Come all you Britons high and low,And banish grief and care,There’s a proclamation insued out,“You don’t lodge here!”CHORUS.They ran away without delay,To the Queen to banish fear,But she said,—my chaps, its very fine,But you don’t lodge here.There was an Orange merchant.As you shall understand,So she started him to Hannover,To cumber up the land.The next it was a soldier,And he wore scarlet clothes,So the queen took up the poker,And hit him on the nose.The next was Bobby Orange Peel,She thought he was a flat,In his right hand was a truncheon,And in his left a trap.The next was Frank from Wiltshire,She put him to the rout,She wopp’d him all round Windsor park,And cured him of the gout.The next it was a leg of Lamb,He thought to make things right,Says the Queen, my lord, it’s very fine,But you don’t lodge here to-night.The next man was from Bedford,A little chap that’s never still,You don’t lodge here to-night says she,’Till you have burnt the Poor Law Bill.There Springed a little man from Cambridge,Rice was his name you know,So she made him dance and reel about,And jump Jim Crow.The next was Mr. Broomstick,With him she play’d a rig,She wopped him with the Poor Law Bill,And choked him with his wig.Then up came Dan O’Connel,Saying I’ll befriend the people,With a great Shillalah in his hand,As big as Salsbury steeple.Old women three hundred and ninety five,To petition her did begin,Crying,—Please your gracious Majesty,Take the duty off the gin.Says the Queen to do old women good,I’ll strive with great delight,Its all right Mrs Ferguson,But, you don’t lodge here to-night.Then toddled up old Joey Hume,Saying sufferings I have had many,The villains knock’d me all the way,From Brentford to Kilkenny.Says the Queen, I am going to Brighton,So quiet let me be,For if you come to trouble me,I’ll drown you in the sea.And when I open Parliament,Then you’ll find I’ll do enough,I’ll take the duty off the tea,Tobacco, gin, and snuff.I will make some alterations,I’ll gain the people’s right,I will have a radical parliament,Or, they don’t lodge here to-night.I must tell both wigs and tories,Their tricks I do not fear,Their sayings all are very fine,But they don’t lodge here.About the wigs and tories,There has been a pretty bother,I think I’ll give the devil one,To run away with the other
Come all you Britons high and low,And banish grief and care,There’s a proclamation insued out,“You don’t lodge here!”CHORUS.They ran away without delay,To the Queen to banish fear,But she said,—my chaps, its very fine,But you don’t lodge here.There was an Orange merchant.As you shall understand,So she started him to Hannover,To cumber up the land.The next it was a soldier,And he wore scarlet clothes,So the queen took up the poker,And hit him on the nose.The next was Bobby Orange Peel,She thought he was a flat,In his right hand was a truncheon,And in his left a trap.The next was Frank from Wiltshire,She put him to the rout,She wopp’d him all round Windsor park,And cured him of the gout.The next it was a leg of Lamb,He thought to make things right,Says the Queen, my lord, it’s very fine,But you don’t lodge here to-night.The next man was from Bedford,A little chap that’s never still,You don’t lodge here to-night says she,’Till you have burnt the Poor Law Bill.There Springed a little man from Cambridge,Rice was his name you know,So she made him dance and reel about,And jump Jim Crow.The next was Mr. Broomstick,With him she play’d a rig,She wopped him with the Poor Law Bill,And choked him with his wig.Then up came Dan O’Connel,Saying I’ll befriend the people,With a great Shillalah in his hand,As big as Salsbury steeple.Old women three hundred and ninety five,To petition her did begin,Crying,—Please your gracious Majesty,Take the duty off the gin.Says the Queen to do old women good,I’ll strive with great delight,Its all right Mrs Ferguson,But, you don’t lodge here to-night.Then toddled up old Joey Hume,Saying sufferings I have had many,The villains knock’d me all the way,From Brentford to Kilkenny.Says the Queen, I am going to Brighton,So quiet let me be,For if you come to trouble me,I’ll drown you in the sea.And when I open Parliament,Then you’ll find I’ll do enough,I’ll take the duty off the tea,Tobacco, gin, and snuff.I will make some alterations,I’ll gain the people’s right,I will have a radical parliament,Or, they don’t lodge here to-night.I must tell both wigs and tories,Their tricks I do not fear,Their sayings all are very fine,But they don’t lodge here.About the wigs and tories,There has been a pretty bother,I think I’ll give the devil one,To run away with the other
Come all you Britons high and low,And banish grief and care,There’s a proclamation insued out,“You don’t lodge here!”
Come all you Britons high and low,
And banish grief and care,
There’s a proclamation insued out,
“You don’t lodge here!”
CHORUS.
CHORUS.
They ran away without delay,To the Queen to banish fear,But she said,—my chaps, its very fine,But you don’t lodge here.
They ran away without delay,
To the Queen to banish fear,
But she said,—my chaps, its very fine,
But you don’t lodge here.
There was an Orange merchant.As you shall understand,So she started him to Hannover,To cumber up the land.
There was an Orange merchant.
As you shall understand,
So she started him to Hannover,
To cumber up the land.
The next it was a soldier,And he wore scarlet clothes,So the queen took up the poker,And hit him on the nose.
The next it was a soldier,
And he wore scarlet clothes,
So the queen took up the poker,
And hit him on the nose.
The next was Bobby Orange Peel,She thought he was a flat,In his right hand was a truncheon,And in his left a trap.
The next was Bobby Orange Peel,
She thought he was a flat,
In his right hand was a truncheon,
And in his left a trap.
The next was Frank from Wiltshire,She put him to the rout,She wopp’d him all round Windsor park,And cured him of the gout.
The next was Frank from Wiltshire,
She put him to the rout,
She wopp’d him all round Windsor park,
And cured him of the gout.
The next it was a leg of Lamb,He thought to make things right,Says the Queen, my lord, it’s very fine,But you don’t lodge here to-night.
The next it was a leg of Lamb,
He thought to make things right,
Says the Queen, my lord, it’s very fine,
But you don’t lodge here to-night.
The next man was from Bedford,A little chap that’s never still,You don’t lodge here to-night says she,’Till you have burnt the Poor Law Bill.
The next man was from Bedford,
A little chap that’s never still,
You don’t lodge here to-night says she,
’Till you have burnt the Poor Law Bill.
There Springed a little man from Cambridge,Rice was his name you know,So she made him dance and reel about,And jump Jim Crow.
There Springed a little man from Cambridge,
Rice was his name you know,
So she made him dance and reel about,
And jump Jim Crow.
The next was Mr. Broomstick,With him she play’d a rig,She wopped him with the Poor Law Bill,And choked him with his wig.
The next was Mr. Broomstick,
With him she play’d a rig,
She wopped him with the Poor Law Bill,
And choked him with his wig.
Then up came Dan O’Connel,Saying I’ll befriend the people,With a great Shillalah in his hand,As big as Salsbury steeple.
Then up came Dan O’Connel,
Saying I’ll befriend the people,
With a great Shillalah in his hand,
As big as Salsbury steeple.
Old women three hundred and ninety five,To petition her did begin,Crying,—Please your gracious Majesty,Take the duty off the gin.
Old women three hundred and ninety five,
To petition her did begin,
Crying,—Please your gracious Majesty,
Take the duty off the gin.
Says the Queen to do old women good,I’ll strive with great delight,Its all right Mrs Ferguson,But, you don’t lodge here to-night.
Says the Queen to do old women good,
I’ll strive with great delight,
Its all right Mrs Ferguson,
But, you don’t lodge here to-night.
Then toddled up old Joey Hume,Saying sufferings I have had many,The villains knock’d me all the way,From Brentford to Kilkenny.
Then toddled up old Joey Hume,
Saying sufferings I have had many,
The villains knock’d me all the way,
From Brentford to Kilkenny.
Says the Queen, I am going to Brighton,So quiet let me be,For if you come to trouble me,I’ll drown you in the sea.
Says the Queen, I am going to Brighton,
So quiet let me be,
For if you come to trouble me,
I’ll drown you in the sea.
And when I open Parliament,Then you’ll find I’ll do enough,I’ll take the duty off the tea,Tobacco, gin, and snuff.
And when I open Parliament,
Then you’ll find I’ll do enough,
I’ll take the duty off the tea,
Tobacco, gin, and snuff.
I will make some alterations,I’ll gain the people’s right,I will have a radical parliament,Or, they don’t lodge here to-night.
I will make some alterations,
I’ll gain the people’s right,
I will have a radical parliament,
Or, they don’t lodge here to-night.
I must tell both wigs and tories,Their tricks I do not fear,Their sayings all are very fine,But they don’t lodge here.
I must tell both wigs and tories,
Their tricks I do not fear,
Their sayings all are very fine,
But they don’t lodge here.
About the wigs and tories,There has been a pretty bother,I think I’ll give the devil one,To run away with the other
About the wigs and tories,
There has been a pretty bother,
I think I’ll give the devil one,
To run away with the other
Birt, Printer, 39, Great St. Anderw Street, Seven Dials. Printing of every description done cheap.
Birth of a Prince of Wales.
“The Queen was safely delivered of a Prince this morning at 48 minutes past 10 o’clock.“Her Majesty and the Infant Prince are perfectly well.“James Clark, M.D.,“Charles Locock, M.D.,“Robert Ferguson, M.D.,“Richard Blagden.“Buckingham Palace, Tuesday, November 9, 1841,“Half-past 11 o’clock, a.m.”
“The Queen was safely delivered of a Prince this morning at 48 minutes past 10 o’clock.
