Scene—An Open Space. Rain falling in torrents. An Indignation Meeting is being held to protest against the Royal Grants. The Chairman presides at a small portable reading-desk, generally alluded to as The "Nostrum"; a ring of more or less Earnest Radicals, under umbrellas, surround him. Speakers address the Meeting in rapid succession; a Man with a red flag gives it a sinister wave at any particularly vigorous expression. Her Gracious Majesty the Queen is repeatedly described as "this mis-rubble ole bein'," an Archbishop is invariably mentioned as an "Arch-rogue," while the orators and the audience appear from their remarks to be the only persons capable of worthily guiding this unhappy Country's destinies. Policemen in couples look on from a distance and smile indulgently.

An Orator (bitterly). The weather is against us, Feller Republikins, there's no denyin' that. As we were tramping along 'ere, through the mud and in the rain, wet to the skin, I couldn't 'elp remarking to a friend o' mine, that if it had been a pidging-shootin' match at Urlingham, or a Race-meeting at Hascot, things 'ud ha' been diff'rent! Ther'd ha' bin blue sky and sunshine enough then. Well, I 'spose hany weather's considered good enough for the likes of hus! Hany weather'll do for pore downtrod slaves to assert their man'ood and their hindependence in! (Cries of "Shame!") Never you mind—hour turn'll come some day! We sha'n't halways be 'eld down, and muzzled, and silenced, and prevented uttering the hindignation we've a right to feel! (Bellowing.) We shall make our vices 'eard one day! But I'm reminded by my friend as I've got to keep to the pint. Well (he composes his features into a sneer) I'm told as 'ow 'Er Most Gracious Madjesty—("Booing" from Earnest Radicals)—'Er Most Gracious Madjesty—'as she calls 'erself—'as put by a little matter of a millum an' a 'arf—since she came to the Throne. Now, Feller Republikins, that millum an' a 'arf 'as come out of your pockets!

Several Persons (who do not look as if they paid a heavy income tax). 'Ear 'ear!

Orator. Yes, it belongs to the People—ah! and you've a legal right to demand it back—a legal right! And I arsk you—if that millum and a 'arf of money was to be divided among the Toilers of London ter-morrow—'ow many Hunemployed should we see? (Crowd deeply impressed by this forcible argument.) Yet we're arst to put our 'ands in our pockets to support the Queen's children!

A Gentleman with very short hair. Shame—never! [Puts his hand in somebody else's pocket by way of emphasising his declaration.]

Orator. Feller Republikins, if a Queen don't do the work as she's paid for doin' of, what ought to be done with 'er? I put it to you!

A Very Earnest Radical. The Scaffild!

[Looks round nervously to see if a Policeman is within hearing.

A Fat Lady (who has been ejaculating. "Oh, it is a shime, it is!" at every fresh instance of Royal expenditure). Well, I must say that's rather strong langwidge!

Another Orator. Gentlemen, I regret to say that, on this monstrous fraud and attempted imposition known as "The Royal Grants Bill," Mr. Gladstone voted with the Government. [Frantic applause.

Orator (puzzled). Yes, Gentlemen, I am here to state facts, and I am ashamed to say, that on this single occasion Mr. Gladstone—went wrong. [Shouts of "No! No!"

A Fervid Gladstonian (waving his umbrella). Three cheers for Mr. Gladstone, what-hever he does!

[The Crowd join in heartily; Orator decides to drop the point, particularly as it does not seem to affect the Meeting's condemnation of the principle of the Bill.

An Irish Patriot. I've often harrd tell, Gintlemen, of a certain stra-ange animal they carl a "Conservative Warkin-Man" (Roars of laughter). A Warkin-Man a Conservative! Why, bliss me sowl, the thing's absurd! There niver was such a purrson in this Warld. A Conservative Warkin-Man! why—(takes refuge in profanity). If there was why don't we iver hear 'um in an assimbly of this sort? Why hasn't he the common manly courage to come forward and defind his opinions? We'd hear 'um, Gintlemen. It's the proud boast of Radicals and Republikins that they'd give free speech and a fair hearin' to ivery man, no matter hwhat his opinions are, but ye'll niver see 'um stip farward at ahl—and hwhy?

