[Illustration: A PACKED JURY.]
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“Kiss the broad moon.”—MARTINUZZI.
Go kiss the moon!—that’s
more, sirs, than I can dare;
’Tis worse than madness—hasn’t she her man there?
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The Morning Advertiser has a paragraph containing a report of an extraordinary indisposition under which a private of the Royal Guards is now suffering. It appears he lately received a violent kick from a horse, on the back of his head: since which time his hair has become so sensitive, that he cannot bear any one to approach him or touch it. On some portion being cut off by stratagem, he evinced the utmost disgust, accompanied with a volley of oaths. This may be wonderful in French hair, but it is nothing to the present sufferings of the Whigs in England.
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THE BARTHOLOMEW FAIR SHOW-FOLKS.
Punch having been chosen by the unanimous voice of the public—the arbiter elegantiarum in all matters relating to science, literature, and the fine arts—and from his long professional experience, being the only person in England competent to regulate the public amusements of the people, the Lord Mayor of London has confided to him the delicate and important duty of deciding upon the claims of the several individuals applying for licenses to open show-booths during the approaching Bartholomew Fair. Punch, having called to his assistance Sir Peter Laurie and Peter Borthwick, proceeded, on last Saturday, to hold his inquisition in a highly-respectable court in the neighbourhood of West Smithfield.
The first application was made on behalf of Richardson’s Booth, by two individuals named Melbourne and Russell.
PUNCH.—On what grounds do you claim?
MEL.—On those of long occupancy and respectability, my lord.
RUSS.—We employs none but the werry best of actors, my lud—all “bould speakers,” as my late wenerated manager, Muster Richardson, used to call ’em.
MEL.—We have the best scenery and decorations, the most popular performances—
RUSS.—Hem! (aside to MEL.)—Best say nothing about our performances, Mel.
PUNCH.—Pray what situations do you respectively hold in the booth?
MEL.—I am principal manager, and do the heavy tragedy business. My friend, here, is the stage-manager and low comedy buffer, who takes the kicks, and blows the trumpet of the establishment.
PUNCH.—What is the nature of the entertainments you have been in the habit of producing?
RUSS.—Oh! the real legitimate drammar—“A New Way to Pay Old Debts,” “Raising the Wind,” “A Gentleman in Difficulties,” “Where shall I dine?” and “Honest Thieves.” We mean to commence the present season with “All in the wrong,” and “His Last Legs.”