The Visit to the Lions.
“ Her Majesty, struck with the great skill of Van Amburgh in managing
those tremendous animals, expressed a wish to see them nearer ; and accord-
ingly, after the audience had retired, she, with several of the ladies of the
Court and the Lords in Waiting, came upon the stage.” — Newspaper
paragraph.
                        those tremendous animals, expressed a wish to see them nearer ; and accord-
ingly, after the audience had retired, she, with several of the ladies of the
Court and the Lords in Waiting, came upon the stage.” — Newspaper
paragraph.
Scene, Drury-Lane Theatre — Time, Midnight.
                        
                     
                     
                     
                        
                           Lion
                           loquitur
                           .
                           
                        
                        
                     
                     
So, the curtain has dropt,1
                           
                           And Van Amburgh is
                                 gone :2
                           
                           Well, for one night at least3
                           
                           All our floggings are done.4
                           
                           But, by Jove !  here come women,5
                           
                           And players, and pages,6
                           
                           If I play twice a-night7
                           
                           I must strike for more wages.8
                           
                        Lioness.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     I wonder what brings9
                           
                           All those odd people here ;10
                           
                           All bowing and scraping,11
                           
                           And looking so queer.12
                           
                           I insist that they leave us13
                           
                           Alone in our straw,14
                           
                           Or I’ll tell them my mind15
                           
                           With a touch of my paw.16
                           
                        Lion.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     
                     Yet the young ones are passable17
                           
                           Smart-looking things,18
                           
                           Though too slim for my taste—19
                           
                           Too much giblets and wings.20
                           
                           But they’ll plump up, and finish21
                           
                           Their tonnage in time,22
                           
                           And to wish for a change23
                           
                           In our diet’s no crime.24
                           
                        Lioness.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Lie still, you old dotard,25
                           
                           And shut your fool’s eyes ;26
                           
                           Those flirts are tough morsels—27
                           
                           So sleep, if you’re wise.28
                           
                           Do you wish for a mouthful29
                           
                           Of muslin and lace ;30
                           
                           Or a tongue that would frighten31
                           
                           The nose from your face ?32
                           
                        Lion.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     I must own, love, I feel33
                           
                           An aversion to bones,34
                           
                           I’m weary of sawdust35
                           
                           And lying on stones.36
                           
                           I’d but eat half-a dozen,37
                           
                           My appetite’s mild,38
                           
                           ’Tis but a bonne bouche,39
                           
                           I’d begin by the child.40
                           
                        Lioness.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     By the
                                 child ! why, you fool,41
                           
                           By the ghost of my dam !42
                           
                           Do you know who she is,43
                           
                           With her favourite lamb ?44
                           
                           ’Twere better you gulp’d45
                           
                           All those bedchamber lords,46
                           
                           And digested their breeches,47
                           
                           Their bagwigs, and swords.48
                           
                        Lion.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Well, let me but sup,49
                           
                           Just to send me to sleep,50
                           
                           On that plump-visaged dangler51
                           
                           Who looks like a sheep.52
                           
                           He’s fat, full, and fifty,53
                           
                           He’ll never be miss’d ;54
                           
                           Besides, he’ll disburden55
                           
                           The Queen’s civil list.56
                           
                        Lioness.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Oh Africa !  land of my heart,57
                           
                           How I grieved,58
                           
                           That I e’er from your dinners59
                           
                           And suppers was thieved ;60
                           
                           Where I lived on the choicest61
                           
                           Of fat and of lean ;62
                           
                           Now swallow’d a bullock,63
                           
                           Now bolted a queen.64
                           
                        Lion.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Or see that thin marquis65
                           
                           Who shuffles along ;66
                           
                           Now sporting a snuff-box,67
                           
                           Now humming a song.68
                           
                           A thing of bon ton,69
                           
                           Who talks nonsense for bread ;70
                           
                           With his purse like his heart,71
                           
                           And his heart like his head.72
                           
                        Lioness.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     I’ll pluck in with my paw73
                           
                           That small thing in the hat,74
                           
                           With the squeak of a weasel,75
                           
                           The soul of a rat.76
                           
                           Not a man in the nation77
                           
                           Will wish to bring back,78
                           
                           From the pit of my stomach,79
                           
                           My little Lord Jack.80
                           
                        Lion.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Yes, my dear, I’m quite wrong,81
                           
                           And you’re always quite right,82
                           
                           Yet those girls are so rosy,83
                           
                           Their shoulders so white,84
                           
                           That I feel my heart melting—85
                           
                           Now, don’t pull my ears—86
                           
                           I’ve seen no such skins87
                           
                           Since I lunch’d in Algiers.88
                           
                        Lioness.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Why, you villain !  What !  flirting ?89
                           
                           Pray look at these claws :90
                           
                           Lie down in your den,91
                           
                           Or I’ll soon give you cause.92
                           
                           
                           So—you like maids of honour !93
                           
                           Look well to your hide—94
                           
                           Sir, I have the same claws95
                           
                           That I had when a bride.96
                           
                        Lion.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Well, I give up the question—97
                           
                           My love, I knock under ;98
                           
                           So spare me a peal99
                           
                           Of the family thunder.100
                           
                           Let the Bagwigs and Bedchambers101
                           
                           Prattle and laugh ;102
                           
                           I’m resign’d, and had rather103
                           
                           Eat sawdust by half.104
                           
                        Lioness.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Have done with your nonsense ;105
                           
                           Still licking your jaws106
                           
                           At those girls—Why, you might107
                           
                           As well dine upon straws.108
                           
                        Grand Chorus of Lions, Tigers, and 
Panthers.
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     
                     Panthers.
And now, please your Majesty,109
                           
                           Having display’d110
                           
                           Such feats as throw all111
                           
                           Human brutes in the shade ;112
                           
                           Having caper’d such capers113
                           
                           As put on the shelf114
                           
                           Lord Normanby’s leg,115
                           
                           Or the Premier himself ;116
                           
                           Having bellow’d like Lansdowne,117
                           
                           And fairly devour’d118
                           
                           A meal that might almost119
                           
                           Astonish Duke Howard ;120
                           
                           Having growl’d like grim Morpeth,121
                           
                           And lain on our back122
                           
                           To be dragg’d by the paws123
                           
                           Round our den, like Lord Jack ;124
                           
                           Having shown to your ladies125
                           
                           Our heads and our tails,126
                           
                           We beg but one favour—127
                           
                           Pray, knock down these rails.128
                           
                           We’ll be honest as Whigs129
                           
                           When we get on the floor ;130
                           
                           So pull down those bars,131
                           
                           The Bar’s always a bore.132
                           
                           We’ll pluck out our teeth133
                           
                           And our talons—and then134
                           
                           You’ll have only to whistle us135
                           
                           Back to our den.136