The sergeant again appeared as a spirit, but was on this occasion draped in white muslin, several skirts formed of that material being wound about him, in an artistic manner. When he marched on, he could not be induced to glide, one of the audience took him for a "vestal virgin," and remarked the same to a neighbour, upon which the cook corrected him with the stinging observation that "any donkey might see it was a ghost," this sage remark producing a murmur of confirmation from her friends.
The greatest sensation of the evening was the third and last portion of the entertainment; and when the violinist appeared to announce that, "by special desire a young lady would support Mr. Thompson as Juliet," everybody rose and applauded. A sharp discussion among the audience followed, some imagining Jerry was to undertake the part of Juliet, assisted by a young lady, while to others the somewhat enigmatical speech was as plain as possible; however, the conversation served to pass away the time, and it brought forward some startling opinions.
If Thompson's rendering was correct, there must have been a wonderful similarity of voice and style between the distinguished tragedians. Be this as it may, he succeeded in delighting his audience. The fishmonger, who declared he was very intimate with the three great actors—he had seen them in the street—loudly asserting that "to his mind Jerry was more life-like than the originals." Of course, after this further criticism was superfluous.
Mary Ann had on one or two occasions, assisted at some parlour theatricals, and liked the fun immensely; so when her lover, who in her eyes appeared a greater hero than ever, requested her to take the part of "Juliet," she declared "she knew every word of it," and was dressed in a few moments.
Romeo certainly presented a most comical appearance. His lower limbs were encased in salmon-coloured hose, short blue trousers, fastened at the knee with green ribbon, purple doublet slashed with white, short cloak, and the before-mentioned dress sword. Upon his head was a lady's Leghorn hat—one of the old broad-brim period—attached to this being a crushed ostrich feather, which sometimes tilted over his eyes, and at others stuck bolt upright, his face being "got up" in a most alarming style, with cork wrinkles, moustache, and imperial.
Mary Ann being added to the company, the musicians were ordered to take up their positions on the stairs, from which elevated place they slaughtered "See the Conquering Hero comes," sandwiched artistically with "Auld Lang Syne," their numbers being strengthened by the addition of a young gentleman in stand-up collar and weak eyes, who performed on the "paperophonicon," and a fat man who was great on the drum and tea-tray. The overture to this piece strongly resembled a musical rendering of an earthquake.
Jerry made his entrance, and flattering was the greeting he received. His gorgeous costume quite took the audience by surprise, and the ladies unanimously declared "he was a duck."
After he had shouted the words "He jests at scars that never felt a wound," this being delivered in a tone of voice suitable to a deaf audience, Mary Ann, who was dressed in a lovely white silk robe, with a muslin veil fastened mantilla-like to her head, rose from behind the screen, placed her arm gingerly upon it, rested her cheek upon her hand, and at the proper time replied, "Ah, me!" in a very pathetic and creditable manner. After which she turned to her brother, who was holding her as she stood upon the chair, and observed, "Don't joggle the chair so, Alfred dear, or I shall slip off."
The performance went off splendidly. Sergeant Ross held Mary Ann quite firmly, and prompted her from a copy of Shakespeare, procured for the occasion from the library. Everything was lovely, and loud the applause that followed the delivery of each period.
Juliet had made her exit, or rather had been assisted off her perch by her brother, and Romeo was repeating the well-known lines, "Oh blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, being in night, all this is but a dream," when he suddenly stopped, gaped, made a grimace, and shouting, "Look out there!" rushed behind the screen, rapidly stripped off his costume, and resumed his sailor's attire. The audience seeing his agile exit, took it as a portion of the performance, and screamed with delight, when suddenly they were aware of the presence of an unwelcome visitor, as some one in the doorway said, "You'll find it isn't a dream, my fine fellow. Where's the cook?"