"GRANDOLPHO FURIOSO!"
Mr. Punch loquitur:—
"Begone brave army, don't kick up a row!"—
Grandolpho mine, it were sheer superfluity
For you to bid your forces scatter now.
The troopers two, of curious incongruity,
With the long drummer, and the fifer short,
That formed the old stage-army were more numerous
Than is your following. You have given us sport
In many scenes, but this is hardly humorous.
The general of Artaxominous
Was far less terrible than—well, thrasonic.
To tear a thing to tatters, shout and "cuss,"
In an assembly callous and sardonic,
Savours a bit too much of sheer burlesque,
Scarce to the level of fine acting rises.
The unexpected's piquant, picturesque,
But a sound drama is not all surprises.
Thought you had taken to the "Temperance" line,
This looks much more like angry inebriety.
A little freakishness is vastly fine,
But even of surprise there comes satiety.
If you and Fusbos Jennings can't agree,
There seems small prospect of a growing Party,
Verb. sap. They thought Bombastes dead, you see.
But the finale found him up, and hearty!
Out of It.—The Amazons who doff the skirt, and don the, the—other things, can never be considered in Rotten Row as "habituées."