Inside the Sparring Saloon.
The Spectators are waiting patiently around the ropes; the Professor is still on the platform, expatiating on the coming contest. Joe has found a friend whom he has entrusted with his hat and coat.
Joe (to the Friend). Jest kip a heye on these 'ere, will ye!
[He hands him a huge pair of highlows.
Prof. (calling in). Fur the larst time, come outside and show yerselves, all on yer!
The Friend. You got to go out agin, Joe, better putt on yer coat an' 'at, not to ketch cold!
Joe. Ah, and I'll 'ave to 'ave they bo-oots on agen, too. (He gets into his things in a great flurry, and hastens outside.) 'Tis enough to take th' 'art out of a man, thet 'tis!
[More exhortations from Proprietor, until the last Spectator has been induced to enter the Saloon, whereupon the Champions return, and the hangings at the entrance are finally drawn.
Prof. (acting as Timekeeper). Now then, all ready? (To Joe.) In you go—What are yer waitin' for? Never mind about takin' orf yer boots! Gentlemen, Batters o' Bermondsey is agoin' to fight three rounds with a volunteer, one o' your own men. Whatever you see between 'em (solemnly), pass no remarks! Time!