_Mrs. Black_.—My husband, dear, what makes you look so white? My heart forebodes ’twill be a shocking night. _Black_.—Should it be so, pray don’t you be alarm’d— You know, my dear, I always go well arm’d. _Mrs. Black_.—Alas, my dear, you look as almost dead— A dreadful stone may smite you on the head. _Black_.—Suppress these fears, with tears flush in his eyes, Suppress these fears, the trembling _hero_ cries; Should in the riot your dear husband fall, The will he made conveys to you his all. So one sweet kiss! and then, I go away, ’Tis duty calls, I must my love, obey. Then for his sword the fear-struck hero cri’d— The cause demands it, so, my dear, don’t chide; His sword is brought, and buckl’d round his waist, With great precision, like a man of taste— Away he swaggers, and his hands he rubs, Looking, quite bold, like a new jack of clubs. AT SOAKER’S. _Mrs. Soaker_.—Oh, if, my dear, you must to night go out, I pray, my love, mind what you are about. _Soaker_.—My honor calls, indeed, my dearest wife! My love, my joy, my only hope, my life! And should the rebels your dear husband kill, In yonder drawer you’ll find his honest will. I must away, my dear, ’tis growing late, So kiss me love, and give me up to fate. AT SOAKER’S DOOR.—BLACK AND SOAKER MEET. _Soaker_.—At yonder corner when a man you place, Bid him stand firm, and not our cause disgrace; At that place, too, another must be fixed; Likewise a third, the interval betwixt: And the rear guard—as well as our van Must all stand firm, ay, even to a man. THE STEINE. The signal made—the blazing foe appears— Had you been there, you must have smelt their fears. The scene was grand, illumining around, You might have pick’d a sixpence from the ground; The lookers on appearing at first glimpse, Just like the Old One, and so many imps; With heart-felt joy, and truly loyal shout, ’Tis now the boys the tar tub roll about; Oh, ’twas a pity such a noble sight, Should be the signal for a bloody fight. The soaking hero runs amidst the crowd, And in a rage vociferates aloud— Patrole! d’ye hear! you’re deaf upon my soul! These villains take and lodge in the black hole! The battle rages and the missile flies, To fetch the troops the soaking hero hies; He skulks away to the sage monster’s {273} house As much alarm’d, as e’er was eat-caught mouse. AT MONSTER’S HOUSE.