Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading Team. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 103. July 30, 1892. IAGO IN BIRMINGHAM. (_SHAKSPEARE ONCE MORE ON THE SITUATION._) [Illustration] _Iago_ MR. J-S-PH CH-MB-RL-N. _Roderigo_ MR. J-SSE C-LL-NS. _Roderigo._ Thou told'st me thou did'st hold him in thy hate. _Iago._ Despise me, if I did not. The great ones of the City, In personal suit to make me his Lieutenant, Off-capped to him:--and, by the faith of man, I know my price--I am worth no worse a place; But he, as loving his own pride and purposes, Evades them with a bombast circumstance, Horribly stuffed with epithets of war; And, in conclusion, Nonsuits my meditators; for, "Certes," says he, "I have already chose my officer." And who was he? Forsooth, a great Arithmetician. * * * * * That never set a squadron in the field, Nor the division of a battle knows More than a spinster; unless the bookish theorick, Wherein the toged Consul can propose As masterly as he; mere prattle, without practice, Is all his soldiership. _But, Sir, he had the Election!_ * * * * * A RESULT OF BEING HOSPITABLE. SCENE--_Small, but Fashionable Club in West-End._ _Algy._ Waiter! bring me a brandy-and-soda. Don't feel up to the average to-day. _Hughie._ Late last night? _Algy._ Yes. Went to Mrs. CRAMMERLY's Dance, Prince's Gate. Goodness knows _why_ I went! I don't think they'll get me there again in a hurry. _Charlie_ (_waking up from arm-chair_). Were _you_ a victim too? I didn't see you there! _Algy._ No. Because I probably left before you arrived. I had had enough of it in an hour, and came on here to supper; not before I had nearly poisoned myself with a concoction that old CRAMMERLY was asserting loudly, was an "'80 wine." _Charlie_ (_laughing_). Ah! my dear friend, _I_ had been there before, and knew the ropes. Took pretty good care to steer clear of the wine, and got a chap to give me a whiskey-and-soda. _Uninvited Member._ May I ask where was this charming Party? _Algy._ At the CRAMMERLY's, Prince's Gate. Colonel CRAMMERLY. _Uninvited M._ Colonel CRAMMERLY! Let's see, was he an old Crimea man? _Algy._ _No_!--He _was_ Colonel in the Bounders Green Volunteers. (_Roars of laughter._) You know "CRAMMERLY's Starch"--made a fortune out of it. _Charlie._ He must have spent a bit of it last night. They say the flowers alone cost over a thousand pounds. [Illustration] _Enter_ Captain O. _Captain O._ Talking about the Colonel CRAMMERLY Party, eh? (_To_ Uninvited M.) Were you there? _Uninvited M._ (_very satirically_). Oh, dear no! I fear I'm not smart enough to warrant my admittance into that _charmed_ and _select_ circle. [_Roars of laughter._