“Her Majesty and the Infant Prince are perfectly well.
“James Clark, M.D.,
“Charles Locock, M.D.,
“Robert Ferguson, M.D.,
“Richard Blagden.
“Buckingham Palace, Tuesday, November 9, 1841,
“Half-past 11 o’clock, a.m.”
Dr. Locock and Prince Albert, with the nurse, were the only persons in the Queen’s chamber, situated in the north-west angle of the palace. The Duchess of Kent and the Lady in Waiting were in an apartment immediately adjoining, and close to where Sir James Clark and his medical colleagues were assembled. The Ministers, Privy Councillors, and Great Officers of State occupied one of the state rooms. It has been stated that these all wore the Windsor uniform; such is not the fact; not one of them did so. The Duke of Wellington wore the dress of Constable of the Tower, Earl Jersey the official dress of Master of the Horse, the Earl of Liverpool, Earl Delawarr, and the Marquis of Exeter wore their household uniforms, and the Ministers their official dresses.
The birth took place at 12 minutes to 11 o’clock, and was duly announced to the great functionaries of the kingdom assembled by Sir James Clark, and they were soon afterwards gratified with a sight of the royal infant.
The Archbishop of Canterbury, Lord Wharncliffe, Lord President of the Council, and Lord Stanley, Secretary of State for the Colonies, were too late, arriving at the palace a few minutes after the birth had taken place. It is an error in some of the accounts which have been published which stated that the Archbishop of Canterbury was present at the birth. The Bishop of London was the only prelate present.
The following is the official announcement from theLondon Gazette Extraordinary, published early in the afternoon:—
“Buckingham Palace, Nov. 9, 1841.“This morning, at twelve minutes before eleven, the Queen was happily delivered of a Prince, his Royal Highness Prince Albert, her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent, several Lords of Her Majesty’s Most Honourable Privy Council, and the Ladies of Her Majesty’s Bed-chamber, being present.“The great and important news was immediately made known to the town by the firing of the Park and Tower guns; and the Privy Council being assembled as soon as possible thereupon, at the Council Chamber, Whitehall, it was ordered that a Form of Thanksgiving for the Queen’s safe delivery of a Prince be prepared by his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury, to be used in all churches and chapels throughout England, Wales, and the town of Berwick-upon-Tweed, on Sunday, the 14th of November, or the Sunday after the respective ministers shall receive the same.“Her Majesty and the Infant Prince are, God be praised, both doing well.”
“Buckingham Palace, Nov. 9, 1841.
“This morning, at twelve minutes before eleven, the Queen was happily delivered of a Prince, his Royal Highness Prince Albert, her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent, several Lords of Her Majesty’s Most Honourable Privy Council, and the Ladies of Her Majesty’s Bed-chamber, being present.
“The great and important news was immediately made known to the town by the firing of the Park and Tower guns; and the Privy Council being assembled as soon as possible thereupon, at the Council Chamber, Whitehall, it was ordered that a Form of Thanksgiving for the Queen’s safe delivery of a Prince be prepared by his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury, to be used in all churches and chapels throughout England, Wales, and the town of Berwick-upon-Tweed, on Sunday, the 14th of November, or the Sunday after the respective ministers shall receive the same.
“Her Majesty and the Infant Prince are, God be praised, both doing well.”
The auspicious event, although daily anticipated for the last fortnight, has come upon the country with a pleasurable sudden surprise.
Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent remained with the Queen throughout the day until six o’clock in the afternoon, when Her Royal Highness returned to Clarence House.
The nobility and gentry thronged during the afternoon to Buckingham Palace.
Tune—King and the Countryman.You’ve heard of Sailor Jack, no doubt,Who found our Queen Victoria out,Who ev’ry time ashore he went,On visiting the Queen was bent.Ri tooral, &c.Now Jack, who’d travell’d far away,Returned to port the other day—He left his messmates all behind,For he heard the Queen had been confin’d.Ri tooral, &c.‘Shiver my timbers! here’s a breezeShe’s got a young ’un now to please—So straight to London I must go,To see who’s got the craft in tow.’Ri tooral, &c.Now Jack he to the Palace came—He’d got no card, so he sent his name.‘Go back!’ says they, ‘she wont see you!’Says Jack—‘No, damme, if I do!’Ri tooral, &c.‘Stand back, you lubbers! Not see me,The old friend of Her Majesty?’He floored them all—’mid shout and din—And got where the Queenwas lying in.Ri tooral, &c.Each in amazement viewed the scene—Says he ‘I’m comed to see the Queen!’The Queen she threw the curtains back—Says she—‘What’s that my old friend Jack?’Ri tooral, &c.Jack turned his quid, and scratched his tail,When he saw the Queen looked rather pale—Says she, ‘Jack, don’t you be dejected—They say I’m as well as can be expected!’Ri tooral, &c.Says Jack, when he beheld the boy,‘Your Majesty, I wish you joy!Some day he’ll rule us in your stead,For damme, I likes his figure head!’Ri tooral, &c.The folks at Court enjoyed the scene,To see the sailor with the Queen,For he took the Prince upon his lap,And gave him lots of royal pap.Ri tooral, &c.Says Jack, ‘So long I’ve been to sea,That ev’ry fish is known to me—I’ve seen their heads, I’ve seen their tails,And now I’ve seen a Prince ofWales.’Ri tooral, &c.It was really quite a treat to seeJack dance the Prince upon his knee—But, finding what he was about,Heheld his Royal Highness out!Ri tooral, &c.The nurse his Royal Highness took,And gave to Jack a knowing look—And with the rest, to crown the scene,Jack took his caudle with the Queen!Ri tooral, &c.Then Jack he to his shipmates went,On fun and frolic still intent—Our standing toast shall be, he cries,‘God bless his little Royal eyes!’Ri tooral, &c.
Tune—King and the Countryman.
You’ve heard of Sailor Jack, no doubt,Who found our Queen Victoria out,Who ev’ry time ashore he went,On visiting the Queen was bent.Ri tooral, &c.Now Jack, who’d travell’d far away,Returned to port the other day—He left his messmates all behind,For he heard the Queen had been confin’d.Ri tooral, &c.‘Shiver my timbers! here’s a breezeShe’s got a young ’un now to please—So straight to London I must go,To see who’s got the craft in tow.’Ri tooral, &c.Now Jack he to the Palace came—He’d got no card, so he sent his name.‘Go back!’ says they, ‘she wont see you!’Says Jack—‘No, damme, if I do!’Ri tooral, &c.‘Stand back, you lubbers! Not see me,The old friend of Her Majesty?’He floored them all—’mid shout and din—And got where the Queenwas lying in.Ri tooral, &c.Each in amazement viewed the scene—Says he ‘I’m comed to see the Queen!’The Queen she threw the curtains back—Says she—‘What’s that my old friend Jack?’Ri tooral, &c.Jack turned his quid, and scratched his tail,When he saw the Queen looked rather pale—Says she, ‘Jack, don’t you be dejected—They say I’m as well as can be expected!’Ri tooral, &c.Says Jack, when he beheld the boy,‘Your Majesty, I wish you joy!Some day he’ll rule us in your stead,For damme, I likes his figure head!’Ri tooral, &c.The folks at Court enjoyed the scene,To see the sailor with the Queen,For he took the Prince upon his lap,And gave him lots of royal pap.Ri tooral, &c.Says Jack, ‘So long I’ve been to sea,That ev’ry fish is known to me—I’ve seen their heads, I’ve seen their tails,And now I’ve seen a Prince ofWales.’Ri tooral, &c.It was really quite a treat to seeJack dance the Prince upon his knee—But, finding what he was about,Heheld his Royal Highness out!Ri tooral, &c.The nurse his Royal Highness took,And gave to Jack a knowing look—And with the rest, to crown the scene,Jack took his caudle with the Queen!Ri tooral, &c.Then Jack he to his shipmates went,On fun and frolic still intent—Our standing toast shall be, he cries,‘God bless his little Royal eyes!’Ri tooral, &c.
You’ve heard of Sailor Jack, no doubt,Who found our Queen Victoria out,Who ev’ry time ashore he went,On visiting the Queen was bent.Ri tooral, &c.
You’ve heard of Sailor Jack, no doubt,
Who found our Queen Victoria out,
Who ev’ry time ashore he went,
On visiting the Queen was bent.
Ri tooral, &c.
Now Jack, who’d travell’d far away,Returned to port the other day—He left his messmates all behind,For he heard the Queen had been confin’d.Ri tooral, &c.
Now Jack, who’d travell’d far away,
Returned to port the other day—
He left his messmates all behind,
For he heard the Queen had been confin’d.
Ri tooral, &c.
‘Shiver my timbers! here’s a breezeShe’s got a young ’un now to please—So straight to London I must go,To see who’s got the craft in tow.’Ri tooral, &c.
‘Shiver my timbers! here’s a breeze
She’s got a young ’un now to please—
So straight to London I must go,
To see who’s got the craft in tow.’
Ri tooral, &c.
Now Jack he to the Palace came—He’d got no card, so he sent his name.‘Go back!’ says they, ‘she wont see you!’Says Jack—‘No, damme, if I do!’Ri tooral, &c.
Now Jack he to the Palace came—
He’d got no card, so he sent his name.
‘Go back!’ says they, ‘she wont see you!’
Says Jack—‘No, damme, if I do!’
Ri tooral, &c.
‘Stand back, you lubbers! Not see me,The old friend of Her Majesty?’He floored them all—’mid shout and din—And got where the Queenwas lying in.Ri tooral, &c.
