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All-Dribble, dribble, nonsense dribble,
Bexley talk, and Kenyon scribble,

3rd B.--Now the charm begins to brew;
Sisters, sisters, add thereto

Scraps of Lethbridge's old speeches
Mix'd with leather from his breeches,
Rinsings of old Bexley's brains,
Thickened (if you'll take the pains)
With that pulp which rags create,
In their middle, nympha state,
Ere, like insects frail and sunny,
Forth they wing abroad as money.

There the Hell-broth we've enchanted-
Now but one thing more is wanted.
Squeeze o'er all that orange juice,
Castlereagh keeps cork'd for use,
Which, to work the better spell, is
Colour'd deep with blood of
Blood, of powers far more various,
Even than that of Januarius,
Since so great a charm hangs o'er it,
England's parsors bow before it

All-Dribble, dribble, nonsense dribble,
Bexley, talk, and Kenyon, scribble.

* *

So great was the success of "The Rejected Addresses," that many inferior imitations were issued, amongst them being a small Volume, entitled "Accepted Addresses" published by Thomas Tegg. In it are poems jocularly ascribed to Lord Byron, and Walter Scott, there is also a burlesque, entitled "Macbeth Travestie, in three acts. With Burlesque annotations, after the manner of Dr. Johnson, G. Stevens, Esq., and the various Commentators." The author acknowledges that the favorable reception which attended the Travestie on Hamlet, by John Poole, gave him the suggestion for the undertaking, to which it must be said, it is much inferior. It contains no parodies of sufficient interest or merit to be quoted.

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THE DERBY VOTER'S SOLILOQUY.

(Spoken in a darkened doorway with his face to the wall.)

Is this a sovereign which I'feel behind me, Slipp'd gently into my hand? Come, let me sack thee:

Art thou not precious metal, sensible

To vision as to touch? or art thou but

A sovereign of the mind, a false sensation,

Proceeding from the beer-oppressed brain?

I feel thee yet, a coin as palpable

As this I now produce.

Thou hint'st to me the side whereon I'm going; And such a candidate I am to choose.

My conscience is the weakest of my senses,

Which should rule all the rest. I feel thee stillA blade that has no gudgeon in his blood,

I ne'er was sold before. Pooh! no such thing;

It is the freeman's privilege which informs
Thus to mine eyes. Now throughout all the land
Protection's dead; and wicked bribes abuse
The voter's trust; now CoPPOCK celebrates
Corruption's offerings; and cunning EDWARDS,
Subduing easy principle with pelf,
Prowls on the watch, and thus with hidden face,
The stumpy lavishes wide towards his design,
Mute as a post. Ye men of sense and worth,
Mark not my course, which way I vote, for fear,
My very looks show I've been tamper'd with;
And take the present honour from my name
That now rests with it. Whiles I yet shall live,
Votes I for treats and feeds and gold will give.
I go and plump anon: the chink invites me.
Hear it not, BERESFORD ! for 'tis a knell
That summons thee to follow JACOB BELL!

Punch, August, 1852.

There was another "Macbeth Travestie" in two acts, written by Francis Talfourd, and performed at Henley-on-Thames, on the day of the regatta, June 17, 1847. This was published by E. T. Spiers, of High Street, Oxford, it was afterwards produced, with slight alterations, at the Strand Theatre, on January 10, 1848; and again at the Olympic Theatre, on April 25, 1853, when the part of Macbeth was performed by F. Robson. The London Edition (published by Lacy) has a humourous preface by William Farren. The Incantation Scene (scene IV., act II.) commences thus:

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WITCHES (singing)

We'll raise a jolly good spell-oh!
We'll raise a jolly good spell-oh!
We'll raise a jolly good spell-oh!
Macbeth to terrify!
Macbeth to terrify!
Macbeth to terrify!

It's a way they had on the stage-oh!
When Melodrame was all the rage-oh!
The audience with spells to engage-oh!
So we'll at a spell have a shy!
So we'll, &c.

THE INCANTATION.

1st WITCH.-Apron strings of old maids-tabbies; Tongues of spifflicated babbies; Joinville of a greasy gent,

Reeking with unhallowed scent.

