Queershanks.—One more. You've seen the "Dying Gladiator?" I think my "Prize-fighter unable to come up to time" beats it all to nothing. (Music; he does it.)
Queershanks.—That's something like sculpture, isn't it?
Manager.—Yes; but it won't do in my theatre.
Queershanks.—Won't do, sir! what do you mean?
Manager.—Why, I think the audience I wish to attract will like something better than dumb show. Good morning!
Queershanks.—I'm gone, sir; but remember you've lost me. I tell you, sir, that my statues would have made your season; but I leave you, sir, with contempt (striking an attitude). Do you know that, sir? It's the celebrated statue of Napoleon turning with contempt from the shores of Elba, which, as you know, he left because he wanted more elbow room. (Exit Queershanks with an attitude.)
Manager.—Well; each person that applies for an engagement seems to think he is the man to make my fortune for me, and gets quite angry that I won't let him have an opportunity of doing so; but I begin to see I must think for myself.
(Enter Servant.)
Servant.—A lady and two children wish to see you, sir.
Manager.—Show them in. (Exit Servant.) Some new candidates, I suppose: here they come. Ladies! they are the first that have done me the honour to apply to me.