‘Stand back, you lubbers! Not see me,
The old friend of Her Majesty?’
He floored them all—’mid shout and din—
And got where the Queenwas lying in.
Ri tooral, &c.
Each in amazement viewed the scene—Says he ‘I’m comed to see the Queen!’The Queen she threw the curtains back—Says she—‘What’s that my old friend Jack?’Ri tooral, &c.
Each in amazement viewed the scene—
Says he ‘I’m comed to see the Queen!’
The Queen she threw the curtains back—
Says she—‘What’s that my old friend Jack?’
Ri tooral, &c.
Jack turned his quid, and scratched his tail,When he saw the Queen looked rather pale—Says she, ‘Jack, don’t you be dejected—They say I’m as well as can be expected!’Ri tooral, &c.
Jack turned his quid, and scratched his tail,
When he saw the Queen looked rather pale—
Says she, ‘Jack, don’t you be dejected—
They say I’m as well as can be expected!’
Ri tooral, &c.
Says Jack, when he beheld the boy,‘Your Majesty, I wish you joy!Some day he’ll rule us in your stead,For damme, I likes his figure head!’Ri tooral, &c.
Says Jack, when he beheld the boy,
‘Your Majesty, I wish you joy!
Some day he’ll rule us in your stead,
For damme, I likes his figure head!’
Ri tooral, &c.
The folks at Court enjoyed the scene,To see the sailor with the Queen,For he took the Prince upon his lap,And gave him lots of royal pap.Ri tooral, &c.
The folks at Court enjoyed the scene,
To see the sailor with the Queen,
For he took the Prince upon his lap,
And gave him lots of royal pap.
Ri tooral, &c.
Says Jack, ‘So long I’ve been to sea,That ev’ry fish is known to me—I’ve seen their heads, I’ve seen their tails,And now I’ve seen a Prince ofWales.’Ri tooral, &c.
Says Jack, ‘So long I’ve been to sea,
That ev’ry fish is known to me—
I’ve seen their heads, I’ve seen their tails,
And now I’ve seen a Prince ofWales.’
Ri tooral, &c.
It was really quite a treat to seeJack dance the Prince upon his knee—But, finding what he was about,Heheld his Royal Highness out!Ri tooral, &c.
It was really quite a treat to see
Jack dance the Prince upon his knee—
But, finding what he was about,
Heheld his Royal Highness out!
Ri tooral, &c.
The nurse his Royal Highness took,And gave to Jack a knowing look—And with the rest, to crown the scene,Jack took his caudle with the Queen!Ri tooral, &c.
The nurse his Royal Highness took,
And gave to Jack a knowing look—
And with the rest, to crown the scene,
Jack took his caudle with the Queen!
Ri tooral, &c.
Then Jack he to his shipmates went,On fun and frolic still intent—Our standing toast shall be, he cries,‘God bless his little Royal eyes!’Ri tooral, &c.
Then Jack he to his shipmates went,
On fun and frolic still intent—
Our standing toast shall be, he cries,
‘God bless his little Royal eyes!’
Ri tooral, &c.
John Marks, Printer, 206, Brick Lane, Whitechapel.—Country Dealers and the Trade supplied.
Who was born on Tuesday, November 9th, 1841.
John Harkness, Printer, Church Street, Preston.
There’s a pretty fuss and bother both in country and town,Since we have got a present and an heir unto the crown,A little Prince of Wales so charming and so sly,And the ladies shout with wonder, what a pretty little boy.CHORUS.So let us be contented and sing with mirth and joy,Some things must be got ready for the pretty little boy.He must have a little musket, a trumpet, and a kite,A little penny rattle and silver sword so bright,A little cap and feather with scarlet coat so smart,And a pretty little hobby horse to ride about the park.Prince Albert he will often take the young Prince on his lap,And fondle him so loving while he stirs about the pap,He will pin on his flannel before he takes his nap,Then dress him out so stylish with his little clouts and cap.He must have a dandy suit to strut about the town.John Bull must rake together six or seven thousand pound,You’d laugh to see his daddy, at night he homeward runs,With some peppermint or lollipops, sweet cakes and sugar plums.He will want a little fiddle, and a little German flute,A little pair of stockings and a pretty pair of boots,With a handsome pair of spurs and a golden headed cane,And a stick of barley-sugar as long as Drury Lane.An old maid ran through the palace, which did the nobs surprise,Bawling out he’s got his daddy’s mouth his mammy’s nose and eyesHe will be as like his daddy as a frigate’s like a ship,If he had got mustachoes on his upper lip.Now to get these little nicities the taxes must be rose,For the little Prince of Wales wants so many suits of clothes,So they must tax the frying pan, the windows and the doors,The bedsteads and the tables, kitchen-pokers and the floors.Now all you pretty maidens, mind what the story says,And try to get a son in nine months and eleven days,That’s what folks call industry, so damsels young and fair,Be quickly rolling on the straw with a pretty little dear.
There’s a pretty fuss and bother both in country and town,Since we have got a present and an heir unto the crown,A little Prince of Wales so charming and so sly,And the ladies shout with wonder, what a pretty little boy.CHORUS.So let us be contented and sing with mirth and joy,Some things must be got ready for the pretty little boy.He must have a little musket, a trumpet, and a kite,A little penny rattle and silver sword so bright,A little cap and feather with scarlet coat so smart,And a pretty little hobby horse to ride about the park.Prince Albert he will often take the young Prince on his lap,And fondle him so loving while he stirs about the pap,He will pin on his flannel before he takes his nap,Then dress him out so stylish with his little clouts and cap.He must have a dandy suit to strut about the town.John Bull must rake together six or seven thousand pound,You’d laugh to see his daddy, at night he homeward runs,With some peppermint or lollipops, sweet cakes and sugar plums.He will want a little fiddle, and a little German flute,A little pair of stockings and a pretty pair of boots,With a handsome pair of spurs and a golden headed cane,And a stick of barley-sugar as long as Drury Lane.An old maid ran through the palace, which did the nobs surprise,Bawling out he’s got his daddy’s mouth his mammy’s nose and eyesHe will be as like his daddy as a frigate’s like a ship,If he had got mustachoes on his upper lip.Now to get these little nicities the taxes must be rose,For the little Prince of Wales wants so many suits of clothes,So they must tax the frying pan, the windows and the doors,The bedsteads and the tables, kitchen-pokers and the floors.Now all you pretty maidens, mind what the story says,And try to get a son in nine months and eleven days,That’s what folks call industry, so damsels young and fair,Be quickly rolling on the straw with a pretty little dear.
There’s a pretty fuss and bother both in country and town,Since we have got a present and an heir unto the crown,A little Prince of Wales so charming and so sly,And the ladies shout with wonder, what a pretty little boy.
There’s a pretty fuss and bother both in country and town,
Since we have got a present and an heir unto the crown,
A little Prince of Wales so charming and so sly,
And the ladies shout with wonder, what a pretty little boy.
CHORUS.
CHORUS.
So let us be contented and sing with mirth and joy,Some things must be got ready for the pretty little boy.
So let us be contented and sing with mirth and joy,
Some things must be got ready for the pretty little boy.
He must have a little musket, a trumpet, and a kite,A little penny rattle and silver sword so bright,A little cap and feather with scarlet coat so smart,And a pretty little hobby horse to ride about the park.
He must have a little musket, a trumpet, and a kite,
A little penny rattle and silver sword so bright,
A little cap and feather with scarlet coat so smart,
And a pretty little hobby horse to ride about the park.
Prince Albert he will often take the young Prince on his lap,And fondle him so loving while he stirs about the pap,He will pin on his flannel before he takes his nap,Then dress him out so stylish with his little clouts and cap.
Prince Albert he will often take the young Prince on his lap,
And fondle him so loving while he stirs about the pap,
He will pin on his flannel before he takes his nap,
Then dress him out so stylish with his little clouts and cap.
He must have a dandy suit to strut about the town.John Bull must rake together six or seven thousand pound,You’d laugh to see his daddy, at night he homeward runs,With some peppermint or lollipops, sweet cakes and sugar plums.
He must have a dandy suit to strut about the town.
John Bull must rake together six or seven thousand pound,
You’d laugh to see his daddy, at night he homeward runs,
With some peppermint or lollipops, sweet cakes and sugar plums.
He will want a little fiddle, and a little German flute,A little pair of stockings and a pretty pair of boots,With a handsome pair of spurs and a golden headed cane,And a stick of barley-sugar as long as Drury Lane.
He will want a little fiddle, and a little German flute,
A little pair of stockings and a pretty pair of boots,
With a handsome pair of spurs and a golden headed cane,
And a stick of barley-sugar as long as Drury Lane.
An old maid ran through the palace, which did the nobs surprise,Bawling out he’s got his daddy’s mouth his mammy’s nose and eyesHe will be as like his daddy as a frigate’s like a ship,If he had got mustachoes on his upper lip.
An old maid ran through the palace, which did the nobs surprise,
Bawling out he’s got his daddy’s mouth his mammy’s nose and eyes
He will be as like his daddy as a frigate’s like a ship,
If he had got mustachoes on his upper lip.
Now to get these little nicities the taxes must be rose,For the little Prince of Wales wants so many suits of clothes,So they must tax the frying pan, the windows and the doors,The bedsteads and the tables, kitchen-pokers and the floors.
Now to get these little nicities the taxes must be rose,
For the little Prince of Wales wants so many suits of clothes,
So they must tax the frying pan, the windows and the doors,
The bedsteads and the tables, kitchen-pokers and the floors.
