by F. C. Burnand; abridged by Harry Norris

“ BOX: What colour would you have a man to be who has been setting up long leaders for a daily paper all night?
BOUNCER: Oh, certainly, Mr. Box! (Going.)
BOX: Stop! Can you inform me who the individual is that I invariably encounter going down stairs when I’m coming up, and coming up stairs when I’m going down?
BOUNCER: (confused) Oh — yes — the gentleman in the attic, sir.
BOX: Oh. There’s nothing particularly remarkable about him, except his hats. I meet him in all sorts of hats — white hats and black hats — hats with broad brims, and hats with narrow brims ”

“ My dear sir — my very dear sir — if there does exist any ingenious contrivance whereby a man, on the eve of committing matrimony, can leave this world, and yet stop in it, I shouldn’t be sorry to know it. ”

“ Luckily they’ve never met yet; for Mr. Box is hard at work at a newspaper office all night, and doesn’t come home till morning, and Mr. Cox is busy making hats all day long, and doesn’t come home till night; so that I’m getting double rent for my room, and neither of my lodgers is any the wiser for it. Now, let me put Mr. Cox’s things out of Mr. Box’s way.
BOX: (without) Pooh — pooh! Why don’t you keep your own side of the staircase, sir? (Enters — puts his head out of door again, shouting) It was as much your fault as mine, sir! I say, sir. It was as much your fault as mine, sir! ”

“ Bouncer’s, I’ll be bound. He thought to cook his breakfast while I was asleep — with my coals too — and my gridiron. Ha, ha! But where’s my bacon? (seeing it on table) Here it is! Well, ’pon my life! And shall I curb my indignation? Shall I falter in my vengeance? No! (digs the fork into the chop and throws chop out the window)
VOICE OUTSIDE: What do you think you’re doing up there?
BOX: I’m sorry, sir, it was an accident. (with fork he puts the bacon on the gridiron again) I may as well lay my breakfast things. (opens door and exits, slamming door after him)
COX: Come in — come in! ”

“ Fiddle-iddle-dum, BOX:
Fiddle-iddle-dum, COX:
Fiddle-iddle, iddle, iddle, iddle-dum, BOX:
I come by night, I come by day, I come in the morn to sing my lay; I know my notes, I count each bar, And I’ve learn’t a tune on the gay guitar. COX:
Fiddle-iddle-dum, etc., Fiddle-iddle-dum, la, la, la etc. BOX: Have you read this month’s Bradshaw, sir?
COX: No, sir. My wife wouldn’t let me.
BOX: Your wife!
COX: That is, my intended wife.
BOX: Well, that’s the same thing! I congratulate you.
COX: Thank you. You needn’t disturb yourself, sir. She won’t come here. ”