2nd WITCH.-Beards of maggots, maws of mummies,
Fingers of flue-strangled chummies
Heap in humbugs all to aid us-
Banjos, bones, and serenaders!

Holloway's grease, and Frampton's pills,
Fuel fierce of human ills!

Mild emetics-one a dose is;

Seventy-seven street-sweepers' noses!

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2nd Witch.-Plums and currants now we take,

And the sugar in we shake;

Candied peel and citron, too

Get it fresh whate'er you do!
And ere any item sticks

Let us everything re-mix,

All-Never mind a little trouble,

Extra praise will pay us double.

3rd Witch.-Now the eggs well beaten up
Pour in gently from a cup;
Add of milk a little drop,
And from stirring do not stop
Till the wooden spoon you pass
Through a well comm ngled mass.
Then when you can mix no more,
Over all the brandy pour,
None must idle then remain,
Each in turn must mix again.

THE MODERN MACBETH.

CHARACTERS.

Mac Gladstone, Mrs. Mac Gladstone, Joe Mac Caucus.
SCENE. The dining-room in Downing Street.

MAC GLAD.-Here now methinks our ministry were safe,
Were the graced person of our Gordon here,
Him do I challenge for his obstinacy
In sticking at Khartoum.

JOE MAC C.

His absence, sir,

Is hard upon the Government. Please you, sir,

To grace us with your everlasting speech.

MAC GLAD. There is no seat..

MRS. MAC GLAD.

Here is a place for you.

What, Grand Old Man?

MAC GLAD.-Who has played me this trick?

JOE MAC C.

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OTHELLO.

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Othello.-MOST potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
My very noble and approved good masters,
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
It is most true; true, I have married her;
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace :
For since these arms of mine had seven years pith,

Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
Their dearest action in the tented field,

And little of this great world can I speak,

More than pertains to feats of broil and battle,

And therefore little shall I grace my cause

In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver

Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,
What conjuration and what mighty magic,

For such proceeding I am charged withal,
I won his daughter.

OTHELLO., Act I. Scene III.

Gordon's health.

[Ghost appears again.

MAC GLAD.—Avaunt, and quit my sight! the desert hide

thee!

I hoped the vultures would have ta'en thy
bones;

Thou hast appeals unanswered in thy hands,
A dreadful diary.

MRS. MAC GLAD.-Think of this, good friends,

As but a thing of custom, though 'tis hard

To hear a nation's curses on his head

MAC GLAD What man dare, I dare;

Approach thou like the hated Beaconsfield,
The Salisbury, or trenchant Randolph
Churchill,

Take any shape than that, and my glib tongue
Can argue thee away! Alive again,
Thou pointest to the desert with thy sword,
And trembling I behold thee! Hark, they
call

The Grand Old Murderer! Hence, deathless
shadow

Accusing victim hence!

(Ghost disappears, and MAC GLADSTONE goes off to read the Lessons in Hawarden Church.)

H. SAVILE CLARKE, 1885,

Shakespeare's Recipe for Cooking a Beefsteak.

If when 'twere done 'twere well done, then 'twere well It were done quickly.

THE STROLLING PLAYER'S APOLOGY.

MOST potent, gay, irreverend signiors,
My very noble and approv'd good fellows;
That I have been a vagrant strolling player,
It is most true; true, I have been a mummer;
The very head and front of my profession.
Hath this extent; no more. Loud am I in speech,
And little bless'd with the smooth phrase of towns;
For since these arms of mine had seven years pith,
'Till now some nine months wasted, they have us'd
Their dearest action in the rafted barn;
And little of the theatre can I speak,
More than pertains to claps, and groans, and hisses;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause

In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver,

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KENEALY'S SPEECH TO THE SENATE.
MOST potent, grave, and reverent seigniors,
My very noble and approved good masters,
That I have pleaded long Sir Roger's cause
It is most true. True, I have muddled it;
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent; no more. Rude am I in speech,
And little blessed with the set Commons' phrase ;
For since these hands of mine held Roger's brief
Till now by Stoke elected, they have used
Their dearest action in that troubled field;
And little of this great world can I speak,

More than pertains to bearding judge and jury,

And therefore shall I little grace my cause

In speaking of myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,

I will the round unvarnished tale deliver

Of my whole course of pleading-"proofs of hair,"

Of "love maternal"-"manners most refined ”

(With such were the proceedings charged withal).

