_First Monarch._ [Probably intended to designate Sheridan.] Why really, Madam, all I can say in my defence or that of my _Infant_ is this, that if John Bull chooses to feed on slink calf, instead of substantial roast beef, _yet consents to pay for the roast_, it is not for me to complain; but, Madam, should there be a fault laid at my charge, let me tell you it is not entirely mine; your brother here, beside me, has had _his share_ in it, and between friends, I must observe, that you have had your day; and if a good salary during this _Infant fever_ and frigid weather cannot encourage you to wear flannel, gird up your loins, and rest contented on your arm (I mean arms). I will be bound to say, you are not the woman I took you for; and rather than _be subject_ to such complaints while I _reign_ 'King of shreds and patches,' I would forego the advantages of government, and 'live on scraps at proud men's surly doors.' _Second Monarch._ [John Philip Kemble, otherwise familiarly designated _Black Jack_.] Sister, be of comfort, our friend speaks home; you may relish him more in the soldier than the scholar, but though his oratory is bad, his _argumentum argentum_ is good; his voice like mine is husky; but his _silver_ tones are delightful. It is true we have both had our day; 'our May of life is gone; 'tis fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf, and that which should accompany old age' _we have got_. 'The world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.' Public taste is similar, it is now in second childishness; and when mere oblivion takes place, then you shall make a sally, and should the Town require a _filip_,[4] I will be at your elbow. _December 14, 1804._ _The Death of Madame République._--The moribund République is stretched on her death-bed, the tricolour cockade is worn on the side of her nightcap; by the side are bottles of _Purging Mixture_ and _Laudanum_. _Vive la Liberté_ and _Vive la République_ are put out of sight; the Abbé Sièyes, as doctor, is holding the new Emperor, an infant in long clothes, the crown is on his head, a sceptre and orb are in either hand. John Bull, spectacles on nose, and with his hand in his waistcoat pocket, has stepped in; he is much astonished at the change of affairs: 'Pray Mr. Abbé Sièyes, what was the cause of the poor Lady's death? She seemed at one time in a tolerable thriving way.' 'She died in childbed, Mr. Bull, after giving birth to this little Emperor!'