Now all you pretty maidens, mind what the story says,And try to get a son in nine months and eleven days,That’s what folks call industry, so damsels young and fair,Be quickly rolling on the straw with a pretty little dear.
Now all you pretty maidens, mind what the story says,
And try to get a son in nine months and eleven days,
That’s what folks call industry, so damsels young and fair,
Be quickly rolling on the straw with a pretty little dear.
J. Harkness, Printer, 121 and 122 Church Street Office, North Road, Preston.
Come all you bold Britons, and list for awhile,And I will sing you a song that will make you to smile,A young Prince of Wales is come to town,The pride of all the nation, and heir to the crown,On the ninth of November, ’tis true ’pon my life,All Buckingham Palace was bustle and strife,The nurses stared at each other with joy,Bawling, our queen she has got a most beautiful boy.CHORUS.The bells they shall ring, and the music shall play,The ninth of November, remember the day.Through England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales,Shout long life to the Queen and the young Prince of Wales.It was on the ninth, about eleven in the morn,When the young Prince of Wales in the palace was born,Little Vic. she was there, as you all may be sure,Besides doctors, nurses, and gossips—a score,Says Vic. I declare he is the image of me,And there’s my dear Albert’s nose to a tee,One and all declared, when he grew up a man,He would drub all the foes that infested the land.Then Albert he stepped in with a face full of glee,And danced and he dandled his son on his knee,When all in an instant his countenance fell,And he cried “don’t I see a most terrible smell!”“Mine Cot,” says Al., “oh Lord what a mess!He has completely spoilt my new morning dress,Be quick go fetch me some napkins or towels,For my son, the young Prince, is relaxed in his bowels.”Of friends and relations there came such a crew,Of Lords, Dukes, and Ladies, and Germans a few,Each one bringing presents, the young Prince to please,They all were as brisk as a cart load of fleas;Lady Melbourn she brought him a neat little lamb,With lollipops he was by Miss Russel cramm’d,There were cradles and pap, boots, and rattles complete,And lots of small chairs with large holes in the seat.The head nurse Miss Peel, declared with much joy,She never saw such a sweet little boy.She’d clap him she said at the head of the police,That is if his mamma would give him that leave,Says old Waterloo Nell, it shall be no such thing,For the Prince he was born to become a great king;When the child to decide the question let fly,With a basin of pap knock’d out Betty Peel’s eye.The young Prince was set at the end of the room,And instead of a sceptre he shouldered a broom,His great uncle Ernest swore he could whack,And he gave him in earnest a most devilish crack,They all were as merry as grigs I declare,Each one seem’d determin’d to drive away care,One and all took a glass and drank with much joy,Long life to the Prince, he’s a fine little boy.
Come all you bold Britons, and list for awhile,And I will sing you a song that will make you to smile,A young Prince of Wales is come to town,The pride of all the nation, and heir to the crown,On the ninth of November, ’tis true ’pon my life,All Buckingham Palace was bustle and strife,The nurses stared at each other with joy,Bawling, our queen she has got a most beautiful boy.CHORUS.The bells they shall ring, and the music shall play,The ninth of November, remember the day.Through England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales,Shout long life to the Queen and the young Prince of Wales.It was on the ninth, about eleven in the morn,When the young Prince of Wales in the palace was born,Little Vic. she was there, as you all may be sure,Besides doctors, nurses, and gossips—a score,Says Vic. I declare he is the image of me,And there’s my dear Albert’s nose to a tee,One and all declared, when he grew up a man,He would drub all the foes that infested the land.Then Albert he stepped in with a face full of glee,And danced and he dandled his son on his knee,When all in an instant his countenance fell,And he cried “don’t I see a most terrible smell!”“Mine Cot,” says Al., “oh Lord what a mess!He has completely spoilt my new morning dress,Be quick go fetch me some napkins or towels,For my son, the young Prince, is relaxed in his bowels.”Of friends and relations there came such a crew,Of Lords, Dukes, and Ladies, and Germans a few,Each one bringing presents, the young Prince to please,They all were as brisk as a cart load of fleas;Lady Melbourn she brought him a neat little lamb,With lollipops he was by Miss Russel cramm’d,There were cradles and pap, boots, and rattles complete,And lots of small chairs with large holes in the seat.The head nurse Miss Peel, declared with much joy,She never saw such a sweet little boy.She’d clap him she said at the head of the police,That is if his mamma would give him that leave,Says old Waterloo Nell, it shall be no such thing,For the Prince he was born to become a great king;When the child to decide the question let fly,With a basin of pap knock’d out Betty Peel’s eye.The young Prince was set at the end of the room,And instead of a sceptre he shouldered a broom,His great uncle Ernest swore he could whack,And he gave him in earnest a most devilish crack,They all were as merry as grigs I declare,Each one seem’d determin’d to drive away care,One and all took a glass and drank with much joy,Long life to the Prince, he’s a fine little boy.
Come all you bold Britons, and list for awhile,And I will sing you a song that will make you to smile,A young Prince of Wales is come to town,The pride of all the nation, and heir to the crown,On the ninth of November, ’tis true ’pon my life,All Buckingham Palace was bustle and strife,The nurses stared at each other with joy,Bawling, our queen she has got a most beautiful boy.
Come all you bold Britons, and list for awhile,
And I will sing you a song that will make you to smile,
A young Prince of Wales is come to town,
The pride of all the nation, and heir to the crown,
On the ninth of November, ’tis true ’pon my life,
All Buckingham Palace was bustle and strife,
The nurses stared at each other with joy,
Bawling, our queen she has got a most beautiful boy.
CHORUS.
CHORUS.
The bells they shall ring, and the music shall play,The ninth of November, remember the day.Through England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales,Shout long life to the Queen and the young Prince of Wales.
The bells they shall ring, and the music shall play,
The ninth of November, remember the day.
Through England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales,
Shout long life to the Queen and the young Prince of Wales.
It was on the ninth, about eleven in the morn,When the young Prince of Wales in the palace was born,Little Vic. she was there, as you all may be sure,Besides doctors, nurses, and gossips—a score,Says Vic. I declare he is the image of me,And there’s my dear Albert’s nose to a tee,One and all declared, when he grew up a man,He would drub all the foes that infested the land.
It was on the ninth, about eleven in the morn,
When the young Prince of Wales in the palace was born,
Little Vic. she was there, as you all may be sure,
Besides doctors, nurses, and gossips—a score,
Says Vic. I declare he is the image of me,
And there’s my dear Albert’s nose to a tee,
One and all declared, when he grew up a man,
He would drub all the foes that infested the land.
Then Albert he stepped in with a face full of glee,And danced and he dandled his son on his knee,When all in an instant his countenance fell,And he cried “don’t I see a most terrible smell!”“Mine Cot,” says Al., “oh Lord what a mess!He has completely spoilt my new morning dress,Be quick go fetch me some napkins or towels,For my son, the young Prince, is relaxed in his bowels.”
Then Albert he stepped in with a face full of glee,
And danced and he dandled his son on his knee,
When all in an instant his countenance fell,
And he cried “don’t I see a most terrible smell!”
“Mine Cot,” says Al., “oh Lord what a mess!
He has completely spoilt my new morning dress,
Be quick go fetch me some napkins or towels,
For my son, the young Prince, is relaxed in his bowels.”
Of friends and relations there came such a crew,Of Lords, Dukes, and Ladies, and Germans a few,Each one bringing presents, the young Prince to please,They all were as brisk as a cart load of fleas;Lady Melbourn she brought him a neat little lamb,With lollipops he was by Miss Russel cramm’d,There were cradles and pap, boots, and rattles complete,And lots of small chairs with large holes in the seat.
Of friends and relations there came such a crew,
Of Lords, Dukes, and Ladies, and Germans a few,
Each one bringing presents, the young Prince to please,
They all were as brisk as a cart load of fleas;
Lady Melbourn she brought him a neat little lamb,
With lollipops he was by Miss Russel cramm’d,
There were cradles and pap, boots, and rattles complete,
And lots of small chairs with large holes in the seat.
The head nurse Miss Peel, declared with much joy,She never saw such a sweet little boy.She’d clap him she said at the head of the police,That is if his mamma would give him that leave,Says old Waterloo Nell, it shall be no such thing,For the Prince he was born to become a great king;When the child to decide the question let fly,With a basin of pap knock’d out Betty Peel’s eye.
The head nurse Miss Peel, declared with much joy,
She never saw such a sweet little boy.
She’d clap him she said at the head of the police,
That is if his mamma would give him that leave,
Says old Waterloo Nell, it shall be no such thing,
For the Prince he was born to become a great king;
When the child to decide the question let fly,
With a basin of pap knock’d out Betty Peel’s eye.
The young Prince was set at the end of the room,And instead of a sceptre he shouldered a broom,His great uncle Ernest swore he could whack,And he gave him in earnest a most devilish crack,They all were as merry as grigs I declare,Each one seem’d determin’d to drive away care,One and all took a glass and drank with much joy,Long life to the Prince, he’s a fine little boy.
The young Prince was set at the end of the room,
And instead of a sceptre he shouldered a broom,
His great uncle Ernest swore he could whack,
And he gave him in earnest a most devilish crack,
They all were as merry as grigs I declare,
Each one seem’d determin’d to drive away care,
One and all took a glass and drank with much joy,
Long life to the Prince, he’s a fine little boy.
