_dramatis personae_. Every one knows the play, and no one cares to hear
how the Uncertain People mangled it. The audience naturally took no
interest in it until the third scene of the first act was reached, and
shouts of "Long live CLAUDE MELNOTTE" were heard from behind the scenes.
After which everybody remarked, "Now he's coming," and rubbed their
lorgnettes with looks of expectation and corners of pocket-handkerchiefs.

_Enter_ CLAUDE. "Gif me choy, dear mutter, I've won the brize."

_Mother_. "Humph! What's the wally of it, my boy?"

CLAUDE. "Every thing. It is wealth--the 'ope of vame--the ambition to pe
worthier of PAULINE. Ah! I lofe her! I 'ave sent a boem to her. My
messenger ought efen now to be returned."

_Enter_ GASPAR. "CLAUDE, your verses are returned! With kicks! I could
show the marks of them, were it proper to do so in the presence of a
mixed audience!"

_Mother_. "Now you are cured, Claude."

CLAUDE. "So! I do sgatter her image to the winds. I will peat her menial
ruffians. I will do a fariety of voolish actions. What 'ave we 'ere? A
ledder? (_Reads it_.) BEAUSEANT bromises I shall marry her! Oh! refenge
and lofe! I will marry her, and pully her afterwards." (_Curtain_.)

_Young Lady, who reads Dickens_. "How sweet he is! So romantic! I do
love this sweet, lovely play so much."

_Accompanying Young Man, who regards himself a critic on the ground that