And the fresh Spirit that can warble free
Thro' prison-bars its hymn to Liberty!
The Scene next changes to a Tailor's Workshop, and a fancifully-arranged
group of these Artists is discovered upon the Shop-board--Their task
evidently of a _royal_ nature, from the profusion of gold-lace, frogs,
etc., that lie about--They all rise and come forward, while one of them
sings the following Stanzas to the tune of "Derry Down."
My brave brother Tailors, come, straighten your knees,
For a moment, like gentlemen, stand up at ease,
While I sing of our Prince (and a fig for his railers),
The Shop-board's delight! the Maecenas of Tailors!
Derry down, down, down
derry down.
Some monarchs take roundabout ways into note,
While _His_ short cut to fame is--the cut of his coat;
Philip's Son thought the World was too small for his Soul,
But our Regent's finds room in a laced button-hole.
Derry down, etc.
Look thro' all Europe's Kings--those, at least, who go loose--
Not a King of them all's such a friend to the Goose.
So, God keep him increasing in size and renown,
Still the fattest and best fitted Prince about town!
Derry down, etc.
During the "Derry down" of this last verse, a messenger from the Secretary
of State's Office rushes on, and the singer (who, luckily for the effect
of the scene, is the very Tailor suspected of the mysterious fragments) is
interrupted in the midst of his laudatory exertions and hurried away, to
the no small surprise and consternation of his comrades.
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