Rowlandson the Caricaturist; a Selection from His Works. Vol. 2 by Joseph Grego

young Roscius, as an infant prodigy, is flying over the back of Kemble, both the performers being dressed in the habit then customary for Hamlet--'Alas!' cries Kemble, 'is it come to this? Ah, woe is me! seeing what I have seen, seeing what I see! O Roscius!' _December, 1804._ _Melpomene in the Dumps, or Child's Play defended by Theatrical Monarchs._ Published by Ackermann, Strand.--Mrs. Siddons in tragic swathings, one arm resting on a table, her other hand extended in an interlocutory attitude, while her foot is resting on a stool; on the table are books--_Salary Benefits_, _The Rights of Woman_, and _The Duty of Man_. On the wall is hung Bunbury's _Propagation of a Lie_. John Philip Kemble is resting his hand on her shoulder, and another gentleman, hat in hand, is pointing with his finger to a shorter figure, probably intended for the person of Colonel Topham, Editor of _The World_, '_More Soldier than Scholar!_' THE DEBATE OR ARGUMENT. _Melpomene._ And pray, Mr. Monarch, how long am I to be confined to this _box fever_, or nervous rheumatism in my loins? A pretty business you have made of this season; what between your _Blind Bargain_ and _Infant Roscius_, you think to send me to the ground; but let me caution you, that 'if once I do but stir or lift this arm, the best of you shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know how this foul rout began, who set it on, and he that is approved in the offence, though he hath twinned with me, _both at a birth_ shall lose me.' _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!'