A Broadside: No. 7. Seventh and Last Year of the Set
Title
A Broadside: No. 7. Seventh and Last Year of the Set
Subject
Ireland
Cuala Press
A Broadside
Irish Literary Revival
The Gaelic Revival
Description
PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY E. C. YEATS AT THE CUALA PRESS, CHURCHTOWN, DUNDRUM, COUNTY DUBLIN. SUBSCRIPTION TWELVE SHILLINGS A YEAR POST FREE.
300 copies only.
300 copies only.
The woodcut on page [3] has the caption: "A LONG TIME AGO". Signed by Jack B. Yeats.
Creator
E. C. Yeats
Jack B. Yeats
Publisher
Cuala Press
Date
December, 1914
Text
BUCKS HAVE AT YE ALL; OR, THE PICTURE OF A PLAYHOUSE
Ye social friends of claret and of wit,
Where'er dispers'd, in merry groups you sit;
Whether below you gild the glitt'ring sence,
Or mount aloft there, on a bold thirteen.
Ye bucks assembl'd at your Ranger's call,
Damme, I know ye - and have at ye all.
The motive here that sets our Bucks on fire,
The gen'rous wish, the first and last desire;
If you with plaudits echo to redrown,
Or urg'd with fury, tear the benches down;
'Tis still the same - to one bright goal we haste,
To show your judgement and approve your taste.
'Tis not in nature for ye to be quiet,
No, damme, Bucks exist but in a riot.
For instance now - to please the ear and charm admiring crowd,
You bucks o' th'boxes sneer and talk aloud!
To the green box next with joyous speed you run,
Hilly ho! ho! my Bucks! well, damme it, what's the fun?
Tho' Shakespeare speaks, regardless of the play,
Ye laugh and loll the sprightly hours away;
For to seem sensible of real merit,
Oh, damme, it's low, it's vulgar, - beneath us lads of spirit.
Your Bucks o'th' pit are miracles of learning,
Who point out faults to shew their own discerning;
And, critic-like, bestriding martyr'd sense,
Proclaim their genius and vast consequence.
The side-long row, whose keener views of bliss
Are chiefly centered in some favourite Miss;
A set of jovial Bucks who here resort,
Flush from the tavern, reeling ripe for sport,
Wak'd from their dream, oft joined the general roar,
With bravo, bravo - bravissimo, et damme, encore
Or, skipping that, behold another row,
Supplied with citizens or smiling beau:
Addressing Miss, whose cardinal protection,
Keeps her quite safe from ranc'rous detraction,
Whose lively eyes beneath a down drawn hat,
Gives hint she loves a little - you know what.
Ye Bucks above who range like gods at large,
Nay, pray don't grin, but listen to your charge,
You who design to change this scene to raillery,
And out-talk players in the upper gallery:
Oh, there's a youth, and one o' th'sprightly sort,
I don't mean you - damme, you've not features for 't.
Who slily skulks to hidden station,
While players follow their vocation,
Whistle, 'off, off, off, Nosee, Roast Beet' - there's education.
Now, I've explored this mimic world quite thro'.
An set each country's little faults to view:
In the right sense receive the well-meant jest,
And keep the moral still within your breast;
Convinc'd I'd not in heart or tongue offend,
Your hands acquit me, and I've gain'd my end.
Ye social friends of claret and of wit,
Where'er dispers'd, in merry groups you sit;
Whether below you gild the glitt'ring sence,
Or mount aloft there, on a bold thirteen.
Ye bucks assembl'd at your Ranger's call,
Damme, I know ye - and have at ye all.
The motive here that sets our Bucks on fire,
The gen'rous wish, the first and last desire;
If you with plaudits echo to redrown,
Or urg'd with fury, tear the benches down;
'Tis still the same - to one bright goal we haste,
To show your judgement and approve your taste.
'Tis not in nature for ye to be quiet,
No, damme, Bucks exist but in a riot.
For instance now - to please the ear and charm admiring crowd,
You bucks o' th'boxes sneer and talk aloud!
To the green box next with joyous speed you run,
Hilly ho! ho! my Bucks! well, damme it, what's the fun?
Tho' Shakespeare speaks, regardless of the play,
Ye laugh and loll the sprightly hours away;
For to seem sensible of real merit,
Oh, damme, it's low, it's vulgar, - beneath us lads of spirit.
Your Bucks o'th' pit are miracles of learning,
Who point out faults to shew their own discerning;
And, critic-like, bestriding martyr'd sense,
Proclaim their genius and vast consequence.
The side-long row, whose keener views of bliss
Are chiefly centered in some favourite Miss;
A set of jovial Bucks who here resort,
Flush from the tavern, reeling ripe for sport,
Wak'd from their dream, oft joined the general roar,
With bravo, bravo - bravissimo, et damme, encore
Or, skipping that, behold another row,
Supplied with citizens or smiling beau:
Addressing Miss, whose cardinal protection,
Keeps her quite safe from ranc'rous detraction,
Whose lively eyes beneath a down drawn hat,
Gives hint she loves a little - you know what.
Ye Bucks above who range like gods at large,
Nay, pray don't grin, but listen to your charge,
You who design to change this scene to raillery,
And out-talk players in the upper gallery:
Oh, there's a youth, and one o' th'sprightly sort,
I don't mean you - damme, you've not features for 't.
Who slily skulks to hidden station,
While players follow their vocation,
Whistle, 'off, off, off, Nosee, Roast Beet' - there's education.
Now, I've explored this mimic world quite thro'.
An set each country's little faults to view:
In the right sense receive the well-meant jest,
And keep the moral still within your breast;
Convinc'd I'd not in heart or tongue offend,
Your hands acquit me, and I've gain'd my end.
Original Format
Broadside
Files
Collection
Citation
E. C. Yeats and Jack B. Yeats, “A Broadside: No. 7. Seventh and Last Year of the Set,” Linda Lear Center Digital Collections and Exhibitions, accessed November 21, 2024, https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/items/show/1425.