[Baby cries.
Punch. (Shaking it.) What a cross boy! (He lays it down on the play-board, and rolls it backwards and forwards, to rock it to sleep, and sings again.)
“Oh, slumber, my darling, thy sire is a knight,
Thy mother’s a lady so lovely and bright;
The hills and the dales, and the tow’rs which you see,
They all shall belong, my dear creature, to thee.”
(Punch continues rocking the child. It still cries, and he takes it up in his arms, saying, What a cross child! I can’t a-bear cross children. Then he vehemently shakes it, and knocks its head up against the side of the proceedings several times, representing to kill it, and he then throws it out of the winder.)
Enter Judy.
Judy. Where’s the baby?
Punch. (In a lemoncholy tone.) I have had a misfortune; the child was so terrible cross, I throwed it out of the winder. (Lemontation of Judy for the loss of her dear child. She goes into asterisks, and then excites and fetches a cudgel, and commences beating Punch over the head.)