Dramatis Personae

O'Shame, Officer of the law.

O'Wottashame, Sergeant of Police.

O'Wottadamshame Chief of Police.

Citizens, Murderers, Robbers, Kidnappers; Lampy.

Scene

Cambridge and Boston simultaneously. Street in front of Police Headquarters. To the right a Citizen is being murdered. To the left a Citizen is being robbed. In the background a Citizen is being kidnapped. In the foreground Chief O'Wottadamshame and Sergeant O'Wottashame are seated on the curbstone reading the Gazette. Cries of "Help! Police!" resound on all sides.

Enter O'Shame weeping and gnashing his teeth.

O'Shame Begorra, they've done it agin!

O'Wottashame -- Faith, 'n fwho's done fwhat agin?

O'Wottadamshame--Quit yer blubberin' there O'Shame! Ye'll disgrace me Court, I'tell ye. Fwhy can't ye set down 'n enjoy the pitchers in the Gazette like a dacent, self-respectin' policeman?

Cries of "Help! Murder!" from the distressed Citizens on all sides.

O'Shame -- Yer Honor, it's more 'n a dacent, self-respectin' policeman kin shtand, the way they're pokin fun at the Irish. Cast yer eye at this. (Pulls a Lampoon of April 15 out of his pooket Reads:) Religion an shquash service. Shall the Cathedral uv Sint Archibald th' Iguostic go on?

O'Wottadamshame--Hand me over that yeller, shtinkin' Lampoon uv a magazine. It's a libel, that's fwhat it is, and fwhat's more, it's me that'll not shtand any more of it?

Fainter cries of "Help! Murder! Police!" from off stage.

O'Shame--An' ye remimber the Sint Patrick's number uv a month ago?

O'Wottashame--Remimber? Is it us as will iver fergit it?

O'Shame Yes, an would ye believe it? I hear as how one uv the hathen at the University has been making dir-rty remar-rks 'gainst His Holiness. He said he never knew fwhat a papal bull was until he laid eyes on the Cardinal.

O'Wottadamshame By me auld mither. I'll ! Ha! Fwhat's this." (Points to picture in Lampoon Reads:) If this be trasin, make the most uv it.. It's trasin enough, by Sint Patrick, an' it's we're the boys to make the most uv it. Away me min! Confisheate the shlanderous rubbish. Don't leave a single copy to pollute the minds uv dacent people.

Exeunt omnes singing "An it's a ferauld Erin"

Cries of distress die away in the distance.

Curtain