THEOWDHAM CHAP’SVISITTOTH’ QUEEN.
It happen’d t’other Monday morn, while seated at my loom, sirs,Pickin’ th’ ends fro, eaut o’th yorn, caur Nan pop’d into th’ room sirs,Hoo shouted eaut, aw tell thee, Dick, aw think thour’t actin shabby,So off to Lunnon cut thy stick, and look at th’ royal babby.Every thing wur fun an’ glee, they laugh’d at o aw tow’d em,An’ ax’d if th’ folk wur o like me, ut happen’d t’ come fro’ Owdham.Then off aw goes an’ never stops, till into th’ palace handy,Th’ child wur sucking lollypops, plums, and sugarcandy;An’ little Vic i’th nook aw spied, a monkey on her lap, mon,An’ Albert sittin’ by her side, a mixin’ gin an’ pap mon.Everything wur, &c.When Albert seed me, up he jumps, an’ reet to me did waddle;An’ little Vicky sprung her pumps wi’ shakin’ o’ mydaddle;They ax’d to have a glass o’ wine, for pleasure up it waxes;O yes, says aw, six eight or nine, it o’ comes eaut o’th taxes.Everything wur, &c.They took the Prince of Wales up soon, an’ gan it me to daudle;Then Albert fotch’d a silver spoon, an’ ax’d me to taste at t’ caudle,Ecod, says aw, that’s good awd buck, it’s taste aws ne’er forget mon,An’ if my owd mother’d gan sich suck, ’cod aw’d been suckin yet mon.Everything wur, &c.They ax’d me heau aw liked their son, an’ prais’d both th’ nose an eyes on’t,Aw towd ’em though’t were only fun, ’t wur big enough for th’ size on’t,Says aw your Queenship makes a stir (hoo shapes none like a dunce monBut if eaur Nan lived as well as her hoo’d breed ’em two at wonce mon,)Everything wur, &c.They said they’d send their son to school as soon as he could walk mon,And then for fear he’d be a foo, they’d larn him th’ Owdham talk mon,Says aw there’s summut else as well, there’s nout loik drainin th’ whole pit,For fear he’ll ha’ for t’ keep hissell, aw’d larn him work i’th coal pit.Everything wur, &c.Then up o’th slopes we hod a walk’ to give our joints relief sirs,And then we sat us deun to talk, ’beaut politics and beef sirs,Aw towd ’em th’ corn laws wur but froth, an’ th’ taxes must o drop mon,That when eaur Nan wur makin broath, some fat might get to th’ top mon,Everything wur, &c.So neau my tale is at an end but nowt but truth aw tells sirs,If ever we want the times to mend we’ll ha’ for t’ do ’t eaur sells sirs,So neau yo seen aw’ve towd my sprees, and sure as aw am wick mon,If my owd wife and Albert dees aw’ll try for’t wed wi Vic mon.Everything wur, &c.
It happen’d t’other Monday morn, while seated at my loom, sirs,Pickin’ th’ ends fro, eaut o’th yorn, caur Nan pop’d into th’ room sirs,Hoo shouted eaut, aw tell thee, Dick, aw think thour’t actin shabby,So off to Lunnon cut thy stick, and look at th’ royal babby.Every thing wur fun an’ glee, they laugh’d at o aw tow’d em,An’ ax’d if th’ folk wur o like me, ut happen’d t’ come fro’ Owdham.Then off aw goes an’ never stops, till into th’ palace handy,Th’ child wur sucking lollypops, plums, and sugarcandy;An’ little Vic i’th nook aw spied, a monkey on her lap, mon,An’ Albert sittin’ by her side, a mixin’ gin an’ pap mon.Everything wur, &c.When Albert seed me, up he jumps, an’ reet to me did waddle;An’ little Vicky sprung her pumps wi’ shakin’ o’ mydaddle;They ax’d to have a glass o’ wine, for pleasure up it waxes;O yes, says aw, six eight or nine, it o’ comes eaut o’th taxes.Everything wur, &c.They took the Prince of Wales up soon, an’ gan it me to daudle;Then Albert fotch’d a silver spoon, an’ ax’d me to taste at t’ caudle,Ecod, says aw, that’s good awd buck, it’s taste aws ne’er forget mon,An’ if my owd mother’d gan sich suck, ’cod aw’d been suckin yet mon.Everything wur, &c.They ax’d me heau aw liked their son, an’ prais’d both th’ nose an eyes on’t,Aw towd ’em though’t were only fun, ’t wur big enough for th’ size on’t,Says aw your Queenship makes a stir (hoo shapes none like a dunce monBut if eaur Nan lived as well as her hoo’d breed ’em two at wonce mon,)Everything wur, &c.They said they’d send their son to school as soon as he could walk mon,And then for fear he’d be a foo, they’d larn him th’ Owdham talk mon,Says aw there’s summut else as well, there’s nout loik drainin th’ whole pit,For fear he’ll ha’ for t’ keep hissell, aw’d larn him work i’th coal pit.Everything wur, &c.Then up o’th slopes we hod a walk’ to give our joints relief sirs,And then we sat us deun to talk, ’beaut politics and beef sirs,Aw towd ’em th’ corn laws wur but froth, an’ th’ taxes must o drop mon,That when eaur Nan wur makin broath, some fat might get to th’ top mon,Everything wur, &c.So neau my tale is at an end but nowt but truth aw tells sirs,If ever we want the times to mend we’ll ha’ for t’ do ’t eaur sells sirs,So neau yo seen aw’ve towd my sprees, and sure as aw am wick mon,If my owd wife and Albert dees aw’ll try for’t wed wi Vic mon.Everything wur, &c.
It happen’d t’other Monday morn, while seated at my loom, sirs,Pickin’ th’ ends fro, eaut o’th yorn, caur Nan pop’d into th’ room sirs,Hoo shouted eaut, aw tell thee, Dick, aw think thour’t actin shabby,So off to Lunnon cut thy stick, and look at th’ royal babby.
It happen’d t’other Monday morn, while seated at my loom, sirs,
Pickin’ th’ ends fro, eaut o’th yorn, caur Nan pop’d into th’ room sirs,
Hoo shouted eaut, aw tell thee, Dick, aw think thour’t actin shabby,
So off to Lunnon cut thy stick, and look at th’ royal babby.
Every thing wur fun an’ glee, they laugh’d at o aw tow’d em,An’ ax’d if th’ folk wur o like me, ut happen’d t’ come fro’ Owdham.
Every thing wur fun an’ glee, they laugh’d at o aw tow’d em,
An’ ax’d if th’ folk wur o like me, ut happen’d t’ come fro’ Owdham.
Then off aw goes an’ never stops, till into th’ palace handy,Th’ child wur sucking lollypops, plums, and sugarcandy;An’ little Vic i’th nook aw spied, a monkey on her lap, mon,An’ Albert sittin’ by her side, a mixin’ gin an’ pap mon.Everything wur, &c.
Then off aw goes an’ never stops, till into th’ palace handy,
Th’ child wur sucking lollypops, plums, and sugarcandy;
An’ little Vic i’th nook aw spied, a monkey on her lap, mon,
An’ Albert sittin’ by her side, a mixin’ gin an’ pap mon.
Everything wur, &c.
When Albert seed me, up he jumps, an’ reet to me did waddle;An’ little Vicky sprung her pumps wi’ shakin’ o’ mydaddle;They ax’d to have a glass o’ wine, for pleasure up it waxes;O yes, says aw, six eight or nine, it o’ comes eaut o’th taxes.Everything wur, &c.
When Albert seed me, up he jumps, an’ reet to me did waddle;
An’ little Vicky sprung her pumps wi’ shakin’ o’ mydaddle;
They ax’d to have a glass o’ wine, for pleasure up it waxes;
O yes, says aw, six eight or nine, it o’ comes eaut o’th taxes.
Everything wur, &c.
They took the Prince of Wales up soon, an’ gan it me to daudle;Then Albert fotch’d a silver spoon, an’ ax’d me to taste at t’ caudle,Ecod, says aw, that’s good awd buck, it’s taste aws ne’er forget mon,An’ if my owd mother’d gan sich suck, ’cod aw’d been suckin yet mon.Everything wur, &c.
They took the Prince of Wales up soon, an’ gan it me to daudle;
Then Albert fotch’d a silver spoon, an’ ax’d me to taste at t’ caudle,
Ecod, says aw, that’s good awd buck, it’s taste aws ne’er forget mon,
An’ if my owd mother’d gan sich suck, ’cod aw’d been suckin yet mon.
Everything wur, &c.
They ax’d me heau aw liked their son, an’ prais’d both th’ nose an eyes on’t,Aw towd ’em though’t were only fun, ’t wur big enough for th’ size on’t,Says aw your Queenship makes a stir (hoo shapes none like a dunce monBut if eaur Nan lived as well as her hoo’d breed ’em two at wonce mon,)Everything wur, &c.
They ax’d me heau aw liked their son, an’ prais’d both th’ nose an eyes on’t,
Aw towd ’em though’t were only fun, ’t wur big enough for th’ size on’t,
Says aw your Queenship makes a stir (hoo shapes none like a dunce mon
But if eaur Nan lived as well as her hoo’d breed ’em two at wonce mon,)
Everything wur, &c.
They said they’d send their son to school as soon as he could walk mon,And then for fear he’d be a foo, they’d larn him th’ Owdham talk mon,Says aw there’s summut else as well, there’s nout loik drainin th’ whole pit,For fear he’ll ha’ for t’ keep hissell, aw’d larn him work i’th coal pit.Everything wur, &c.
