Travelled Man, who has been to Paris. "These girls can't dance, I assure you. Now, at the Châtelet they do these things differently."
Admiring Friend to Travelled Man. "What spectacles did you see at the Châtelet?"
Travelled Man, (who was in Paris only two days, and never saw even the outside of the theatre.) "It was—let me see—Oh! Moses in Egypt was the name of the piece. It was gorgeous; full of Egyptian scenery, and Egyptian dancing girls and things."
Admiring Friend, (with aggravating persistence.) "Do you mean Rossini's Moses?"
Travelled Man, (quite desperate.) "Of course! He's the rival of OFFENBACH, you know. But come, let's go and take something."
(They go, the faith of the Admiring Friend in the Travelled Man's veracity being, however, perceptibly shaken.)
Three more acts follow. ULRIC makes a dozen wishes, all of which are gratified, and all of which have the inevitable effect of transporting him into scenes pervaded by the female leg to an extent that easily reconciles him to the successive loss of five years of his life. He finally becomes King of Egypt, and, after having fought against the Crusaders in defence of those well-known Mohammedan gods, ISIS and OSIRIS, is carried down a trap by exulting demons. An Intolerable Comic Man opens up hitherto unknown wastes of dreariness, and sings a comic song that is positively more tedious than an article from the Nation. The Demoniac Servant is continually shot up through spring traps, in order to remark, "Ha! ha!" and to immediately disappear again. The Aged Mother travels from Flanders to Egypt without changing her dress or combing her back hair, for the vain purpose of begging "ULLERIC" to repent. Consumptive Knights fight terrific broad-sword duels with a thirst for combat that beer alone is subsequently able to allay. The Virtuous HEROINE displays a very neat pair of ankles, but without winning "ULLERIC" from the devil of his ways. Half a dozen ballets are successively introduced, in which the skirts of the dancers are seen to decrease as rapidly and steadily as the stripes on ULRIC'S magic collar. Finally, a grand Transformation Scene, which has nothing whatever to do with the play, exhibits the best legs of the company in the most favorable attitudes, and the green baize curtain falls upon the great spectacle of the day.
Virtuous Matron. "Well, I never! It's positively indecent. I'd like to take a whip to those shameless hussies."
Sceptical Husband. "PAGE offered me a proscenium box the other day. Suppose we take it to-morrow night?"
Virtuous Matron. "I'll go to please you, my dear. And really the scenery is pretty."