Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 100, April 18, 1891

Excerpt

WHAT IT MAY COME TO!

SCENE—The Central Criminal Court. The usual Company assembled, and the place wearing its customary aspect. "Standing room only" everywhere, except in the Jury Box, which is empty. Prisoner at the Bar.

Judge. This is most annoying! Owing to the refusal of the Jury to serve, the time of the Bar, the Bench, and, I may even add, the prisoner, is wasted! I really don't know what to do! Mr. TWENTYBOB, I think you appear for the accused?

Counsel for the Defence. Yes, my Lord.

Judge (with some hesitation). Well, I do not for a moment presume to dictate to you, but it certainly would get us out of a serious difficulty if your client pleaded guilty. I suppose you have carefully considered his case, and think it advisable that he should not withdraw his plea?

Counsel for the Defence. No, my Lord, I certainly cannot advise him to throw up his defence. It is a serious—a deeply serious—matter for him. I do not anticipate any difficulty in establishing his innocence before an intelligent jury.

Judge. But we can't get a jury—intelligent or otherwise.

Counsel for the Defence. If no evidence is offered, my client should be discharged.

Counsel for the Prosecution. I beg pardon, but I must set my friend right. Evidence is offered in support of the charge, my Lord.

Judge. Yes; but there is no properly constituted body to receive and decide upon its credibility. I am glad that the Grand Jury (to whom I had the privilege of addressing a few observations upon our unfortunate position) have ignored a larger number of bills than usual; still the present case is before the Court, and I must dispose of it. Can you assist us in any way, Mr. PERPLEBAGGE?

Counsel for the Prosecution (smiling). I am afraid not, my Lord.

Judge. Well, I suppose I have no alternative but to order the Prisoner to be taken back to—

Prisoner. To the place I was in last night? No, thankee!—not me! Look here, gemmen all, we knows one another, don't we? Well, just to oblige you—as Darmoor ain't 'alf bad in the summer, and as in course I did do it—I plead guilty!

Judge (with a sigh of relief). Prisoner at the Bar, we are infinitely beholden to you! [Passes regulation sentence with grateful courtesy.

(A Fragment in Hexameters, NOT by George Meredith.)

Heigh me! brazen of front, thou glutton for Ground Game, how can one,

Servant here to thy mandates heed thee among the Tories?

Surely thy mission is fudge, oh, DAWNAY, Conservative Colonel!

I, Sir, hither I fared on account of the cant-armed Sportsmen,

Pledged to the combat; they unto me have in no wise a harm done,

Never have they, of a truth, come putting my Hares and my Rabbits,

Never in deep-soiled Hampshire, the nurser of heroes and H-RC-RTS,

Ravaged; but if I found them among my trampled Carnations,

Hares or Rabbits, or gun-bearing Tories, by Jingo, I'd pot 'em!

O hugely shameless! Thee shall we follow to do an injustice

Unto the farmers, seeing the Hares a-munching their crops up?

I do not sit at the feet of the blatant Bordesley Gamaliel,

Or of the unregenerate Agricultural Minister....