FRAGMENT OP A FARCE. 



BY AN OLD SOLDIER. 



SCENE I. COVENTRY-STREET. 



Enter Mountgarrelt. 



Mount. Confound this shooting ! 'Tis perfect porter's work ! Four 

 hours have I been upon the pave, till,, like a lazy Alexandrine, I can 

 scarce drag my slow length along and no invitation. I had my hat 

 a la Hanger too* and fished in all the likely places, but in vain not 

 a nibble. Even that, chap from the city fought shy, and his lordship 

 yes yes I'm done in that quarter. My enormous half-pay appe- 

 tite has ruined me 'tis cut, but not come again, I suspect. Curse 

 that whiff from George's. It comes over me like the sweet south, and 

 mocks my misery. Something must be done. I've a sixty-alderman 

 power, and could digest an elephant. Long's is entirely out of the 

 question, and as for the club, I've held my head so very high among 

 'em lately, that they have forgotten my face. Yes, I must e'en pre- 

 vail on my landlady to let me have a chop at home, 'tis my only re- 

 source (going*). Let me be sure though that nobody is looking. I 

 wouldn't have it known that I lodge in Windmill-street. No all's 

 right, so (steals off.} 



Enter Chipchase, Magennis, Stanley and Doctor 



Stan. I'm afraid he saw us. 



Mag. The deuce a bit. We were covered by the corner. 



Chip. Follow cautiously. He certiinly holds out hereabouts ; and 

 if we follow him to earth 



Doc. Egad, why we'll dig him out. (They follow.) 



SCENE II. A SHABBY ATTIC. 



Enter Mountgarrett. 



Mount. An old devil ! to deny me the vivres. If I didn't owe her 

 three weeks' rent a matter of fifteen shillings I'd quit her infernal 

 house this instant. Why, I shall starve die of inanition. There 

 will be a coroner's inquest upon me, and the parish must bury me. 

 Oh ! that I were a snipe and could live by suction ! or a dormouse, ye 

 gods ! to sleep six months at a stretch. Well, if I can't dine, I must 

 e'en take tea, I suppose (Arranges cups and saucers, blows Jire, puts 

 on kettle, fyc. #c.) " How are the mighty fallen !" That I, now, Flo- 

 rian Augustus Mountgarrett, late of the crack lancers, and sixteenth 

 cousin to a Scotch Earl, should be in a miserable attic here, toasting 

 my own muffin. 'Sdeath, I wouldn't be discovered in such a situation 

 for all. 



* The late eccentric George Hanger was at one period of his evenful life a 

 noted diner-out, and is said t ohave worn his hat with a particular cock when 

 disengaged, as a hint to his friends to invite him. 



