“Thus far into the bowels of the land—”
Here the figure of the uncivil gardener met his eyes, seated in the front row of the pit, and grinning like a Scotch terrier with a hair-lip. He made a full stop at this apparition! “Have we marched on,” came the word from the prompter—“Have we marched on,”—echoed Oxford. But all was mist before Richmond’s eyes, indignation was in his heart and silence upon his tongue. Unable to utter a word more, with a flourish of his truncheon he made a furious exit. “Have we marched off,” said the gallant Blunt—and stalked off with the whole army (six in number) after his heroic leader. The scene changed for Richard’s entrance.—Shame and fury battledoor’d our hero about with unmerciful rapidity behind the scenes! He split his wooden truncheon upon the scull of an unlucky lamplighter who stood in his way, and then the call boy’s awful voice was heard bidding him prepare for his second scene. This he managed to get through tolerably well, taking especial care to avoid another glance at the gardener’s fatal countenance.
All went on smoothly enough, until the scene where Richard rushes on the stage in the midst of alarums, crying out. “What ho! young Richmond ho!” Here, as ill luck would have it, Richmond could not find his fighting sword, and his confusion was so great, when Richard again roared out, “’Tis Richard calls!” Richmond rebellowed from behind the scenes, “Call and be d—d,” thinking the actor was taking an unwarrantable liberty in calling for him before so many people in such an authoritative style.
Richard. “I say come forth, and singly face me.”
Richmond, (behind) “What the devil’s the use of my coming, when I can’t find my sword?”
At length, the combatants met, Richmond having picked up a powerful weapon, instead of the short, blunt and harmless sword intended for the encounter. It was keen, long, and pointed, like a lancet—a terrible weapon in unpractised hands.
Richard. “Do you remember the cuts?” (in an undertone, with doubting fear).
Richmond. “Oh, d—n the cuts!” at the same time dealing a blow that laid open the shin of the crook backed tyrant, who, thinking it better to die at once in jest, than to be killed outright in earnest, fell down exclaiming, “Perdition catch thy arm! you’ve cut my leg open!”
Richmond. “Upon my soul, I could’nt help it!”
Richard. “But oh—! the vast renown thou hast acquired—”