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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344054" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Shakespeare on the Turf</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">SCENE I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">SCENE: The saddling paddock at a racecourse.<br>Citizens, Battlers, Toffs, Trainers, Flappers, Satyrs, Bookmakers and Turf Experts.<br>Enter Shortinbras, a Trainer, and two Punters.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">FIRST PUNTER: Good Shortinbras, what thinkest thou of the Fav'rite?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">SHORTINBRAS (aside): This poltroon would not venture a ducat<br>on David to beat a dead donkey; a dull and muddy-mettled rascal.<br>(To Punter): Aye marry Sir, I think well of the Favourite.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">PUNTER: And yet I have a billiard marker's word<br>That in this race to-day they back Golumpus,<br>And when they bet, they tell me, they will knock<br>The Favourite for a string of German Sausage.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">SHORTINBRAS: Aye, marry, they would tell thee, I've no doubt,<br>It is the way of owners that they tell<br>To billiard markers and the men on trams<br>Just when they mean to bet. Go back it, back it!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(Tries to shuffle off, but Punter detains him.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">PUNTER: Nay, good Shortinbras, what thinkest thou of Golumpus?<br>Was it not dead last week?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">SHORTINBRAS: Marry, sir, I think well of Golumpus.<br>'Tis safer to speak well of the dead: betimes they rise again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(Sings)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They pulled him barefaced in the mile,<br>Hey, Nonny, Nonny.<br>The Stipes were watching them all the while;<br>And the losers swear, but the winners smile,<br>Hey, Nonny, Nonny.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Exit Shortinbras.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">SECOND RUNTER: A scurvy knave! What meant he by his prate<br>Of Fav'rite and outsider and the like?<br>Forsooth he told us nothing. Follow him close.<br>Give him good watch, I pray you, till we see<br>Just what he does his dough on. Follow fast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Exeunt Punters</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>SCENE II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The same. Bookmakers call: 'Seven to Four on the Field!'<br>'Three to One, Bar One!' 'Ten to One, Golumpus.'<br>Enter Two Heads.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">FIRST HEAD: How goes the battle? Did thou catch the last?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">SECOND HEAD: Aye, marry did I, and the one before,<br>But this has got me beat. The Favourite drifts,<br>And not a single wager has been laid<br>About Golumpus. Thinkest thou that both are dead?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Re-enter Punters</div><div style="margin:10px 0">PUNTER: Good morrow, Gentlemen. I have it cold<br>Straight from the owner, that Golumpus goes<br>Eyes out to win today.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">FIRST HEAD: Prate not to me of owners. Hast thou seen<br>The good red gold Go in. The Jockey's Punter<br>Has he put up the stuff, or does he wait<br>To get a better price. Owner say'st thou?<br>The owner does the paying, and the talk;<br>Hears the tale afterwards when it gets beat<br>And sucks it in as hungry babes suck milk.<br>Look you how ride the books in motor cars<br>While owners go on foot, or ride in trams,<br>Crushed with the vulgar herd and doomed to hear<br>From mouths of striplings that their horse was stiff,<br>When they themselves are broke from backing it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>SCENE III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Enter an Owner and a Jockey</div><div style="margin:10px 0">OWNER: 'Tis a good horse. A passing good horse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">JOCKEY: I rose him yesternoon: it seemed to me<br>That in good truth a fairly speedy cow<br>Might well outrun him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">OWNER: Thou froward varlet; must I say again,<br>That on the Woop Woop course he ran a mile<br>In less than forty with his irons on!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">JOCKEY: Then thou should'st bring the Woop Woop course down here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">OWNER: Thou pestilential scurvy Knave. Go to!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Strikes him.<br>Alarms and excursions. The race is run and Shortinbras enters,<br>leading in the winner.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">FIRST PUNTER: And thou hast trained the winner, thou thyself,<br>Thou complicated liar. Didst not say<br>To back Golumpus or the Favourite!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">SHORTINBRAS: Get work! For all I ever had of thee<br>My children were unfed, my wife unclothed,<br>And I myself condemned to menial toil.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">PUNTER: The man who keeps a winner to himself<br>Deserves but death. (Kills him)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Enter defeated Owner and Jockey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">OWNER: Thou whoreson Knave: thou went into a trance<br>Soon as the barrier lifted and knew naught<br>Of what occurred until they neared the post.<br>(Kills him)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Curtain falls on ensemble of punters, bookmakers,<br>heads and surviving jockeys and trainers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Andrew+Barton+Paterson">Andrew Barton Paterson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344054" data-title="Shakespeare on the Turf de Andrew Barton Paterson" data-description="SCENE I

SCENE: The saddling paddock at a racecourse.
Citizens, Battlers, Toffs, Trainers, Flappers, Satyrs, Bookmakers and Turf Experts.
Enter Shortinbras, a Trainer, and two Punters.

FIRST PUNTER: Good Shortinbras, what thinkest thou of the Fav..."></div>
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