I told as records of the Claimant's life;

From year to year, with wrecks and butchering,
Passed "under the broad canopy of heaven."
I ran it through even from his boyish days
To the very moment that he bade me tell it;
Therein I spoke of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field,
Of Wagga-Wagga wandering to and fro,
And his returning as the Rightful Heir.

These things to hear
The British public seriously inclined;
And many a day did they with greedy ear
Devour up my discourse: which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour, and found the means
To start a newspaper-The Englishman-
Where all this pilgrimage I could dilate,
Whereof by parcels they had something heard ;
And oft did I beguile them of their pence,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke
Which his youth suffered. My story being done,
The judge and jury heeded not my sighs;

They said in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange, 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful;

They wished they had not said it; yea they wished
That they had never heard the Claimant's name,
And bade me, if I had a foe I hated,

Go tell him the everlasting story,

And then my client doomed to durance vile.
Then rose the readers of The Englishman,

And cried throughout the land with one accord,
Appeal to Parliament !"

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On that hint I spake

They loved me for my notoriety,

And I loved them since it did profit me-
Therefore unto this Senate I appeal,

That my lost client should at once be free!

Funny Folks, May 8, 1875.

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Iago's high-sounding words about his reputation :

"Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,

Is the immediate jewel of their souls;

Who steals my purse steals trash-'tis something,
nothing,

'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands :
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed!"

were once quoted (so Tom Ingoldsby tells us) by a country baronet at a general election. Perhaps his memory failed him, or perhaps he thought to "gild refined gold!" His version was :

"Who steals my purse steals stuff! 'Twas mine-'tisn't his- nor nobody else's! But he who runs away with my GOOD NAME, Robs me of what does not do him any good, And makes me deuced poor !"

And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!

Act III. Scene III.

This favorite passage is cleverly imitated in George Colman's Epilogue to Sheridan's "School for Scandal." Lady Teazle, who has decided to renounce Scandal, to live in peace with her husband, delivers the epilogue from which the following is an extract :

"Farewell, the tranquil mind! farewell, content!
Farewell, the plumed head, the cushioned tête,
That takes the cushion from its proper seat!
That spirit-stirring drum*-card drums I mean,
Spadille, odd trick, pam, basto, king and queen;
And you, ye knockers, that with brazen throat,
The welcome visitor's approach denote!
Farewell, all quality of high renown,

Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious town!
Farewell, your revels I partake no more,

And Lady Teazle's occupation's o'er!"

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Middle-aged Man about Town loq.:FAREWELL the quiet chop ! the kidneys poached! Farewell the grizzled bones and the mixed drinks, That made abstention virtue-O, farewell! Farewell the ready waiter, the vague bill, The nose-enlivening pinch, eye-winking smoke, The kindly hand-shake, and all quality, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of PADDY GREEN! And O you ancient Basses, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamour counterfeit, Farewell!-A fellow's occupation's gone! Punch, November 1, 1879.

Othello improved.

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SHAKESPEARE PACKING UP HIS GOODS. "I HAD been happy, if the General Thumb, Barnum and all, had bought up the old house In which I ne'er was born. But now for ever Farewell the pencil'd wall! farewell the prints, Farewell the well-thumb'd book, and all the names

* Drum.-A drum, then, is an assembly of well-dressed persons of both sexes, most of whom play at cards, and the rest do nothing at all; while the mistress of the house performs the part of the landlady at an inn, and, like the landlady of an inn, prides herself in the number of her guests, though she doth not always, like her, get anything by it."-Fielding, History of a Foundling, p. xvii;, ch. 6,

That made its pages precious! Oh, farewell! And oh you silver shillings, whose bright face Our blessed Queen's fair portrait counterfeits. Farewell! Poor Shakespeare's sole support is gone!" From The Man in the Moon, Vol. 2.

SOLILOQUY OF THE MOOR OF COVENT GARDEN.

An address supposed to be delivered by Mr. John Philip Kemble, in the character of Othello, during the famous O. P. (old price) riots in Covent Garden Theatre, which commenced on September 18th, 1809. The public objected to the increased prices charged in the new theatre, and also to the additional number of small private boxes, which were intended to be let for the year. The riots continued until December 16th, when the old prices were restored.

