Enter Peabody (Policeman).
Nutts. Well, I’m glad somebody’s come. Thought all the beards had gone out of town. Just as you come, was thinking of shuttin’ up shop and goin’ myself. Never saw the Dials so dull, Mr Peabody. There isn’t a back pair that isn’t at a watering-place.
Slowgoe. (With newspaper.) Watering-place! Pretty goings on there, I think. Here’s a letter taken from the Times, when the gentleman as writes says, “Ramsgate’s shocking. Ladies bathing with no more thought than if they was mermaids; and chairs let out at a penny a piece, for an enlightened public to sit—as if they was in the opera stalls—to look at ’em.”
Nutts. Bless my soul! Where did you say?
Slowgoe. At Ramsgate.
Nutts. You may go on. Mrs Nutts is at Margate.
Slowgoe. And the gen’leman says in his letter that the young ladies dance polkas and waltzes in their bathing-gowns; and dance and scream the more for the people looking at ’em.
Peabody. Where’s the police?
Slowgoe. That’s what the gen’leman asks. Where’s the police to put ’em down? Where’s the police to warn ’em back to the machines?
Tickle. Why not have a coast-guard with indy-rubber uniforms, to run into the water, and take the ladies up, and make an example of the ring-leaders?