THE POLITICAL DRAMA. No. 46.

1st Officer. Delightful! Superb! 'Is an absolute treat, positively.—would that we had it every day, Sir John, it would be a relief to the excessive dulness in military quarters.—Domme, how he writes.—Ha! ha! ha! one could almost swear he had his red jacket on—the drummer seems shamed of the fellow, so he's after CUTTING his acquaintance.

2nd Officer. The drum is an admirable accompaniment to the blackguard's music.—How he yells; ha! ha!—suppose the fellow now is what the old calls it a bloody-luck. Ha! ha! ha! 3rd Officer. Sir Frederick. Why is the Flogger a Slovember Fellow! D'ye give it up! Because he's backward in doing his duty.—Ha! ha! ha!—Why is the Poor Beggar at the Halberds like a Man of Business in a hurry? D'ye give that up to it? Because he wants to Get Away! Ha! ha! ha! 4th Officer. I have an idea that he don't look unlike Rose-head and Bloody-bones! He! he! he!—D'ye know Vacous, why the chap is like a Fatigued Soldier in a strange town! D'ye give it up? Because he is crying for Quarters. Haw! haw! haw!—I shall really expire with laughter!

6th Officer. Faith: the fellow looks like a Red Herring.

7th Officer. By Jusus, and he looks for all the world as if he had the Scarlet Power.

8th Officer. By God, here is some of us fainting.

9th Officer. Oh, I suppose its through the heat of the weather.

10th Officer. Oh, nonsense, the fact is there's not a few of them that bought their Commissions merely to appear on parade, and never saw blood shed in their lives before.

1st Drummer. Cheer up, Bill, you'll soon get used to it.

2nd Drummer. Joe, get ready, your next to go!

3rd Drummer. Sam, look—the flies are hovering round his back as thick as bees round a honeycomb!

1st Soldier. Darn it, Jack, don't faint, this is nothing to what you'll have to see.

3rd Soldier. I say, Ben, this is enough to make a mutiny among us, to see a brother comrade cut up like butcher's meat, for merely getting a drop too much, while our damned officers are getting drunk every night with wine; I've seen many of the sons of w—s more than half sprung, frequently on parade!

4th Soldier. I'll be one to give our Colonel a dose.

5th Soldier. Let it go, go, let it go on, they treat us poor privates worse than run away Niggers; but never mind let it go on, it will be the means of doing away with it the more effectual than all the Acts of Parliament, by creating a horrible disgust in the army, and ending in a general menace of the Aristocratie Varmint.

Oh, God! have Mercy! Mercy

Mercy!! Jesus Christ! have Mercy

I't hard! hit hard! fellow—Cut his Flesh off—Tear his Life out
—Break his Spin. Go it drummer: Lash his Skin off till his
body is as raw as butcher's meat! I'll teach him to get drunk.
Drummer, flourish the Cat with a little more science, d'ye hear,
or I'll give you a dozen.—That's it,—to attempt to strike his
Sorjeant, indeed—Dawn him, bring his base blood out like
a shower bath—Bravo drummer, at him again, and let'daylight
into his suli.—What, ho! BEAT THE DRUMS AND
DROWN THE RASCAL'S CRIES!

THE LATE BLOODY AND BRUTAL EXHIBITION OF HORRID MILITARY TORTURE, OR, ARISTOCRATIC BASTARDS IN THEIR GLORY !!!

Private HENDERSON receiving 2700 Lashes on his Bare Back, by way of affording a little pastime to the Officers of the 1st Batallion of the 3rd Regiment of MEN BUTCHERS; under the immediate Superintendence of the Master MAN BUTCHER, Colonel B—w—r.

[Printed and Published by G. Drake, 12, Houghton Street, Clare Market.