The Tragical Comedy or Comical Tragedy of Punch and Judy as told to John Payne Collier by Giovanni Piccini in 1827 - Illustrated by George Cruikshank.pdf

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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
PUNCH.
SCARAMOUCH.
THE CHILD.
COURTIER.
DOCTOR.
SERVANT.
BLIND MAN.
CONSTABLE.
POLICE OFFICER.
JACK KETCH.
THE DEVIL
TOBY.
HECTOR.
JUDY.
POLLY.
THE
TRAGICAL COMEDY, OR COMICAL
TRAGEDY,
OF
PUNCH AND JUDY.
As told to John Payne Collier
by Giovanni Piccini in 1827.
Illustrated by George Cruikshank.
E
NTER
P
UNCH
.
After a few preliminary squeaks, he bows
three times to the spectators; - once in the
centre, and once at each side of the stage,
and then speaks the following
P
ROLOGUE
.
Ladies and Gentlemen, pray how you do?
If you all happy, me all happy too.
Stop and hear my merry littel play;
If me make you laugh, me need not make
you pay.
[Exit.
Mr. Punch is one jolly good fellow,
His dress is all scarlet and yellow,
And if now and then he gets mellow,
It’s only among his good friends.
His money most freely he spends;
To laugh and grow fat he intends,
With the girls he’s s rogue and a rover;
He lives, while he can, upon clover;
When he dies-its only all over;
And there Punch’s comedy ends.
He continues to dance and sing, and then
calls “Judy, my dear! Judy!’’
E
NTER THE
D
OG
T
OBY
.
Punch.
Hollo, Toby! who call’d you? How
you do, Mr. Toby? Hope you very well, Mr.
Toby.
Toby.
Bow, wow, wow!
Punch.
How do my good friend, your mas-
ter, Mr. Toby, How do Mr. Scaramouch?
ACT 1.–Scene 1.
Punch is heard behind the scene, squeaking
the tune of
Malbroug s’en vat en guerre
: he
then makes his appearance and dances about
the stage, while he sings to the same air,
Toby,
Bow, wow, wow!
Punch.
I’m glad to hear it.-Poor Toby! What
a nice good-temper’d dog it is! No wonder
his master is so fond of him.
Toby.
[Snarls.] Arr! Arr!’
Punch.
What! Toby! you cross this morning?
You get out of bed the wrong way upwards!
Toby.
[Snarls again.] Arr! Arr!
Punch.
Poor Toby. [Putting his hand out cau-
tiously, and trying to coax the dog, who
snaps at it.] Toby, you’re one nasty cross
dog: get away with you! [Strikes at him.]
Toby.
Bow, wow, wow! [Seizing Punch by
the nose.]
Punch.
Oh dear! Oh dear! My nose! my
poor nose! my beautiful nose! Get away! get
away, you nasty dog-I tell your master. Oh
dear! dear! -Judy! Judy! [Punch shakes his
nose, but cannot shake off the dog, who fol-
lows him as he retreats round the stage.
He continues to call “Judy! Judy, my dear!”
until the dog quits its hold, and
exit.]
Punch.
[Solus, and rubbing his nose with
both hands.] Oh my nose! my pretty littel
nose! Judy! Judy! You nasty, nasty, brute, I
will tell you master of you. Mr.Scaramouch!
[Calls.] My good friend, Mr. Scaramouch!
Look what you nasty brute dog has done!
SCENE II.
E
NTER
S
CARAMOUCH
– With a Stick
Scaramouch.
Hollo! Mr. Punch! What have
you been doing to my poor dog?
Punch..
[Retreating behind the side scene,
on observing the stick, and peeping round
the corner.] Ha! my good friend! how you
do? glad to see you look so well. [Aside.] I
wish you were farther with your nasty great
stick.
Scaramouch.
You have been beating and ill-
using my poor dog, Mr. Punch.
Punch.
He has been biting and ill-using my
poor nose. – What have got there, sir?
Scaramouch.
Where?
Punch.
In your hand?
Scaramouch.
A fiddle.
Punch.
A fiddel! what a pretty thing is a fid-
del! Can you play upon that fiddel?
Scaramouch.
Come here, and I’ll try.
Punch.
No, thank you– I can hear the music
here, very well.
Scaramouch.
Then you shall try yourself.
Can you play?
Punch.
[Coming in.] I do not know, ‘til I try.
Let me see! [Takes the stick, and moves
slowly about, singing the tune of the
Marche
des Marseillois.
He hits Scaramouch a slight
blow on his high cap, as if by accident.]
Scaramouch.
You play very well, Mr. Punch.
Now, let me try. I will give you a lesson
how to play the fiddle. [Takes the stick, and
dances to the same tune, hitting Punch a
hard blow on the back of his head.] There’s
sweet music for you.
Punch.
I no like you playing so well as my
own. Let me again. [Takes the stick, and
dances as before: in the course of his dance

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