_An Orator (leaping suddenly on parapet)._ Feller Citizens, are you _Men_ that you stand by with folded 'ands, while unlimited food and wealth lays within a stone's throw? I want yer---- _Constables (behind)._ Ah, and we want _you_--off you go! [_Disappearance of Orator in direction of Police-station._ _Lover of Liberty._ Shame! Is a man to be punished for his opinions? Oh, England, England! _Person in Search of Sensation (disappointedly)._ Well, there doesn't seem much doing,--so far. _Squalid Vagabond (recognising_ Stalwart Constable, _whom he has apparently met before in a professional capacity_). 'Ow _are_ yer, pretty bobbish? [_Nods to show he bears no malice._ _Stalwart C. (good-humouredly)._ I'm much as usual, thankee. _Companion Constable (to S. C.)._ Well, you _do_ know some rough 'uns, I must say! _Stalwart C._ Go on--that gentleman's a West-Ender. _Professional "Hook" (to line of Policemen)._ So _you_'re 'ere, are you? Well, me and my pal must take _our_ little prominade some hother arternoon, that's all! _Sympathiser (to Loafer)._ And so you've actually been out of employment since last January? Monstrous! The Government ought to find you work! _Loafer._ Jes' what _I_ say, Guv'nor. Let 'em gimme work, and I'll _do_ it fast enough. _I_ don't want ter be idle. I ain't on'y my one trade to earn my bread by--but I'll work at that, if I'm let! _Sympathiser._ Exactly, my poor fellow, and what _is_ your trade? _Loafer._ Why, I'm a skate-fastener, I am; puts on parties' skates for 'em,--and 'ere I am--not 'ad a job for months! _Truculent Ruffian (to Quiet Observer)._ Hunimployed? _Quiet Obs._ Yes--at present. _T. R._ Too many o' them bloomin' Coppers about, to _my_ mind--I'd like to slug the lot--they're the ruin of _our_ bisness! _Quiet Obs._ Ah, you're right _there_! _Demagogue (to Police Sergeant)._ Now, don't you interfere--that's all _I_ ask. _I'll_ speak to them--I have them thoroughly in hand just now, but, if you offer them the least opposition, I--(_with much solemnity_) well, I won't be responsible for what happens. (_He is allowed to address the multitude._) Friends, you are met here in this peaceful but imposing manner in the teeth of a brutal and overbearing Constabulary, to show the bloated Capitalists, who are now trembling behind their tills, that we mean to be taken seriously! Yes, in our squalor and our rags---- [_Throws open frock-coat, and displays thick gold watch-chain._ _Mob._ Yah, pitch us over yer red slang! take orf that ere nobby coat! Harristocrat! Yah! _Dem. (complacently)._ It is true that I myself am not in absolute destitution.--But what of that, my friends? Can I not _feel_---- [_Here a turnip strikes him in the eye. Yells of "Down with him!" "Duck him!" "Spy!" "Traitor!" Mob pulls him down and attempts to take him to pieces._ _Dem. (faintly)._ Here, hi, Policemen, help! Why the devil don't you use your staves? [_Is rescued and assisted home by Police._