They said they’d send their son to school as soon as he could walk mon,
And then for fear he’d be a foo, they’d larn him th’ Owdham talk mon,
Says aw there’s summut else as well, there’s nout loik drainin th’ whole pit,
For fear he’ll ha’ for t’ keep hissell, aw’d larn him work i’th coal pit.
Everything wur, &c.
Then up o’th slopes we hod a walk’ to give our joints relief sirs,And then we sat us deun to talk, ’beaut politics and beef sirs,Aw towd ’em th’ corn laws wur but froth, an’ th’ taxes must o drop mon,That when eaur Nan wur makin broath, some fat might get to th’ top mon,Everything wur, &c.
Then up o’th slopes we hod a walk’ to give our joints relief sirs,
And then we sat us deun to talk, ’beaut politics and beef sirs,
Aw towd ’em th’ corn laws wur but froth, an’ th’ taxes must o drop mon,
That when eaur Nan wur makin broath, some fat might get to th’ top mon,
Everything wur, &c.
So neau my tale is at an end but nowt but truth aw tells sirs,If ever we want the times to mend we’ll ha’ for t’ do ’t eaur sells sirs,So neau yo seen aw’ve towd my sprees, and sure as aw am wick mon,If my owd wife and Albert dees aw’ll try for’t wed wi Vic mon.Everything wur, &c.
So neau my tale is at an end but nowt but truth aw tells sirs,
If ever we want the times to mend we’ll ha’ for t’ do ’t eaur sells sirs,
So neau yo seen aw’ve towd my sprees, and sure as aw am wick mon,
If my owd wife and Albert dees aw’ll try for’t wed wi Vic mon.
Everything wur, &c.
J. Harkness, Printer, 121, Church Street, Preston.
Tune.—“Great Meat Pie.”On Monday, October twenty-eight,The Queen, you’re all aware,Open’d the Royal Exchange in state,And lunch’d with the great Lord Mayor;A holiday all London made,At least there were many that stole one,Whilehalfa sovereign was gladly paid,To get a sight of awholeone!Ri fol, &c.Shop fronts of articles were bared,To make way for those who’d chink,While a label over their heads declar’dThem ‘warranted not to shrink.’At a furrier’s shop close by, a sightOf human mugs did grin, sirs,With a bill above, in black and white,“A stock ofmuffswithin, sirs!”Ri fol, &c.The state procession pass’d by quick,A very spicy state in,There were Lords of the Gold and Silver Stick,And othersticksin waiting.The Master of the Hounds, of course,(A regularbuck) was there,And the noble Master of the Horse,Who went to see themayor!Ri fol, &c.At Temple Bar, Lord Magnus Mayor,Perform’d King Dick that day,And offer’d Vic. his sword so bare,In a werrycuttingway,“Of such fine looking blades,” cries Vic.,“In the City there but few are,So take it back again, old flick,I’m not so sordid (sworded) as you are.”Ri fol, &c.The aldermen made quite a fix,Their nags so frisk’d and play’d did,Ducrow could never do such tricksOn horsehack such as they did.They reach’d the ’Change, quite pleas’d, no doubt,When the trumpeter, clever elf!Gave his trumpet a goodblow out,Though he didn’t get onehimself.Ri fol, &c.The Address was read to her apace,Though they minded all their stops,They thank’d her for coming toopenthe place,Though sheshutup all their shops.When Mr. Tite was introduc’d,Says the Queen, with much affection,“Well, Mr. Tite, with much delight,I admire the fine erection.”Ri fol, &c.When Lambert Jones kiss’d hands, so coy,Says Vic., but not with malice,“I wonder, Al., if that’s theboyThat got inside my palace?”Just then the bells began to ring,And the band began to play,While Magnay whistled, for he couldn’t sing,“It is our op’ning day.”Ri fol, &c.To luncheon now they went full tear,For splendour naught could beat it,And as it was agameaffair,They were game enough to eat it.The wine and toasts went round, so Vic.Gave, “Here, success to trade is,”Says Albert, “Well, I’ll be a brick,I’ll give ‘The charming ladies.’”Ri fol, &c.For Alderman Gibbs no small amountOf enquiries folks were making,’Twas thought he had gone to his long account,The reckoning day mistaking.But Michael went another wayTo the banquet so inducing,For though he expected duck that day,He didn’t want agaosing.Ri fol, &c.The royal pile they now walk’d round,When they reach’d the merchants’ space,At the brazen trumpet’s martial sound,Her Majesty open’d the place.Thus clos’d the door with great eclat,(As a few remark’d, so witty,)“Sho help macot, I nevershawChita sphlendidchitein thechitty.”Ri fol, &c.
Tune.—“Great Meat Pie.”On Monday, October twenty-eight,The Queen, you’re all aware,Open’d the Royal Exchange in state,And lunch’d with the great Lord Mayor;A holiday all London made,At least there were many that stole one,Whilehalfa sovereign was gladly paid,To get a sight of awholeone!Ri fol, &c.Shop fronts of articles were bared,To make way for those who’d chink,While a label over their heads declar’dThem ‘warranted not to shrink.’At a furrier’s shop close by, a sightOf human mugs did grin, sirs,With a bill above, in black and white,“A stock ofmuffswithin, sirs!”Ri fol, &c.The state procession pass’d by quick,A very spicy state in,There were Lords of the Gold and Silver Stick,And othersticksin waiting.The Master of the Hounds, of course,(A regularbuck) was there,And the noble Master of the Horse,Who went to see themayor!Ri fol, &c.At Temple Bar, Lord Magnus Mayor,Perform’d King Dick that day,And offer’d Vic. his sword so bare,In a werrycuttingway,“Of such fine looking blades,” cries Vic.,“In the City there but few are,So take it back again, old flick,I’m not so sordid (sworded) as you are.”Ri fol, &c.The aldermen made quite a fix,Their nags so frisk’d and play’d did,Ducrow could never do such tricksOn horsehack such as they did.They reach’d the ’Change, quite pleas’d, no doubt,When the trumpeter, clever elf!Gave his trumpet a goodblow out,Though he didn’t get onehimself.Ri fol, &c.The Address was read to her apace,Though they minded all their stops,They thank’d her for coming toopenthe place,Though sheshutup all their shops.When Mr. Tite was introduc’d,Says the Queen, with much affection,“Well, Mr. Tite, with much delight,I admire the fine erection.”Ri fol, &c.When Lambert Jones kiss’d hands, so coy,Says Vic., but not with malice,“I wonder, Al., if that’s theboyThat got inside my palace?”Just then the bells began to ring,And the band began to play,While Magnay whistled, for he couldn’t sing,“It is our op’ning day.”Ri fol, &c.To luncheon now they went full tear,For splendour naught could beat it,And as it was agameaffair,They were game enough to eat it.The wine and toasts went round, so Vic.Gave, “Here, success to trade is,”Says Albert, “Well, I’ll be a brick,I’ll give ‘The charming ladies.’”Ri fol, &c.For Alderman Gibbs no small amountOf enquiries folks were making,’Twas thought he had gone to his long account,The reckoning day mistaking.But Michael went another wayTo the banquet so inducing,For though he expected duck that day,He didn’t want agaosing.Ri fol, &c.The royal pile they now walk’d round,When they reach’d the merchants’ space,At the brazen trumpet’s martial sound,Her Majesty open’d the place.Thus clos’d the door with great eclat,(As a few remark’d, so witty,)“Sho help macot, I nevershawChita sphlendidchitein thechitty.”Ri fol, &c.
Tune.—“Great Meat Pie.”
On Monday, October twenty-eight,The Queen, you’re all aware,Open’d the Royal Exchange in state,And lunch’d with the great Lord Mayor;A holiday all London made,At least there were many that stole one,Whilehalfa sovereign was gladly paid,To get a sight of awholeone!Ri fol, &c.
On Monday, October twenty-eight,
The Queen, you’re all aware,
Open’d the Royal Exchange in state,
And lunch’d with the great Lord Mayor;
A holiday all London made,
At least there were many that stole one,
Whilehalfa sovereign was gladly paid,
To get a sight of awholeone!
Ri fol, &c.
Shop fronts of articles were bared,To make way for those who’d chink,While a label over their heads declar’dThem ‘warranted not to shrink.’At a furrier’s shop close by, a sightOf human mugs did grin, sirs,With a bill above, in black and white,“A stock ofmuffswithin, sirs!”Ri fol, &c.
Shop fronts of articles were bared,
To make way for those who’d chink,
While a label over their heads declar’d
Them ‘warranted not to shrink.’
At a furrier’s shop close by, a sight
Of human mugs did grin, sirs,
With a bill above, in black and white,
“A stock ofmuffswithin, sirs!”
Ri fol, &c.
The state procession pass’d by quick,A very spicy state in,There were Lords of the Gold and Silver Stick,And othersticksin waiting.The Master of the Hounds, of course,(A regularbuck) was there,And the noble Master of the Horse,Who went to see themayor!Ri fol, &c.
The state procession pass’d by quick,
A very spicy state in,
There were Lords of the Gold and Silver Stick,
And othersticksin waiting.
The Master of the Hounds, of course,
(A regularbuck) was there,
And the noble Master of the Horse,
Who went to see themayor!
Ri fol, &c.
At Temple Bar, Lord Magnus Mayor,Perform’d King Dick that day,And offer’d Vic. his sword so bare,In a werrycuttingway,“Of such fine looking blades,” cries Vic.,“In the City there but few are,So take it back again, old flick,I’m not so sordid (sworded) as you are.”Ri fol, &c.
