“My Lord,” said MICAH, “no! I never, never go! What! Go and see a play? My goodness gracious, nay!” The worthy Bishop said, “My friend, no doubt The Stage may be the place you make it out; But if, my REVEREND SOWLS, you never go, I don’t quite understand how you’re to know.” “Well, really,” MICAH said, “I’ve often heard and read, But never go—do you?” The Bishop said, “I do.” “That proves me wrong,” said MICAH, in a trice: “I thought it all frivolity and vice.” The Bishop handed him a printed card; “Go to a theatre where they play our Bard.” The Bishop took his leave, Rejoicing in his sleeve. The next ensuing day SOWLS went and heard a play. He saw a dreary person on the stage, Who mouthed and mugged in simulated rage, Who growled and spluttered in a mode absurd, And spoke an English SOWLS had never heard. For “gaunt” was spoken “garnt,” And “haunt” transformed to “harnt,” And “wrath” pronounced as “rath,” And “death” was changed to “dath.” For hours and hours that dismal actor walked, And talked, and talked, and talked, and talked, Till lethargy upon the parson crept, And sleepy MICAH SOWLS serenely slept. He slept away until The farce that closed the bill Had warned him not to stay, And then he went away. “I thought _my_ gait ridiculous,” said he— “_My_ elocution faulty as could be; I thought _I_ mumbled on a matchless plan— I had not seen our great Tragedian! “Forgive me, if you can, O great Tragedian! I own it with a sigh— You’re drearier than I!” A DISCONTENTED SUGAR BROKER A GENTLEMAN of City fame Now claims your kind attention; East India broking was his game, His name I shall not mention: No one of finely-pointed sense Would violate a confidence, And shall _I_ go And do it? No! His name I shall not mention. He had a trusty wife and true, And very cosy quarters, A manager, a boy or two, Six clerks, and seven porters. A broker must be doing well (As any lunatic can tell) Who can employ An active boy, Six clerks, and seven porters. His knocker advertised no dun, No losses made him sulky, He had one sorrow—only one— He was extremely bulky. A man must be, I beg to state, Exceptionally fortunate Who owns his chief And only grief Is—being very bulky. “This load,” he’d say, “I cannot bear; I’m nineteen stone or twenty! Henceforward I’ll go in for air And exercise in plenty.” Most people think that, should it come, They can reduce a bulging tum To measures fair By taking air And exercise in plenty.