Reverend Magistracy
A CARICATURE, VERY LIKE
Scene — A passage to a Court of Justice. Enter from his tea and toast, a Reverend Magistrate, walking up with his stately body of divinity through an avenue of half-starved weavers, &c. As he goes along, he looks numberless eloquent things on each side of him; which the hunger-sharpened acuteness of the multitude thus understands:
Y ES , blackguards; it is E THELSTONE ;
And whosoever saith he'll stun
Your ears is right. To death he'll stun
All traitors.
For he's the first of Justices;
And nothing but mere dust he sees
In those who eat dry crustises
And 'tatoes.
Yes, rabble; I am Reverend;
My loyal sermons never end;
And yet they have a clever end,
Ye rogues ye!
And if there 's any one of ye
Shall giggle, I'll make fun of ye,
Ay, every mother's son of ye,
Ye dogs ye!
Scene 2nd — The Court. Two suspected Reformers are brought in for an assault; one of whom is discharged for want of evidence; while the other denies having committed the assault, though he allows he was on the spot where it was said to have taken place.
I fancy you're a downright — eh —
Blackguard, who'd set the crown right — eh —
And what is more, my gown right — eh —
And bottle.
D'ye know what'll become of ye,
All the Reforming scum of ye?
The gallows waits for some of ye!
Ye'll throttle!
Here two more men are brought in on a similar charge.
What, two more, eh? I'll scoff ye, Sirs. Attendants .
Lord, no, Sir! These are officers. Ethelstone .
Oh, I beg pardon. Coffee, Sirs,
To wake me. Attendants .
And here 's another score of 'em;
Deny, Sir, all that's swore of 'em. Ethelstone .
Of course. I'll hear no more of 'em,
Deuce take me
The police-officers are dismissed; and the assaulted man dies a few days afterwards.
Three poor boys, of very tender years, are brought in by a police-officer, for sleeping in brick-kilns. Ethelstone .
Brick-kilns! Oh, ho! you'd warm it, eh?
Why, what a gross enormity!
What spiritual deformity!
It's hell-like.
The loyal wants no weather-bed,
Hot brick-kiln or hard heather-bed;
But lays him on his feather-bed,
All swell like.
The mother of one of the boys entreats forgiveness for him, telling the Reverend Magistrate that the boy is a very good little boy, and that she has a numerous family. Ethelstone .
If there 's no room to sleep at home,
Or if with cold ye creep at home,
Yet still they'd all best keep at home;
Mind that now:
For if they're still caught tripping; eh —
I'll order them a stripping, eh —
And then a good warm whipping, eh —
That's flat now.
[ Aside ] Comfort 's no poor man's business;
He ought to place all his in us;
Pay tithes, and leave off quizzing us,
Nor gall thus:
But if they will thus generate,
Like those they ought to venerate,
They must be thinned at any rate,
Says M ALTHUS .
Scene — A passage to a Court of Justice. Enter from his tea and toast, a Reverend Magistrate, walking up with his stately body of divinity through an avenue of half-starved weavers, &c. As he goes along, he looks numberless eloquent things on each side of him; which the hunger-sharpened acuteness of the multitude thus understands:
Y ES , blackguards; it is E THELSTONE ;
And whosoever saith he'll stun
Your ears is right. To death he'll stun
All traitors.
For he's the first of Justices;
And nothing but mere dust he sees
In those who eat dry crustises
And 'tatoes.
Yes, rabble; I am Reverend;
My loyal sermons never end;
And yet they have a clever end,
Ye rogues ye!
And if there 's any one of ye
Shall giggle, I'll make fun of ye,
Ay, every mother's son of ye,
Ye dogs ye!
Scene 2nd — The Court. Two suspected Reformers are brought in for an assault; one of whom is discharged for want of evidence; while the other denies having committed the assault, though he allows he was on the spot where it was said to have taken place.
I fancy you're a downright — eh —
Blackguard, who'd set the crown right — eh —
And what is more, my gown right — eh —
And bottle.
D'ye know what'll become of ye,
All the Reforming scum of ye?
The gallows waits for some of ye!
Ye'll throttle!
Here two more men are brought in on a similar charge.
What, two more, eh? I'll scoff ye, Sirs. Attendants .
Lord, no, Sir! These are officers. Ethelstone .
Oh, I beg pardon. Coffee, Sirs,
To wake me. Attendants .
And here 's another score of 'em;
Deny, Sir, all that's swore of 'em. Ethelstone .
Of course. I'll hear no more of 'em,
Deuce take me
The police-officers are dismissed; and the assaulted man dies a few days afterwards.
Three poor boys, of very tender years, are brought in by a police-officer, for sleeping in brick-kilns. Ethelstone .
Brick-kilns! Oh, ho! you'd warm it, eh?
Why, what a gross enormity!
What spiritual deformity!
It's hell-like.
The loyal wants no weather-bed,
Hot brick-kiln or hard heather-bed;
But lays him on his feather-bed,
All swell like.
The mother of one of the boys entreats forgiveness for him, telling the Reverend Magistrate that the boy is a very good little boy, and that she has a numerous family. Ethelstone .
If there 's no room to sleep at home,
Or if with cold ye creep at home,
Yet still they'd all best keep at home;
Mind that now:
For if they're still caught tripping; eh —
I'll order them a stripping, eh —
And then a good warm whipping, eh —
That's flat now.
[ Aside ] Comfort 's no poor man's business;
He ought to place all his in us;
Pay tithes, and leave off quizzing us,
Nor gall thus:
But if they will thus generate,
Like those they ought to venerate,
They must be thinned at any rate,
Says M ALTHUS .
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