At Temple Bar, Lord Magnus Mayor,
Perform’d King Dick that day,
And offer’d Vic. his sword so bare,
In a werrycuttingway,
“Of such fine looking blades,” cries Vic.,
“In the City there but few are,
So take it back again, old flick,
I’m not so sordid (sworded) as you are.”
Ri fol, &c.
The aldermen made quite a fix,Their nags so frisk’d and play’d did,Ducrow could never do such tricksOn horsehack such as they did.They reach’d the ’Change, quite pleas’d, no doubt,When the trumpeter, clever elf!Gave his trumpet a goodblow out,Though he didn’t get onehimself.Ri fol, &c.
The aldermen made quite a fix,
Their nags so frisk’d and play’d did,
Ducrow could never do such tricks
On horsehack such as they did.
They reach’d the ’Change, quite pleas’d, no doubt,
When the trumpeter, clever elf!
Gave his trumpet a goodblow out,
Though he didn’t get onehimself.
Ri fol, &c.
The Address was read to her apace,Though they minded all their stops,They thank’d her for coming toopenthe place,Though sheshutup all their shops.When Mr. Tite was introduc’d,Says the Queen, with much affection,“Well, Mr. Tite, with much delight,I admire the fine erection.”Ri fol, &c.
The Address was read to her apace,
Though they minded all their stops,
They thank’d her for coming toopenthe place,
Though sheshutup all their shops.
When Mr. Tite was introduc’d,
Says the Queen, with much affection,
“Well, Mr. Tite, with much delight,
I admire the fine erection.”
Ri fol, &c.
When Lambert Jones kiss’d hands, so coy,Says Vic., but not with malice,“I wonder, Al., if that’s theboyThat got inside my palace?”Just then the bells began to ring,And the band began to play,While Magnay whistled, for he couldn’t sing,“It is our op’ning day.”Ri fol, &c.
When Lambert Jones kiss’d hands, so coy,
Says Vic., but not with malice,
“I wonder, Al., if that’s theboy
That got inside my palace?”
Just then the bells began to ring,
And the band began to play,
While Magnay whistled, for he couldn’t sing,
“It is our op’ning day.”
Ri fol, &c.
To luncheon now they went full tear,For splendour naught could beat it,And as it was agameaffair,They were game enough to eat it.The wine and toasts went round, so Vic.Gave, “Here, success to trade is,”Says Albert, “Well, I’ll be a brick,I’ll give ‘The charming ladies.’”Ri fol, &c.
To luncheon now they went full tear,
For splendour naught could beat it,
And as it was agameaffair,
They were game enough to eat it.
The wine and toasts went round, so Vic.
Gave, “Here, success to trade is,”
Says Albert, “Well, I’ll be a brick,
I’ll give ‘The charming ladies.’”
Ri fol, &c.
For Alderman Gibbs no small amountOf enquiries folks were making,’Twas thought he had gone to his long account,The reckoning day mistaking.But Michael went another wayTo the banquet so inducing,For though he expected duck that day,He didn’t want agaosing.Ri fol, &c.
For Alderman Gibbs no small amount
Of enquiries folks were making,
’Twas thought he had gone to his long account,
The reckoning day mistaking.
But Michael went another way
To the banquet so inducing,
For though he expected duck that day,
He didn’t want agaosing.
Ri fol, &c.
The royal pile they now walk’d round,When they reach’d the merchants’ space,At the brazen trumpet’s martial sound,Her Majesty open’d the place.Thus clos’d the door with great eclat,(As a few remark’d, so witty,)“Sho help macot, I nevershawChita sphlendidchitein thechitty.”Ri fol, &c.
The royal pile they now walk’d round,
When they reach’d the merchants’ space,
At the brazen trumpet’s martial sound,
Her Majesty open’d the place.
Thus clos’d the door with great eclat,
(As a few remark’d, so witty,)
“Sho help macot, I nevershaw
Chita sphlendidchitein thechitty.”
Ri fol, &c.
London.—Published byJ. Fairburn, Commercial Place, City Road.
Everybody stop and listen to my ditty,And let the news spread from town to city,The Prince of Wales has long enough tarried,And now we know he has got married.For he went to sleep all nightAnd part of the next day,The Prince of Wales must tell some tales,With his doo dah, doo dah, day.His pastime for a week there’s no disputing,For the first three days he went out shooting,He’s like his father I don’t deceive her,And she like Vick is a good feeder.The next two days, so it is said, sir,He began to dig out the parsley bed, sir,Like his dad he does understand,And knows how to cultivate a bit.The first day over he laid in clover,And just alike he felt all over;At fox-hunting he’s clever and all races,Yet she might throw him out of the traces.He must not go larking along with the gals,Keep out of the Haymarket and Pall Mall;And to no married woman must he speak,She’ll stand no nonsense or half-crowns a-week.In November next she must not failBut have a little Prince of Wales,Young Albert he must not be beat,But contrive to make both ends meet.When his wife is in a funny way,Then he must not go astray;Of all those things he must take warning,Nor go out with the girls and stop till morning.The last Prince of Wales was a good’un to go,He would ride with the girls in Rotten Row,He use to flare-up, he was no joker,He was as fat as a Yarmouth bloater.He must look to his stock and cultivation,He must be a father to the nation;He must begin to reap and sow,Be a rum’un to look at, but a good’un to go.He wants six maids as light as fairies,To milk the cows and look to the dairy,To his wife the household affairs confiding,While the Prince of Wales goes out riding.Long life to the Prince and his fair lady,May she have health and bouncing babies,May the Prince be King, we want no other,And take the steps of his father and mother.
Everybody stop and listen to my ditty,And let the news spread from town to city,The Prince of Wales has long enough tarried,And now we know he has got married.For he went to sleep all nightAnd part of the next day,The Prince of Wales must tell some tales,With his doo dah, doo dah, day.His pastime for a week there’s no disputing,For the first three days he went out shooting,He’s like his father I don’t deceive her,And she like Vick is a good feeder.The next two days, so it is said, sir,He began to dig out the parsley bed, sir,Like his dad he does understand,And knows how to cultivate a bit.The first day over he laid in clover,And just alike he felt all over;At fox-hunting he’s clever and all races,Yet she might throw him out of the traces.He must not go larking along with the gals,Keep out of the Haymarket and Pall Mall;And to no married woman must he speak,She’ll stand no nonsense or half-crowns a-week.In November next she must not failBut have a little Prince of Wales,Young Albert he must not be beat,But contrive to make both ends meet.When his wife is in a funny way,Then he must not go astray;Of all those things he must take warning,Nor go out with the girls and stop till morning.The last Prince of Wales was a good’un to go,He would ride with the girls in Rotten Row,He use to flare-up, he was no joker,He was as fat as a Yarmouth bloater.He must look to his stock and cultivation,He must be a father to the nation;He must begin to reap and sow,Be a rum’un to look at, but a good’un to go.He wants six maids as light as fairies,To milk the cows and look to the dairy,To his wife the household affairs confiding,While the Prince of Wales goes out riding.Long life to the Prince and his fair lady,May she have health and bouncing babies,May the Prince be King, we want no other,And take the steps of his father and mother.
Everybody stop and listen to my ditty,And let the news spread from town to city,The Prince of Wales has long enough tarried,And now we know he has got married.
Everybody stop and listen to my ditty,
And let the news spread from town to city,
The Prince of Wales has long enough tarried,
And now we know he has got married.
For he went to sleep all nightAnd part of the next day,The Prince of Wales must tell some tales,With his doo dah, doo dah, day.
For he went to sleep all night
And part of the next day,
The Prince of Wales must tell some tales,
With his doo dah, doo dah, day.
His pastime for a week there’s no disputing,For the first three days he went out shooting,He’s like his father I don’t deceive her,And she like Vick is a good feeder.
His pastime for a week there’s no disputing,
For the first three days he went out shooting,
He’s like his father I don’t deceive her,
And she like Vick is a good feeder.
The next two days, so it is said, sir,He began to dig out the parsley bed, sir,Like his dad he does understand,And knows how to cultivate a bit.
The next two days, so it is said, sir,
He began to dig out the parsley bed, sir,
Like his dad he does understand,
And knows how to cultivate a bit.
The first day over he laid in clover,And just alike he felt all over;At fox-hunting he’s clever and all races,Yet she might throw him out of the traces.
The first day over he laid in clover,
And just alike he felt all over;
At fox-hunting he’s clever and all races,
Yet she might throw him out of the traces.
He must not go larking along with the gals,Keep out of the Haymarket and Pall Mall;And to no married woman must he speak,She’ll stand no nonsense or half-crowns a-week.
He must not go larking along with the gals,
Keep out of the Haymarket and Pall Mall;
And to no married woman must he speak,
She’ll stand no nonsense or half-crowns a-week.
In November next she must not failBut have a little Prince of Wales,Young Albert he must not be beat,But contrive to make both ends meet.
In November next she must not fail
But have a little Prince of Wales,
Young Albert he must not be beat,
But contrive to make both ends meet.
When his wife is in a funny way,Then he must not go astray;Of all those things he must take warning,Nor go out with the girls and stop till morning.
When his wife is in a funny way,
Then he must not go astray;
Of all those things he must take warning,
Nor go out with the girls and stop till morning.
The last Prince of Wales was a good’un to go,He would ride with the girls in Rotten Row,He use to flare-up, he was no joker,He was as fat as a Yarmouth bloater.
