Bentley's Miscellany, Volume II

For I must forget I have loved.
You tell me you wed her to-day,
I thank you for telling the worst;
Adieu then! to horse, and away! —
But, hold! – let us drink her health first!

II

"Alas! I confess I was wrong
To cope with so charming a knight;
Excelling in dance, and in song,
Well-dress'd, debonnaire, and polite!
So, putting all envy aside,
I take a new flask from the shelf;
Another full glass to the bride,
And now a full glass to yourself.

III

"You'll drink a full bumper to me,
So well I have borne my defeat?
To the nymphs who the bridemaids will be,
And to each of the friends you will meet.
You are weary? – one glass to renew;
You are dozing? – one glass to restore;
You are sleeping? – proud rival, adieu!
Excuse me for locking the door."

IV

There's a fee in the hand of the priest!
There's a kiss on the cheek of the bride!
And the guest she expected the least
Is He who now sits by her side!
Oh, well may the loiterer fail,
His love is the grape of the Rhine;
And the spirit most sure to prevail
Was never the spirit of wine.

LOVE IN THE CITY

TO THE PUBLIC

In the prefatory observations I thought advisable to make when placing "Love in the City" before the world, I stated that my chief aim was the restoration of the drama to its pristine purity by avoiding those unnatural and superhuman agencies which modern writers have so extensively indulged in. Opposing myself thus, to innovation, I have ventured on one of the boldest changes in dramatic arrangement, by postponing the performance of the overture until the commencement of the second act. Having thus admitted my offending, I trust that, when the reasons which induced it are explained and understood, I shall have justified this daring step, and obtained a verdict of public acquittal.

Is there a frequenter of our theatres on a first night whose musical sensibilities have not been lacerated by the noise and tumult incidental to a crowded house? Let him achieve by desperate exertion a favourable place in the undress circle, – suppose the theatre crammed to the pigeon-holes, the orchestra already tuned, and every eye bent upon the leader, awaiting his premonitory tap; – then, when the nervous system should be quiescent, the ear open to receive delicious sounds, the heart ready to expand itself into harmonious ecstacy, – at that very moment of rapturous expectation has not his tranquillity been annihilated by pinching him in the ribs to acquaint him that he is "sitting on her boa!" While, from that "refugium peccatorum," the shilling gallery, infernal cries of "Down in the front!" "Music!" "Curse your pedigree!" "Hats off!" "How's your mother?" drown even the double-drums, and render the overture inaudible from the opening crash to the close.

"Some giggling daughter of the queen of love"

To remedy this nuisance, – to allow the excited feelings of an overcrowded house to subside sufficiently to enable the audience, by presenting them with the first act, to judge how far the music of the overture is adapted to the business of the stage, – these considerations have induced me thus to postpone its performance, and with what success the public will best decide.

Another, and a more agreeable duty, now devolves upon me, – to express my ardent thanks to all and every to whom this drama is in any way indebted for its brilliant and unparalleled success. To Messrs. Flight and Robson; the commanding officers of the Foot and Fusileer Guards; the King of the Two Sicilies; the Hereditary Prince of Coolavin; and his serene highness the Duke of Darmstadt, I am eternally grateful. To the performers, male and female, the composers, the orchestra at large, scene-painters and scene-shifters, prompters and property-men, box-keepers and check-takers, sentries and police, I present my heartfelt acknowledgements. And to the most crowded and fashionable audience that ever graced a metropolitan theatre, I shall only say, that the rapturous and reiterated plaudits bestowed upon this drama shall never fade from the recollection of their most devoted, very humble, too fortunate, and ever grateful servant,

    The Author.

July 1, 1837.

LOVE IN THE CITY;

OR, ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

A MELODRAMATIC EXTRAVAGANZA

Act II

Grand Overture, – composed jointly by Spohr, Haynes Bayly, Newkom, and Rossini, and performed by the largest orchestra ever collected in a European theatre, assisted by the Duke of Darmstadt's brass band, and the entire drums of the Foot and Fusileer Guards.

In the course of the overture the following novelties will be introduced.

A duet upon the double-drums with one stick only, by Mons. Tambourette, Member of the Legion of Honour, K.T.S., and drum-major to the King of the Two Sicilies.

Planxty Mac Swain, and "What have you got in your jug?" with brilliant variations for the Irish pipes, by Kalkbrenner, – Mr. Patrick Halligan, Minstrel in ordinary to the Prince of Coolavin.

A capriccio on the German flute, by a distinguished amateur, who has lost four fingers and a thumb.

A grand fantasia (Henry Hertz) on one piano by eight performers.

Director, Sir George Smart.

Conductor, on The Apollonicon, – lent to the lessee for that night only, – Mr. Purkis.

Leader, Mr. T. Cooke,

The overture having been twice encored, bell rings, and curtain draws up

Act II. – Scene I

A public-house, "Black Horse," in the Borough. A tap-room. Mags and Poppleton discovered drinking "heavy wet." Mags rather fresh, and Poppleton evidently the worse of liquor. Mags, after a long pull, deposits the pot upon the table.

Pop.– Now for your news, Mags.
Mags. I told you, worthy Pop,
That Stubs and Smith put keepers on the shop.
Pop.– And how's our missus?
Mags. Why, hearty, when last seen
With a Life-Guardsman, crossing Turnham-green.
Pop.– And honest Snags?
Mags (with emotion). Ah! would that epithet were true,
Or I could keep the sad details from you!
Snags is not honest!