I had been happy if th' united House,
Pit, galleries, and boxes,—all had paid
Their money cheerily, and riot we had none.
Oh! now for ever farewell ambition's hope!
Farewell applause! and side-long glances
From the boxes, thro' the sticks of fan,
Or from behind the kerchief-veiled face.
Farewell our golden hopes of swelling bags,
And long account at banker's.

Farewell ye wanton toys of feather'd cupid
In th' anti-chambers of the private annuals!
Hark! the loud twanging of the bugle-horn,
Th' ear-piercing whistle, and terrific bell,
The plaguy placard, drum, and deafening rattle;
The voice Stentorian, and the serpent's hiss!
Sibilant,-all, all awake me

From dreams delusive of eternal triumph!
And ye, ye catcalls, of infernal sound,
Whose barbarous sounds might even split the ears
Of Belzebub himself,- -cease your horrific din,
No more the valiant Dan, with host of Israel,
Flank'd and supported by the Bow-street tribe
Of myrmidons, and bruisers squaring in the pit ;-
No more the phalanx dares to face the town.
O'erwhelm'd by numbers and determin'd hate,
No more the orders in the boxes now
Support the managers,-but placards wave,
And O. P.'s shine from every box! initials hateful;
All, all, our efforts are in vain, and fate decides
By the loud voice of the people,- irresistible,
That prices be reduced, and privacies

Thrown open

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Farewell, OTHELLO'S Occupation's gone!

The Covent Garden Journal, 1810.

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The Royal Dramatic College Annual, for July, 1868, contains an imaginary dialogue between Othello (Lord Dundreary) and Iago (Mr. Buckstone), written by Mr. T. F. Dillon-Croker. It is very amusing, but it is not strictly a parody.

WILLIAM IV. AND REFORM.

WHEN the great Reform Bill was thrown out by the Lords on May 7, 1832, the Ministry resigned, and the country was on the verge of Revolution. King William IV. who had hitherto been bitterly opposed to any Reforms, now induced the Ministers to resume office by reluctantly granting to Earl Grey full power to secure majorities, by the creation of new Peers. Henry, Lord Brougham, was then Lord Chancellor. The following parody appeared in Figaro in London, illustrated with portraits of the Puppet King ("Silly-Billy" he was styled), Earl Grey, and Lord Brougham.

THE ROYAL PUPPET.

"HERE is a representation of a puppet, the movements of which are occasioned by certain strings, which are held in the hands of persons who amuse themselves by pulling first one and then the other according as it may serve their temporary purposes. The funny little figure wriggles about first to one side and then the other just as it strikes the whim of those in whose hands he happens to be, and he is forced when acted on by them to play whatever antics they may deem desirable. One jerk may make the little fellow extend his hand in an attitude of friendship, while the next moment he may be made grotesquely to throw up his foot, as if he would kick down the very thing to which he had the moment before offered his hand, and thus he wriggles about in every sense of the word, the mere puppet of those who possess the power to play upon him. Occasionally the funny little figure is made to take part in a scenic representation, and here we give to our readers a specimen of certain interesting

STATE THEATRICALS.

The subject is chosen from Shakespeare's Othello, ani the following is the cast of the principal characters."

OTHELLO, by The Puppet.

IAGO, by Lord Brougham.

DESDEMONA, by Hibernia, the Sister Country.

It would be needless and somewhat tedious to print the whole of the well-known tragedy, -showing how Desdemona was wronged, and Othello degraded, by the cunning of Iago.

For Iago and Othello we shall for the sake of verisimilitude insert the names of their representatives, Brougham and the Puppet.

Brougham.-Look where he comes, not
Church Reform,

Nor e'en a Grant of Universal Suffrage,
Shall ever give to thee that high respect
Thou hadst but yesterday.

ENTER THE PUPPET.

Puppet.--Ha ha! pelt at me? at me?

Ballot

nor

Brougham.-Why, how now, Governor? no more of

that.

Puppet.-Avaunt! begone! thou'st set me on the rack,

I swear, 'tis better to be much abused

Than but to know't a little.

Brougham.-How now, my lord.

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