Punch, Or the London Charivari Volume 107, November 24, 1894

A THRILLING MOMENT; OR, GO IN AND WYNN.
The Rev. Stephen Wynn startled by a Woman with a good many Tails about her!
Says Mrs. Patrick Campbell, Wasn't I a quite first ranker, eh? As A. Pinero's— the Pinero's— Second Mrs. Tanqueray? We know that reputations great have often been, and are made, By such a part, but not by Mister Arthur Jones's barmaid. Though then there was a chance when both the men began to gamble; Yet—no—I never cared for it, quoth Mrs. Patrick Campbell. When at the T. R. H. I feared, and so did Mr. Tree, That Haddon Chambers hadn't an apartment fit for me. Kate Cloud is rather hazy; but they said 'there will for you be bus , ' (Theatrical for 'business')—which seems to me in nubibus . For I'm a shady heroine of squalor not romance, For passion and emotion I have barely got a chance.
I'm in a yacht both first and last, and what becomes of me I am not very certain, and no more is Mr. Tree, As at the finish both of us are thoroughly at sea. For the villain there's Charles Cartwright, and, speaking for myself, I Preferred him when, more villainous, he was at the Adelphi. They talk a deal of Pat-mos (a name that sounds like two), A mixture of Hibernian that's 'Pat' with 'Moss,' He- brew , This coupled too with John-a-Dreams ,—of course there's no offence Intended, yet it has a smack of some irreve rence . The play's successful to a point, the critics say 'no doubt of it,' But were I Mister Tree I would cut thirty minutes out of it. I finish with no postscript, I commenced with no preamble, And sign myself devotedly, your Paula Patrick Campbell.
UNDER A CLOUD; OR, AN OXFORD (COMPACT) MIXTURE.
Harold and Hubert were two pretty men, Puzzled by plot when the clock strikes ten. Up jumps Harold, A cloud in the sky! Comrade! cries Hubert, how's that for high?
( By One who prefers the Old. )
Soft hair that ripples like a lake What time the water-lilies wake, Fair rosy cheeks and eyes of blue, Clear windows that the soul sees through, A moving grace, a brow of snow: Such were the girls we used to know.