The last Prince of Wales was a good’un to go,
He would ride with the girls in Rotten Row,
He use to flare-up, he was no joker,
He was as fat as a Yarmouth bloater.
He must look to his stock and cultivation,He must be a father to the nation;He must begin to reap and sow,Be a rum’un to look at, but a good’un to go.
He must look to his stock and cultivation,
He must be a father to the nation;
He must begin to reap and sow,
Be a rum’un to look at, but a good’un to go.
He wants six maids as light as fairies,To milk the cows and look to the dairy,To his wife the household affairs confiding,While the Prince of Wales goes out riding.
He wants six maids as light as fairies,
To milk the cows and look to the dairy,
To his wife the household affairs confiding,
While the Prince of Wales goes out riding.
Long life to the Prince and his fair lady,May she have health and bouncing babies,May the Prince be King, we want no other,And take the steps of his father and mother.
Long life to the Prince and his fair lady,
May she have health and bouncing babies,
May the Prince be King, we want no other,
And take the steps of his father and mother.
H. Disley, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Giles, London, W.C.
A NEW FARCE.
Performed in various parts of the United Kingdom by His Majesty’s Servants.
Scene.—A Cobbler’s Stall.Crispinat work hammering a sole.
Crispin.By the lord of the manor, thou art a tough piece, and not much unlike the hide of my wife Bridget; for though I should beat her hide with all my might and main, I cannot shape the vixen to my fancy: Oh, you hard soles (hammering) are the most useless of all others, except to the wearer. If I was a leading man in the state, I should move for a law to be enacted, that goodleatherand goodhempshould only be employed for smuggling courtiers, purse-proud citizens, and for parliament-men—if such a law should pass, it would be a rare thing for trade in general.
EnterPanderandSir Bilberry Dibble.
Pand.Here’s a psalm-singing cobbler, Sir Bilberry; he has a vote for the borough, as good as the best; do not let us pass honest Crispin.
Sir B.By the essence of lillies, thou’rt right, Pander; the scum of mobility, as well as the scum of gentry, at this time, must be attended to; ’tis a sacrifice that’s due to necessity. Therefore, may I never more breathe the mellifluous air of Montpellier, if I do not descend to request his suffrage; the controverted occasion carries a pardon for the humiliating and filthy condescension.—Master Shoe-maker, your most devoted humble servant (bowing), I am, sweet sir, yours to the ground. (still bowing.)
Cris.Master Shoe-maker! do you mean to mock me?—No, no, I am no shoe-maker, but like some of your very fine gentlemen at the head of affairs—a poor cobbler at best.
Sir B.This fellow, Pander, has been commended by some blockhead, like himself for his insufferable bluntness, or he would never presume to be so shocking to the feelings of delicacy.
Pan.Bear with him, Sir Bilberry; this is a time when men will say whatever comes uppermost, paying no more respect to delicacy than Æsops’s cock to his diamond. If you would succeed, Sir Bilberry, you must descend to be perfectly reconciled to their oddities.
Sir B.I will be reconciled. Well, honest cobbler.—Do you love money?
Cris.Yes; but I love honesty better—
Sir B.Honestly said. If you do me a favor, you shall have as much honesty as you please, and money into the bargain.
Cris.Who are you, and may it please you?
Sir B.I am Sir Bilberry Dibble, knight and baronet, of Dibble Hall, in this county; come to offer myself for your most ancient borough of Steady-town; should I be so happy as to obtain the ultimate zenith of my wish, you, Mr. Cobbler, shall soon find an alteration in the price of good ale; bread shall be but half the rate it stands at now; and above all, your trade shall flourish and your taxes fall; so that the cobbler as well as the prince shall have a glorious opportunity of saddling his spit with a fat sirloin; your right of common shall soon be restored, and without excise, or the doctor’s tithe; pigs, poultry, and plum puddings, shall crown your cupboards all the year. Now give me your vote, friend Crispin, and as you puff your fragrant essence from your stall in merry glee, you heel the shoe, and bless the hour you gave your vote for Dibble.
Cris.Oh, you fine powdered gentlemen are something like my codling tree last spring.
Sir B.How’s that, cobbler?
Cris.It then dealt a wonderful show of blossom, so much that I concluded a rare autumn; but, alas! I was mistaken; I had not so much as a crump. So ’tis with you who are candidates for boroughs, you promise very fair in the spring of your canvass, but in autumn of election, when we should expect the fruit of good works of you, we too often find you worthless, base, and barren.
Sir B.Nay, Mr. Cobbler, you are too severe in the conclusions; a man of my honour can never deceive you;—Can I, Pander?
Pand.No, Sir Bilberry. I have known Sir Bilberry from a child, and never knew a dishonest thing of him, upon my honour, friend Crispin.
Cris.That’s the last lie you told, Friend Pander. Well, Sir Bilberry Dibble, knight and baronet of Dibble-hall, in this county, you are come to ask a vote of a poor cobbler.
Sir B.I am, friend Crispin, and you may assure yourself that there is not a man in the whole borough I respect so much as yourself, though but a poor cobbler.
Cris.Indeed!—that’s strange—why you never saw me before.
Sir B.Oh, that don’t signify! I tell you, friend Crispin, I respect you equal to the mayor himself.
Cris.That’s kind. Come into my stall and sit down, and let’s have a little chat together; there, that’s hearty; give us your fist. (Here Dibble takes up his clothes, gets into the cobbler’s stall, and sits down.)
Sir B.Pshaw! how he stinks. (aside.)
Cris.So you love me as well as the lord of the manor himself?—that’s kind, and so we’ll have a glass of gin together.
Sir B.Oh, no! ’pon honour.
Cris.Oh, yes; when this is gone, there’s enough at the Three Norfolk Dumplins and Horse Shoe over the way! Come, here’s the North-country cobbler’s health, who refused to mend the shoe of the man that was inimical to his country’s interest. (drinks.) A glass of as good maximus as e’er tip’t over an exciseman’s tongue. Here, take hold. (presents it to Dibble.)
Sir B.Dear, Mr. Cobbler, you must pardon me.
Cris.No, no; you, who love me as well as the lord of the manor himself, must drink with me, or I shall take it unkind, and perhaps give my vote where I think I am more respected.
Sir B.Resistance is in vain—to get his vote I must submit and take the poison. (aside.) Well, friend Crispin, to show that I respect you, here’s yours and the King’s good health. (drinks.) Pshaw, pshaw, it’s a nauseous draught, (aside.)
Cris.That’s well (throws his arms round Dibble’s neck.) My dear friend, that loves me as well as the mayor himself, kiss my cheek, and then I will believe you are sincere in your friendship.
Sir B.There, Crispin. Pshaw, how he stinks of those vile spirits and tobacco. (aside.)
Cris.Give us your fist again (holding him by the hand), my dear friend, Sir Bilberry, who loves me as well as the mayor himself, who can descend to drink gin with, and kiss a poor cobbler in his stall. I heartily thank you, and now I’ll finish my shoe.
Sir B.Well, honest Crispin! you promised to vote for me?
Cris.Who told you so?
Sir B.Oh! my dear, I understand you (taking out his purse) here are corianders that will purchase hides enough to heel-piece the whole borough—here Crispin.
Cris.What! a bribe;——out of my stall, or by Jingo I’ll stick my awl to the head in your——
Dibble leaves the stall, Crispin follows.
Sir B.Here’s a transition, Pander.
Cris.What! shall Crispin Heel-tap, the cobbler of Steady-town, give his vote to such a thing as you? A mean-spirited rascal who can stoop to drink gin in a stall, and to kiss the sweaty cheek of a poor cobbler? No, no; to serve your purpose you would not mind stooping to kiss my——, make off while you’re safe. I’ll vote for none of your Jack-a-Dandy’s, but for my faithful master, Sir Thomas Trueman—so away, Sir Fop, you have your answer.
Exeunt Dibble and Pander.
Ryle & Co., Printers, 2 and 3, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials, London.
Tutor.Now my Scholars, all of you that renounce the Whigs and all their works, stand up, and I will hear you say your lessons.—Know my children, that those who we hailed as friends a short time back, were but wolves in lamb’s clothing, and are now about to attack you, the children of the Unions and members of the flock of the good Shepherd of Birmingham; but my good children, be firm, and you will yet escape their devouring jaws. Know you, my children, that ferocious wolf of Winchelsea is about to disunite you?
Pupil.(Laughing.) Ah! ah! ah!
T. What are you laughing at, you young dog?
P. Why, sir, I really thought you was joking, when you said ferocious wolf, for I think he is more like a skulking Fox.
T. Aye! you young dog, do you mean to call the big and noble animal of Winchelsea, a skulking Fox?—Did he not bravely challenge the Tiger of Waterloo at Battersea?
P. That he did, sir, and bravely skulked away.
T. What sir! did he not nobly fight, and return the fire?
P. That he did, sir, in the air.
T. But do you mean to say that he flew from the shot?
P. Oh no, sir, for he received a mortal wound in the tail.
T. Well, come come, I find you are a good lad, and learn your lesson.—But I was about to say that this big Battersea Hermit said a short time back that your Unions must be suppressed, for that, while you are united, the Wolves of St. Stephens cannot easily prey upon you.—But, my good children, you that are of the flock of the Unions, be firm, and Attwood your Shepherd, will defend you from their avaricious jaws. Now, you sit down, while I hear little Radical his lesson.—Now Radical——
P. Here, sir.
T. Let me hear you say the lesson I set you—now, go on.
P.