The Nevada journal., 1855-10-19
Shakespeare Run Mad.

tAe Il Hourteenth w ard. The officer could
not determine whether he was intoxicated
or crazy, but as he said he had no home,
ne was taken in charge as vagrant. He
mad been traversing the streets with folded
arms, talking to himself in odd bits o.
plays and poems. He possessed facility
OF quotation equal to Richard Swiveller
Esq, but he was as reckless about the
exaotltude Of his extracts, and jumbled up
his authorities with as much confusion as
Captain Cutie himself He seldom gave
a quotation right, but would break of his
own in the middle, and substitute some
words OF his own, or doye-tail in an ir-
relevant piece from some strange author,
or mix up half dozen authors with in
terpolations Of his own, in an inextricable
verbal tumble.
Clerk-What's your name'
Prlsoner-Peter Knight; am native
to the marrow-bone-that's Shakespeare.
C!erk-Was you intoxicated yesterday:
Prisoner-'Tis true, 'tis pity; pity it's
there isn't q devil a doubt of it-that's
Scott
Clerk-Where did you get your liquor:
Prisoner-Where the bee sucks, there
sucks Peter Knight all day. Thou base,
inglorious slave, think'st thou will reveal
the name Of him who gave me wine' No
stree, Bob-that's Beaumont and Fletch-
er
Officer, in a whisper-If you don't tell,
you will have to go to Jail.
Prisoner-I do remember an apothccary,
and hereabouts he dwels-no he don't, he
lives over in the Bowery-but in his nee
dy shop Goldfish hangs, and on his shelves
beggarly account of empty bottles; no.
ting this penury, to myself | said, if any
man did need a brandy punch, whose sale
is fifty dollars in Gotham, here lives ca
tiff wretch who has probably got plenty
OF it under the counter Why should [
here conceal my fault? Wine ho, l cried
The call was answered, have no wine,
said he, but plenty of whis-. Silence
thou pernicious catiff, quoth 1; thou in
visible spirit of wine, since We can get thee
by no other name, why let us call thee gin
and sugar. He brought tie juice of
cursed juniper in phial, and in the porch
es of my throat did pour Udolpho Wolfe's
distillment. Thus was l, by a Dutch
mans hand at once dispatched drunk
nor sobcr-sent into this dirty station
house three-quarters tighS, with all my i'm
perfections on my head. The fellows
name' My very soul rebels. But wheth-
er it is nobler in the mind to suffer the
cuffs and bruises of this bloody Dutchman,
or to take arms against his d-haired
highness, and by informing, end him I
60 and it is done. Villain, here's at thy
heart. His name, your Honor, is Bob
blcsnofikin, i'll the Bowery-that't Shak-
speare mixed.
Clerk-Have you got homer
Prisoner-My home is on the deep, deep
sea-that's Plutrarch' S Lives.
Clerk--How do you get your living:
Prisoner-Doubt thou the stars are FIRE;
doubt thou the sun doth move doubt
truth to be liar, but never doubt that
I'll get living while the oyster sloops don't
have but one watchman-that's Billy S.
again.
Clerk--Do you pay for your OYSTERS
Prisoner-Base is the slave that pays
the speed ofthought is in my limbs-that's
Byron.
Clerk-Do you steal them and then run
away
Prisoner-I've told thee all, I'll tell
thee no more, though short the story be
let me 90 back where I was before, and
III get my living without troubling the
Corporation--that's Tom Moore, altered
to salt circumstances.
Justice evidently at loss, in a whis-
per to mystiied clerk u think he's era
zy; what do you think it's best to do with
him.
Prisoner (overhearing)-Of with his
head; so much-that's Shakespeare cur
tailed.
Justice-Will you promise to dispense
with the brandy and gin if you are dis
charged'
Prisoner-O, would be happy with
either were 'tother dear charmer bottled
up and the cork put in--that's Dibdin,
with vengeance.
Judge--What do you suppose will be-
come of you if you 60 on in this way
living as you have done'
Prisoner; Alas, poor Yorick,-Petcr,
I mean. Who knows where he will lay
his bones' Few and short will the
prayers be said and noboy'll feel any sor
row; but they'll cram him into his clay
cold bed, and bury somebody on top Of
him tomorrow; the minister will come,
put on his robe and read the service; the
choir III sing him; earth to earth and
dust to gravel and that'll be the last OF
Peter Knight
Clerk-Peter, we will have to send you
up for ten days.
Prisoner-Fare thee well, and if forev-
er, all the better-that's Byron, revised
and corrected
"Friend Jones, prepare yourself for bad
news
MY gracious peak-what is it?'
" -. 1