Time--old Time--sighing is vain,
Pleasure from thee not a moment can gain;
Fly, old greybeard, but leave us your glass
To fill as we please,
And drink at our ease,
And count by our brimmers the hours as they pass.
* * * * *
THE DRAMA
ROMEO AND JULIET.
Italy! land of love and maccaroni, of pathos and puppets--tomb of Romeo and
Juliet--birth-place of Punch and Judy--region of romance--country of the
concentrated essences of all these;--carnivals--I, PUNCH, the first and
last, the alpha and omega of fun, adore thee! From the moment when I was
cast upon thy shores, like Venus, out of the sea, to this sad day, when I
am forced to descend from my own stage to mere criticism; have I preserved
every token that would endear my memory to thee! My nose is still Roman, my
mouth-organ plays the "genteelest of" Italian "tunes"--my scenes represent
the choicest of Italian villas--in "choice Italian" doth my devil swear--to
wit, "_shal-la-bella!_"
Longing to be still more reminded of thee, dear Italy, I threw a large
cloak over my hunch, and a huge pair of spectacles over my nose, and
ensconced myself in a box at the Haymarket Theatre, to witness the fourth
appearance of my rival puppet, Charles Kean, in Romeo.
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