assistance; and then began what the Corinthians called a _prime spree_--viz., Billingsgate bellowings, black eyes, broken coxcombs, and rending of garments; Kitty Clutterbuck swinging his arms about like the sails of a windmill; Dionysius Dobbs shrieking and clinging to the balustrades like a monkey in hysterics; and the officers dragging at their collars in front, and twisting at their tails behind; and in this fashion they were, by degrees, _worked_ out of the theatre into the street. And then, as they had been so very obstreperous and Corinthianish, the officers determined to deposit them in the disorderly dépôt of the watch-house. In their way thither, Kitty Clutterbuck got hold of an officer's hand, and gave it such a twist that three of the fingers were dislocated, and the tendons of the wrist very seriously injured. When they got into the watch-house, Kitty conducted himself more like a mad bull than any thing else--butting and bellowing at every thing that came in his way. His honour, the nocturnal constable, therefore, ordered that he should be put down below--in the subterranean _boudoir_; but Mr. Christopher Clutterbuck blew up the boudoir, and his honour too, in good set terms, and threatened his honour, moreover, with the high displeasure of a certain noble marquis. "Tut! none of your gammon!" retorted his honour; and Mr. Christopher Clutterbuck was forthwith "quoited down stairs like a shove-groat shilling;" but not before he had grievously avenged himself on the persons of his _quoiters_. There were five of them engaged in the service, and every one of them came off halting. These matters having been duly set forth in evidence before the magistrates, they called upon the conquered constable-quelled Corinthians for their defence. Whereupon Mr. Christopher Clutterbuck, with many propitiatory deviations from the perpendicular, delivered himself thus:-- "Your worships--that is to say, your worships, I--_hem_! I beg pardon, your worships, but I don't know. It is extremely awkward--all I can say is--that is, all I have to offer is, that I--belong to--to his Majesty's service, _hem_! But unfortunately--unfortunately, your worships, have not been in the habit of being much in _town_, and--the fact is, your worships, I really don't know exactly; but this gentleman (Mr. Dionysius Dobbs) is my friend--my particular friend, and a gentleman, as you perceive--that is, he is a gentleman, I assure you. I suppose your worships, we were not in our regular senses--certainly we could not be--we were not so sober as we might have been at sometimes, I suppose; but the fact is, no doubt, I imagine, we must make amends for any damage we have done, certainly." Mr. Dionysius Dobbs said nothing. Once or twice he essayed to speak, but what he had to say stuck in his throat. So he gasped piteously; and looked unutterable things, with an aspect so droopingly lack-a-daisical, that the very officers seemed sorry for him.