Punch (102.1892)

March 26, 1892.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

153

some lately, drat them! I say, wouldn't they like to
shove us in, as they did the old witches, to see if we can
swim f

Second Ditto. By Jove! I shouldn't wonder if they
tried. Don't you think, Arthur, (valiantly) it would be
better, more manly, and more politic, perchance, to plunge
in than to be pushed f

First Ditto [drily). Ah ! just as the brave sheep—

" Committed suicide to save themselves from
slaughter.''

Second Ditto. Oh, hang your quotations! Happy
omen! 'Tis Leap Year, is it not ? Just a leap ; though,
like Derby's, it be "in the dark," and—well, we shall
know where we are, anyhow !

First Ditto. Ah, just so; and that's something !

[Left considering.

"CLERK ME NO CLERKS."

It seems Sir E. C, Q.C., likes

The blatant, brazen, Boothian band,
Admires " abstaining " zeal that strikes
The biggest drum with boldest hand.
He says, " You must not judge some others' case
By tastes much more refined," less commonplace.

Yet, as Sir Edward disagrees

With those whose tastes he thus divined,
It's manifestly clear he sees

His taste in music 's not " refined."
'Twas written long ago by Chaucer's pen,
" The gretest clerkes ben not the wisest men.'

"MY DEAB EYES! WHAT! SEE-USAN!"

At the Prince of Wales's, Mr. Arthur Roberts, as
Captain Crosstree, is more Arthur Roberts than ever,
and, consequently, immensely droll. While he is on the
stage, the audience is convulsed with spasmodic laughter,
excepting when he tries to forget himself and his drol-
lery in a loyal attempt at doing justice to Messrs. Sims'
and Pettitt's words, and to the serious business of
some situation intended to be dramatic. At such
moments the laughter of the House is checked, a sudden
gloom comes over the faces that were but now on the
broad grin, even the lineaments of Mr. Roberts become
agonised, and the audience, like Christopher Sly when bored by the
Duke's players, mutter to themselves, "would t'were done.' But
these painful seconds, which, at the time, seem hours, are, we are
glad to say, but brief and passing shadows over Mr. Roberts' own
quaint humour which speedily reasserts itself, and, the Pettitt-and-

TEMPTATION.

Hairdresser. " Any Bay-Rum, Sir?"

Middy. " Thank you—a—no ! Not quite so early in the Morning—
you know ! "

Arthur Roberts {to Arthur Williams). " The boat's getting along nicely,
now -\ve've got rid of some of the heavy cargo."

Sinis fetters being cast aside, the People's Arthur is himself again,
and more so than ever. And, when he is himself, he is simply the
most absurd person that ever faced the footlights.

Miss Nellie Stewart is a pretty singing, dancing, twisting,
twirling Susan. But what induced handsome Miss Marion
Burton, once so gay and sprightly as Cherubino in Le Nozze di
Figaro, to essay this musically dreary part of William, and, further,
to wear a costume about as unlike that of the nautical and tra

ditional William as can well be imagined, is a puzzle to anyone who racking the fertile brains of Messrs. Pettitt and Sims

knows what she has done and can do. Not a bit of dash in the cha-
racter ; all the good old conventional British Tar taken right out of
it. She can indeed say with the fool in The Yeomen of the Guard,
"I've got a song to sing, oh !" for she has two or three, but her
"voice is wasted on the desert air," as they go for nothing, and
therefore probably nobody else could make them go for anything.

Mr. Arthur Williams is funny, but his Variety Show scene,
with soliloquy and song, is too long; or rather, it would not be too
long, if the piece were only cut down to a two hours' entertain-
ment.

Let this " Comic Opera," for so is it described in the bills, be cut
down as ruthlessly, but not as blindly, as William cut down Cross-
tree ; let something catching be substituted for most of the music
of the First Act,—specially omitting the " Why, certainly ! " inter-
polation, which is a feeble but evident imitation of Mr. W. S.
Oilbert's classic " What, never ? " "Well, hardly ever ; " let the
music of the Second Act be taken out by handfuls, and, if possible,
let what remains be replaced by something sparkling; then, with
less of sweet but sad William—for the present version of the part is
quite "Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy,'"—•
with less of fascinating but squirming Susan,
far less of minor characters generally, and
more, by comparison, of the two Macs—mean-
ing the two Arthurs with the plural names
Roberts and Williams,—also a telling song
for Mr. Chauncey Olcott (whose singing
now wins an encore for an indifferent ballad),
—with the Captain's-giggy hornpipe of Mr.
Willie Ward retained, as also the graceful
dancing of Miss Katie Seymour, and then,
omitting as much of the plot and authors' A Mug of Burton,
written dialogue as can be conveniently spared,—very little of it would
be missed,—there is no rhyme or reason why Flue-Dyed Susan should
not run on as a Yariety Entertainment for any number of nights and
days, during which fresh material can be constantly substituted by
Messrs. Roberts & Co. of the Drollery Company, Unlimited, without