But thine, my mighty Philomel,— MY KETTLE! Peace, home, content, tranquillity, Own its endearing melody, MY KETTLE! Others, of Bacchanalian life, MY KETTLE! Those filled by you a balm bestow, MY KETTLE! Then is thine inspiration seen, My Helicon and Hippocrene,― MY KETTLE! For these, and more than I've related, To thee this verse be dedicated, MY KETTLE! IMPERTINENT CURIOSITY.-POOLE. TANKARD, BILLY, OLDBUTTON AND PRY. Tan. Well, Billy, only rid me of this intolerable Paul, and your wages shall mend. Here has this Mr. Pry, although he has an establishment of his own in the town, been living and sleeping here these six days! But I'm determined to get rid of him; and do you instantly go, Billy, and affront him; do anything with him, so as you make him turn his back upon the house. Eh, here's a coach driven up; it is surely Mr. Oldbutton; run, Billy, run. (Exit Billy.) Roaring times, these. (Billy enters, showing in Mr. Oldbutton.) Welcome, sir, most welcome to the Golden Chariot. Mr. Oldbutton. Landlord, I have some letters to answer; which is my apartment? Tan. Why, sir-confound that Paul Pry, he has the gentleman's room, and I can't get him out of it—why, sir, I did not expect you for some hours yet; if you'll have the kindness to step into this apartment for a few minutes, your own room shall be properly arranged. I really beg ten thousand Mr. Old. No compliments, Mr. Landlord, and when you speak to me in future, keep yourself upright; I hate tradesmen with backs of whalebone. Tan. Why, civility, Mr. Oldbutton— Mr. Old. Is this the room? (Tankard bows. Exit Oldbutton.) Tan. Now such a customer would deeply offend a man, if he had not the ultimate satisfaction of making out his bill. (Enter Billy.) Oh, you've just come in time; ask no questions; there's Mr. Pry's room; if you get him out of the house, I'll raise your wages; if you do not, you shall go yourself; now you know the terms. (Exit.) Bill. Then it is either you or myself, Mr. Pry; so here goes. (Enter Paul Pry.) Paul Pry. Hope I don't intrude; I say, Billy, who is that old gentleman, who just came in? Bill. Old gentleman ?-why, there's nobody come in. Bill. You saw him!-why, how could you see him, when there's no window in the room? Paul. I always guard against such an accident, and carry a gimblet with me. (Producing one.) Nothing like making a little hole in the wainscot. Bill. Why, surely you haven't— Paul. It has been a fixed principle of my life. Billy, never to take a lodging or a house with a brick wall to it. I say, me, who is he? tell Bill. (Aside.) Well, I'll tell him something. Why, if you must know, I think he's an army lieutenant, on half pay. Paul. An army lieutenant! half pay! ah! that will never afford ribbons and white feathers. Bill. Now, Mr. Pry, my master desires me to say, he can't accommodate you any longer; your apartment is wanted, and really, Mr. Pry, you can't think how much you'll oblige me by going. Paul. To be sure, Billy, I wouldn't wish to intrude for the world your master's doing a good deal of business in this house what did he give for the good will of it? Tan. (Without.) Billy! Bill. There, now, I'm called-and I 've to make ready the room for the Freemasons, that meet to-night-they that wouldn't admit you into their society. Paul. Yes, I know; they thought I should intrude. Tan. (Without.) Billy! Bill. Now you must go-good bye, Mr. Pry-I'm called. Paul. Oh, good bye-good morning. (Exit.) Bill. He's gone! I'm coming, sir. (Exit.) Re-enter Paul Pry.) Paul. An army lieutenant! Who can it be? I shouldn't wonder if it's Mrs. Thomas' husband; who, she says, was killed in India! If it should be, it will break off her flirting with Mr. Cinnamon, the grocer; there's pretty doings in that quarter, for I caught the rheumatism watching them in a frosty night last winter! An army lieutenant! Mr. Thomas has a daughter; I'll just peep through the key-hole, and see if there's a family likeness between them. (Goes to the door and peeps.) Bless me! why, there certainly is something about the nose-oh! he 's writing. (The door is suddenly opened by Oldbutton, who discovers Paul.) Paul. I hope I don't intrude-I was trying to find my apartment. Mr. Old. Was it necessary to look through the key-hole for it, sir? Paul. I'm rather short-sighted, sir; sad affliction ! my poor mother was short-sighted, sir; in fact, it's a family failing; a 1 the Prys are obliged to look close. Mr. Old. Whilst I sympathize with your distresses, sir, I hope to be exempt from the impertinence which you may attach to them. Paul. Would not intrude for the world, sir What may be your opinion, sir, of the present state of the kingdom? How do you like peace? It must press hard upon you gentlemen of the army; a lieutenant's half pay now is but little, to make both ends meet. Mr. Old. Sir! Paul. Especially when a man's benevolent to his poor relations. Now, sir, perhaps you'll allow something out of your five-and-six-pence a day, to your mother or maiden sister. Be tween you me, I must tell you what I have learnt here. Mr. Old. Between you and me, sir, I must tell you what I have learnt in India. Paul. What, have you been in India? Wouldn't intrude an observation for the world; but I thought you had a yel lowish look; something of an orange-peeling countenance. You've been in India? Although I 'm a single man, I wouldn't ask an improper question; but is it true that the blacks employ no tailors nor milliners? If not, what do they do to keep off the flies? Mr. Old. That is what I was about to inform you; they carry canes. Now, sir, five minutes' conversation with you has fully convinced me that there are flies in England as well as in India; and that a man may be as impertinently inquisitive at Dover, as at Bengal. All I have to add is--I carry a cane. Paul. In such a case, I'm the last to intrude. I've only one question to ask-Is your name Thomas? whether you have a wife? how old she is? and where were you married? Mr. Old. Well, sir, a man may sometimes play with a puppy, as well as kick him; and, if it will afford you any satisfaction, learn my name is Thomas. Paul. Oh! poor Mr. Cinnamon! This is going to India! Mr. T., I'm afraid you'll find that somebody here has intruded in your place-for between you me-(Oldbutton surveys him contemptuously, and whilst Paul is talking, Oldbutton stalks off. Paul, on looking round,) Well, it isn't that I interfere much in people's concerns; if I did, how unhappy I could make that man. This Freemason's sign puzzles me; they wouldn't make me a member; but I have slept six nights in the next room to them; and, thanks to my gimblet, I know the business. There was Mr. Smith, who was only in the Gazette last week, taking his brandy and water; he can't afford that, I know. Then there was Mr. Hodgkins, who makes his poor wife and children live upon baked potatoes six days out of the week, (for I know the shop where they are cooked,) calling, like a lord, for a Welsh rarebit; I only wish his creditors could see him; but I don't trouble my head with these matters; if I did―eh! Why there is one of the young Jones, going again to Mr. Notick, the pawnbroker's; that's the third time this week; well, I've just time enough to run to Notick's, and see what he 's brought, before I go to enquire at the post office, who in the town has letters. (Exit.) PARODY.*INGOLDSBY LEGENDS. Nor a sous had he got,—not a guinea or note, *On Wolfe's celebrated lines on the death of Sir John Moore, com mencing: "Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note," &o. |