A Decent Mechanic. Well, look 'ere, mate, I'm a Conservative Working-Man, if ye'd like to know, and I ain't afraid to defend my opinions. Come now!

The Chairman (somewhat taken aback). Well, Friends, while I conduct this chair, I can promise this man a puffickly fair 'earin', and I'm sure you will listen to him patiently, whatever you may think of his arguments. (Cries of 'Ear—'ear! "Fair play hall the world hover!" "We'll listen to him quiet enough!") First of all, I must be satisfied that our Friend is what he professes to be. We want no Sham Workin'-men 'ere. [Brandishes a foot-rule in evidence of the genuineness of his own claims.

The D. M. Am I a workin'-man? Well, I've made ladies' boots at sixpence an hour for three years—d'ye call that bein' a Workin' Man? I've soled and 'eeled while you wait in a stall near Southwark Bridge seven years an' a arf! Praps you'll call that a Workin'-Man? (Cries of "Keep to the Point!") Oh, I'll keep to the point right enough. There's this Irishman here been a tellin' of you 'ow wrong it is to turn his countrymen out of their 'ouses when they don't pay their rent. Ain't we turned out of our 'ouses, if we don't pay ourn? 'Oo snivels over hus?

The I. P. No personalities now! It's my belief ye're a Landlord yerself! [Uproar.

The D. M. I told yer ye wouldn't 'ear me now!

A Socialist (in a stentorian voice). Feller Demmercrats, as an ex-Fenian and an ex-Convict, I implore you—give this man a hearin'!

The D. M. Then about this Royal Grant. (Cries of "Shut up!" "Go 'ome!" "Don't tork nonsense!") If you're going to 'ave a King and Queen at all—(Cries of "We ain't! Down with 'em!") Ah, then I s'pose you're going to put up fellers like 'im (pointing to the Socialist), and 'im (pointing to Chairman), and 'im! [Uproar.

The Socialist. Fellow-Citizens, I appeal to you, give this man rope—he's doing our work splendidly!

The D. M. Well, all I've got to say is——(Shouts of "Get down!" Yells and booing). Oh, you won't tire me out that way. All I can say is, I'd a precious sight rather——

The Chairman (excitedly). Fellow citizens, we've listened to this man long enough—these sentiments are an insult to the meeting!

[Yells as before.

The Socialist (extending a billycock hat with a passionate gesture). Feller Demmercrats, if you are earnest, if you are sincere in the indignation, the just hindignation, this man provokes—show it now, by putting money in this 'at for the Plan o' Campaign! [The storm lulls.

The D. M. (resuming). I arsk every honest man here whether——

Chairman (interposing). I think, as our friend here don't seem able to keep to his point, we won't call upon him for any further remarks.

[The D. M. is hustled down, amidst derisive cheers and groans; the Socialist ascends the Platform.

The Socialist. I don't mind tellin' yer, friends and feller citizens, that in the late election in Heast Marylebone, I used all my influence—(cheers)—all my influence to deter men from voting for your Radical candidate. (Sensation, and a cry of "More shame for yer!") Ah, I did, though, and I'd do it agin, and I'll tell yer for why. I 'ate yer Tories, but if I'm to be 'it a blow in the face, I don't like it done behind my back. (Cheers). And your precious Liberals and Radicals, they're worse nor hany Tories, and for this reason—(with a penetrating glance)—they're more hinvidious! Ah, that's it, they're more hinvidious! Traitors, hevery man jack of 'em!

[And so on, concluding with denunciations of all "sending round the 'at," and appeals for contributions to the Plan of Campaign. Meeting dissolves with three cheers for the coming Republic from the victims of a Tyrannous System of Repression of Opinion.