Enter Romulus and Remus, fighting with boxing-gloves. The wolf knitting and looking on and encouraging.
Wolf.
Your little hands were never made
To black each other’s eyes,
And yet you do it very well
For youngsters of your size.
Keep down your guard. Good! Hit out fair,
That’s one for Remus’ nose!
Ha, Romulus, you caught it there
(Keep steady with your toes!).
Don’t lose your tempers—it’s not right.
The author’s motive in thus lightly treating the opening scenes of his hero’s career is to postpone the gloom of the tragedy to a later period.
Time! Let ’em blow a bit.
My! how I like to see ’em fight!
It sends me, in a fit.
(Has a fit and suddenly exit)
Rom. (discovering her absence).
Alas, my brother! orphans once again,
We’re left in this lone world of woe and pain.
Our step-dame’s gone, and left us no address.
What’s to be done? We’re in a pretty mess.
Rem.
Let’s sit and howl, and howl till some one hears.
You do the howling, and I’ll do the tears.
(They sit and howl for twenty minutes)
Enter Faustulus (an old, old policeman).
Faust..
Oh dear, what can the matter be?
Romulus, Remus, what can the matter be?
Remus, Romulus, what can the matter be?
Why do you sit there and howl?
You really do make such a horrible noise,
You naughty, bad, dirty-faced blubbering boys!
Why don’t you run home to your ma and your toys?
Come, clear out of this, and move on.
Rom. (screwing his knuckles into his eyes).
We ’ain’t got no home and we ’ain’t got no ma,
We ’ain’t got no notion whose childer we are,
And our old nuss has sloped without saying “Ta ta.”
Bo-ho and bo-hoo and bo-how!
Faust, (starts and drops his truncheon).
Why, these are the lost ’uns! My eyes and my stars!
Wasn’t Ilia your ma’s name, and your pa’s name was Mars?
There’s a dollar reward for who finds you, my dears!
Hurra and hurroo and hooray!
(They all rejoice and sing.)
It will be perceived that in addressing a policeman Romulus adopts a mode of speech which a person accustomed to deal with the lower orders would more readily understand than classical English.
Chorus. Oh, what a surprise!
Won’t they open their eyes?
To see us two back? Oh, and won’t they look black?
Oh, what a surprise!
Faust. The fact is, young gents, if you’ll excuse me addressing you in prose, which I ain’t a heddicated cove myself, but my gal’s ’usband’s uncle was a schoolmaster, only he caught cold in ’is eyes and went on the pension; very comfortable his place is in the harmsouses, which they do keep them neat and tidy enough to make one afeared to step over the door, and being long steps, ’tain’t so easy for an old chap as ’as spent forty-three years come next Michaelmas in the country’s service, bar six months for the dropsy and four for a broken leg, all on account of a homblibus slipping to the horf side and ketching me—
Rem. Never mind about all that. What is the fact?
Faust. Ah, I forgot. The fact is, young gents, if you’ll—
Rom. Go on, go on, or we’ll kick you.