Room! Room! for great Cecil!—place, place for his Dame!— Room! Room! for Southampton—for Sidney, whose name As a Preux Chevalier, in the records of Fame, "Beats Banagher"—e'en now his praises, we all sing 'em, Knight, Poet, Gentleman!—Room! for sage Walsingham!—
Room! for Lord Hunsdon!—for Sussex!—for Rawleigh!— For Ingoldsby!! Oh! it's enough to appal ye! Dear me! how they call! How they squall! how they bawl! This dame has lost her shoe—that one her shawl— My lord's got a tumble—my lady a fall!— Now a Hall! a Hall! A Brawl! a Brawl! Here's my Lord Keeper Hatton, so stately and tall! Has led out Lady Hunsdon to open the Ball!
Fiddlers! Fiddlers! fiddle away! Resin your catgut! fiddle and play! A roundelay! Fiddle away! Obey! obey!—hear what they all say! Hip!—Music!—Nosey!!—play up there!—play! Never was anything half so gay As Sir Christopher Hatton's grand holiday!
The clock strikes twelve!—Who cares for the clock? Who cares for——Hark!—What a loud Single-knock! Dear me! dear me! Who can it be?— Why, who can be coming at this time of night, With a knock like that honest folk to affright?— "Affright?"—yes affright!—there are many who mock At fear, and in danger stand firm as a rock, Whom the roar of the battle-field never could shock, Yet quail at the sound of a vile "Single-knock!" Hark!—what can the Porter be thinking of?—What!— If the booby has not let him in I'll be shot!— Dear me! how hot The room's all at once got!— And what rings through the roof?— It's the sound of a hoof!— It's some donkey a-coming upstairs at full trot! Stay!—the folding-doors open! the leaves are thrown back, And in dances a tall Figurant—all in black!!
Gracious me what an entrechat! Oh, what a bound! Then with what an a-plomb he comes down to the ground! Look there! look there! Now he's up in the air! Now he's here!—now he's there—now he's no one knows where!— See! see!—he's kick'd over a table and chair! There they go!—all the strawberries, flowers, and sweet herbs, Turn'd o'er and o'er, Down on the floor, Ev'ry caper he cuts oversets or disturbs All the "Keen's Seedlings" and "Wilmot's Superbs!" There's a pirouette!—we're All a great deal too near! A ring!—give him room or he'll "shin" you—stand clear! There's a spring again!—oh! 'tis quite frightful!—oh dear! His toe's broke the top of the glass chandelier!! Now he's down again!—look at the congees and bows And salaams which he makes to the Dame of the House, Lady Alice, the noble Lord Treasurer's spouse! Come, now we shall view A grand pas de deux Perform'd in the very first style by these two —But no!—she recoils—she could scarce look more pale if Instead of a Beau's 'twas the bow of a Bailiff!— He holds out his hand—she declines it, and draws Back her own—see!—he grasps it with horrid black claws, Like the short, sharp, strong nails of a Polar Bear's paws!!
Then she "scream'd such a scream!" Such another, I deem, As, long after, Miss Mary Brown[84] scream'd in her dream. Well she might! for 'twas shrewdly remark'd by her Page, A sharp little boy about twelve years of age, Who was standing close by When she utter'd her cry, That the whole of her arm shrivell'd up, and grew dry,
THE HOUSE-WARMING.