—look at 'er pore dear arms, all bare! But dressed 'andsome enough.... That's a Gineral in there, see? He's 'olding his cocked 'at on his knee to save the feathers—him and her have been 'aving words, apparently ... Oh, I do like this one. I s'pose that's her Mother with her—well, yes, o' course it may be her Aunt?
EXCHANGE NO ROBBERY.A Sardonic Loafer. 'Ullo, 'ere's a 'aughty one! layin' back and puttin' up 'er glorses! Know us agen, Mum, won't you? You may well look—you ain't seen so much in yer ole life as what you're seein' to-day, I'll lay! Ah, you ought to feel honoured, too, all of us comin' out to look at yer. Drored 'er blind down, this one 'as, yer see—knew she wasn't wuth looking at!
[A carriage passes; the footman on the box is adorned by an enormous nosegay, over which he can just see.
First Comic Cockney. Ow, I s'y—you 'ave come out in bloom, Johnny!
Second C. C. Ah, they've bin forcin' 'im under glorse, they'ave! 'Is Missis 'll never find 'im under all them flowers. Ow, 'e smoiled at me through the brornches!
[Another carriage passes, the coachman and footmen of which are undecorated.
First C. C. Shime!—they might ha' stood yer a penny bunch o' voilets between yer, that they might!
The Sardonic L. 'Ere 's a swell turn-out and no mistake—with a couple o' bloomin' beadles standin' be'ind! There's a full-fed 'un inside of it too,—look at the dimonds all over 'er bloomin' old nut. My eye! (The elderly dowager inside produces a cut-glass scent-bottle of goodly size.) Ah, she's got a drop o' the right sort in there—see her sniffin at it—it won't take 'er long to mop up that little lot!
Jeames (behind the carriage, to Chawles). Our old geeser's perdoocin' the custimary amount o' sensation, eh, Chawley?
Chawles (under notice). Well, thank 'Eving, I shan't have to share the responsibility of her much longer!
'Arriet (to Arry). I wonder they don't get tired o' being stared at like they are.
'Arry. Bless your 'art—they don't mind—they like it. They'll go 'ome and s'y (in falsetto) "Ow, Pa, all the bloomin' crowd kep' on a lookin' at us through the winder—it was proime!"
'Arriet (giggling admiringly). 'Ow do you know the w'y they tork?
'Arry (superior). Why, they don't tork partickler different from what you and me tork—do they?
First Mechanic. See all them old blokes in red with the rum 'ats, Bill? They're Beefeaters goin' to the Pallis, they are.
Second M. What do they do when they git there?
First M. Do? oh, mind the bloomin' stair-case, and chuck out them as don't beyave themselves.
A Restless Lady (to her husband). Harry, I don't like this place at all. I'm sure we could see better somewhere else....