Act 1. Scene 1st.
(Punch—is heard below with a loud squeak: he makes his appearance from the wing on the right hand side of the stage dancing and singing. Enter Punch.)
Punch.—Good day little people—how do you do? The funniest man I ever saw was old Joe Miller. But the smartest chap among them all was Jack the Giant Killer.
The biggest thing on the ice is an Elephant—he is not a pretty bird—and never travels without a trunk. The Pig is a smaller bird—somebody shot his feathers all off.
Judy, my dear, come up stairs.
(Judy answers from below.) I am coming darling. (Enter Judy.) Judy.—Mr. Punch, did you call me?
Punch.—I should think I did—had you been here sooner you would have seen the man that lived in the "House that Jack built."
Judy.—Did you see him?
Punch.—I only saw one side of him—that is why I wanted you here—you could have stood on one side, and I on the other, and then we could have seen the whole of him at one time. He was orful!
Judy.—Mr. Punch, you are such a funny man: now let us have a nice little dance.
Punch.—With all my heart. (They join hands—bow to the audience—then to themselves and step off, keeping time with the sound of the music.)
Judy.—Mr. Punch, I am going down stairs to bring up the Baby. (Exit Judy.)
(Punch—continues to dance—a negro comes up slyly behind him and hits him a heavy blow on the side of his head, and before Punch gets a glance at him, darts out of sight. Punch scratches his head, looks about the stage—seemingly much perplexed—but is soon relieved by the appearance of Judy with the Child. Enter Judy with the Baby.)
Judy.—Mr. Punch, here is our own little darling: you hold the child while I go down in the kitchen and prepare dinner—mind you—don't you slap or pinch it, to make it cry. (He takes the Child. Exit Judy.)
(Punch sings) "It is good to be a father," etc. (He tries to make it sit up—the Child cries—he again sings.)
"Lullaby baby in the tree top,
When the wind blows the cradle will rock."
Oh, you little tu-te-tutes—pretty bird, sit up. (He takes it in his lap and tries to make it sit up.) The baby want he mamma? yes, he does. (He becomes impatient at the noise of the Child.) If you don't stop I'll give you a good spanking. (Throws the Child up and catches it.) Catchee, catchee, catchee! (Child continues to cry and Punch getting angry throws it out at the window.) He! he! he! (laughing and singing)
I am not such an ugly man!
The girls all laugh whenever they can—
And they sing, 'there goes the ugly man!'
(Re-enter Judy.) Judy.—Mr. Punch, where is the Child?
Punch.—Gone to sleep.
Judy.—(Looking around and not seeing it.) Where have you put it?—is it in the cradle?
Punch.—No my dear, I put it into the soup.
Judy.—Punch, where's that child? Tell me quickly.
Punch.—The Child cried and I dropped it out at the window.
Judy.—I'll drop you on the floor—depend upon it—where is my stick? (Exit Judy.)
Punch.—There she goes—three feet three inches and a chaw tobacco high. (He sings) "there was an old woman who lived in her shoe—shoe—shew!"
(Re-enter Judy with a stick; she comes in behind him and hits Punch a square blow on the back of the head before he is aware.)
Judy.—You monster—I'll teach you how to hold a child—you nasty puke.
Punch.—So-o-oftly—Judy my dear so-o-oftly! (rubbing the back of his head with his hands) don't be a fool!
Judy.—You'll drop my poor child out at the window will you? (hitting him continually on his head.)
Punch.—Don't Judy—stop I tell you—a joke is a joke.
Judy.—You cruel man—you think it is a joke do you—it is no joke with me to have my poor dear child beat to death! I'll show you how to use a child. (Hits him.)
Punch.—I don't want to learn—are you in earnest?
Judy.—Yes (hit) I (hit) am. (hit.)
Punch.—Leave off I tell you. What! you refuse? do you?
Judy.—I won't leave off. (Hits him.)
Punch.—Very well my lady; now comes my turn. (He snatches the stick from her, and strikes her on the head while she runs about to different parts of the stage to get out of his way.) How do you like that? old gal, and (hitting her) that?
Judy.—Mr. Punch, you ought to be ashamed of yourself to strike a woman! a helpless woman like me—get out with you.
