That in this role you’re more than ever up a tree.
II.
There was a sound of smother’d glee that night,
And at the Lyceum was gathered then
A crowd expecting something rich and bright
The gas shone o’er stalls filled with first-night men;
The pitites coughed impatiently, and when
Music beneath the stage was heard, the swells
Began to fidget in their seats again,
And many wished the play had been the “Bells,”