The moon, a dark stage, and _Jack Ketch_ in the character of a foot-pad, now add to the romance of the drama. Not to leave anything unexplained, the hero declares, that he has cut the walk of life he formerly trod in the rope ditto, and has been induced to take to the road solely by Fate, brandy and (not salt, but) _Barbara!_ By some extraordinary accident, every character in the piece, with two exceptions, have occasion to tread this scene--"Holloway and heath near the village of Holloway" (painted from the best authorities), just exactly in time to be robbed by _Ketch_; who shows himself a perfect master of his business, and a credit to his instructor; for _Gipsy George_ rewards _Jack_ for saving him from hanging, by showing his friend the shortest way to the gallows. In the following scene, the plot breaks out in a fresh place. The man with the "gash," and _Gipsy George_ are together, going over some youthful reminiscences. It seems that once upon a time there were six pirates; four were those pendents from the gibbet at Execution-Dock one hears so much about at the commencement; the fifth is the speaker, _Gipsy George_; and "you," exclaims that person, striking an attitude, and addressing _Sir Gregory_, "make up the half-dozen!" They all formerly did business in a ship called the "Morning Star," and whenever the ex-pirate number five is in pecuniary distress, he bawls out into the ear of _ci-devant_ pirate number six, the words "Morning Star!" and a purse of hush-money is forked out in a trice. In this manner _Gipsy George_ accumulates, by the end of the piece, a large property; for six or eight purses, all ready filled for each occasion, thus pass into his pockets. The "best authorities" furnish us, next, with an interior; that of "the Mug, a chocolate house and tavern," where a new plot is hatched against the crown and dignity of the late respected George the First, by a party of Jacobites. These consist of a half-dozen of Hanoverian Whigs, who enter, duly decorated with an equal number of hats of every variety of cock and cockade. The heroine seems to have engaged herself here as waitress, on purpose to meet her persecutor, _Sir Gregory_, and her late lover, _Jack Ketch_. What comes of this rencontre it is impossible to make out, for a general _mélée_ ensues, caused by a discovery of the plot; which is by no means a gunpowder plot; for although a file of soldiers present their arms for several minutes full at the conspirators, not a single musket goes off. Perhaps gunpowder was expensive in the reign of George the First. _Jack Ketch_ ends the act with a dream--an _apropos finale_, for we caught several of our neighbours napping. The scene in which this vision takes place is the crowning result of the painter's researches amongst the "best authorities;" it being no less than "a garret in Grub-street, _in which the great Daniel De Foe composed his romance of Robinson Crusoe!!_"