Punch.—If a horse kicks me I'll kick him back if I can—if a dog bites me I'll bite him—you take that (hits) and one more (hits her again—she falls to the floor; Punch is alarmed.) No, no; I won't hit you again. Judy (he lifts her up) don't cry—let's make up and never quarrel again! (He kisses her, Judy puts her arms around his neck and lovingly forgives him.)
Judy.—Don't you never strike me any more.
Punch.—No never! now my dear go down stairs and take care of the baby—you be good to me and I'll be good to you. (Exit Judy. Punch sings)
I am a jolly shoe-maker my name is Dick Ale,
I am a bit of a beast for I live in a stall,
With an ugly old wife and a tortoise shell cat,
I mend boots and shoes with a rat-a-tat-tat.
(Re-enter Judy.) Judy.—Mr. Punch, have you seen Polly Hopkins?
Punch.—No I haven't seen her since she had the measles.
Judy.—Well now since you are in such good humor let us join in a nice little dance.
Punch.—Of woman kind I do admire but one and you are she my dearest dear, therefore it shall be done. (They bow to the audience, then to themselves and dance off: Punch singing the tune and both keeping time to the music. Exit Punch and Judy.)
(Enter Doctor and Servant.) Doctor.—He is not here (to the negro) Joe, you go through the house—find Mr. Punch and tell him I want to see him.
Joe.—Yes sir—I spec he is in de house. (Exit Joe.)
(Enter Punch, who is addressed by the Dr.) Dr.—Is your name Punch?
Punch.—Yes I am Punch—who are you?
Dr.—Well sir I am a Doctor.
Punch.—Why I am not sick!
Dr.—That may be—I have restored to health your little child.
Punch.—Dr. you are a good fellow. Come and see me some time when I am not at home.
Dr.—Mr. Punch, my charge for curing the child is fifty dollars.
Punch.—Sir: do you take me for the Bank of England?
Dr.—Well, to be liberal with you I will throw off one half.
Punch.—I will not be outdone in liberality—I will throw off the other half!
Dr.—Mr. Punch, if you don't pay me I will send the sheriff for you.
Punch.—(Looking for his stick—the Dr. flies for his life.) Lucky for you old chap or I would have made a pill of you.
(Enter Miss Polly Hopkins.) Polly.—How do you do sir? I am looking for the man who lived in the house that Jack built.
Punch.—(aside) Oh, good gracious what a pretty girl: in the language of Shakspear, I am the man.
Polly.—Why your name is Mr. Punch, I know you!
Punch.—Yes, (aside) how on earth did that little girl learn my name? My little daughter, there are said to be one hundred rooms in my house—but I never could find but ninety—where the other ten are I never knew. But there are about one thousand big Norway rats who live in this house—run riot all night and don't pay no rent. Three days ago I wrote on a number of pieces of papers for the rats to leave—one of these papers was put in every rat-hole in this house.
Polly.—Have they left?
Punch.—I don't hear no noise for two days—I think they are making up their minds to seek homes elsewhere.
Polly.—Did you ever catch any of them?
Punch.—Oh, yes, bless you, I made a pot-pie of big fat rats but I could not eat it. I never did like rats any way you can cook them.
Polly.—What did you do with the pot-pie?
Punch.—I gave it to my wife's poor relations.
Polly.—Mr. Punch, 'mother says you are my grandfather's great uncle—when I was a little child you promised me a dollar!'
Punch.—I remember it, that was six years ago. (He sings and dances.) It is nice to be a father. (Punch puts Polly through a course of spelling.)
Polly.—Uncle, you won't forget the dollar?
Punch.—No. Now I want you to spell sugar. (She tries and fails.) Follow me my child—now, s-u-g-a-r. (She repeats the letters but fails to tell what they spell.)
Punch.—What does that spell?
Polly.—I don't know.
Punch.—What does your mother put in her tea?
Polly.—A spoon!
Punch.—Bah! sugar my child.
Polly.—Uncle, don't forget the dollar.
Punch.—I'll not forget it—now, Polly, follow me—(he proceeds and she repeats) m-i-l-k—what does that spell?
Polly.—Sugar.
Punch.—No it don't: What do you get in your little mug every morning, when you go round the corner, for your mother?
Polly.—Whiskey!
Punch.—That will do, now go to bed. That child is more than seven years old! He starts Polly off to bed and as she makes her exit, she exclaims, Uncle, don't forget the dollar!
Punch sings—
"Polly put the kettle on we will all drink tea,
Barney let the girls alone and let them quiet be."