In every corner of that city stood, Unholy shapes, and spectral scares, And fiends, and phantoms, brutal scenes of blood, And horrible nightmares. "We are shut up as in a tomb, girt round With charnel scenes on every wall; Wherever echoes of town-traffic sound, Or human footsteps fall. She cried, "By Jove, it is a pretty game That Man, the Advertiser's thrall, Should have these scenes of grimness, gore, and shame, Shock him from every wall. "The very cab-horses go wild with fears! I rather fancy it is time To stop these poster-terrors, placard-tears, And advertising crimes. "Yes, yes, pull down these pictured screens that are All dedicate to gore and guilt. _Not_ solely for Soap-vendor or Stage-star Was our big Babylon built! * * * * * VOCES POPULI. +Scene+--_A Promenade Concert. Interval between Parts I. and II. Crowd collecting before Platform_. _Highly Respectable Matron (to female Friend)_. As to being _beautiful_, it's not for me to say, but they're clean-limbed, healthy children, thank Heaven! and what more do you want? (_The_ Friend _makes a complimentary protest_.) Well, it may be so; but, to come back to her. I don't like her present home so well as I did her first--not so tasty, to my mind. She's got nice things about her, though, I _will_ say--a nice sideboard, a nice ... (_Inventory follows here_.) _The Friend (darkly)_. All the same, it's a constant wonder to me how she can ever bring herself to sleep in _that_ bed! _The H. R. M_. I couldn't myself; but (_charitably_) we've not all the same feelings. (_Crush increases; Female Promenader with very yellow hair passes, with apologies_.) "Excuse me, Madame" (_with attempt at mimicry_); ah--and she _needs_ it! The orchestra's coming back now. I didn't notice that young woman among them before--what's _she_ going to play, I wonder? _The Friend_. Whatever it is, she might look more pleasant over it! _The H. R. M_. So she might--we can't all be good-looking, but we can all be pleasant--but they wouldn't have engaged her here, if she hadn't her gift! _The Friend_. Oh, you may depend on it, she's got a gift--but I do call her plain, myself. _A Man with a very red nose (to Companion)_. And then, you see, I've this special advantage--my _immense_ knowledge of the world. Think there's time for another before they begin again, eh? [_Companion is of that opinion; adjournment to bar of house_. _Second Part begins; Lady Vocalist retiring after Song_. _First Promenader_. Brayvo! Engcore! What, she won't sing no more--sssh! [_Hisses furiously_. _The H. R. M_. There's the orchestra themselves clapping her--and _they'd_ know what's good. _Her Friend_. She was dressed very nice, I thought. _The H. R. M_. I never care to see hair done up that style myself. +On the Platform.+ _Ladies of Chorus tripping up from below Stage for the Vocal Valse_.