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Then the ringmaster he see how he had been fooled, and he WAS the sickest
ringmaster you ever see, I reckon. Why, it was one of his own men! He had
got up that joke all out of his own head, and never let on to nobody. Well,
I felt sheepish enough to be took in so, but I wouldn’t a been in that
ringmaster’s place, not for a thousand dollars. I don’t know; there may be
bullier circuses than what that one was, but I never struck them yet.
Anyways, it was plenty good enough for ME; and wherever I run across it, it
can have all of MY custom every time.
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The ringmaster looked sick when he realized he’d been fooled. He was
probably the sickest ringmaster you’ve ever seen since he had been tricked
by one of his own men! The guy had thought up that whole joke by himself and
hadn’t told anyone. Well, I felt pretty foolish for having been taken, but I
wouldn’t have wanted to be in the ringmaster’s shoes, not for a thousands
dollars. I don’t know—maybe there are better circuses than this one, but I’d
never seen one. Anyway, this circus was good enough for ME, and you bet that
they’ll be getting my business whenever I come across it again.
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Well, that night we had OUR show; but there warn’t only about twelve
people there—just enough to pay expenses. And they laughed all the time, and
that made the duke mad; and everybody left, anyway, before the show was
over, but one boy which was asleep. So the duke said these Arkansaw
lunkheads couldn’t come up to Shakespeare; what they wanted was low
comedy—and maybe something ruther worse than low comedy, he reckoned. He
said he could size their style. So next morning he got some big sheets of
wrapping paper and some black paint, and drawed off some handbills, and
stuck them up all over the village. The bills said:
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That night we put on our OWN show, even though there was only about twelve
people there—just enough to break even. Everyone laughed throughout the
whole show, which made the duke mad. And the entire crowd left before the
show was even over, except for one boy who’d fallen asleep. The duke said
that these Arkansas lunkheads weren’t good enough for Shakespeare. He said
he knew all about their type. He figured that what they wanted was low
comedy—and maybe something even worse than that. So, next morning he took
some big sheets of wrapping paper and some black paint and drew some new handbills. Then he stuck them up all over the village. The handbills
said:
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AT THE COURT HOUSE! FOR 3 NIGHTS ONLY!
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AT THE COURTHOUSE! FOR 3 NIGHTS ONLY!
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The World-Renowned Tragedians
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The World Renowned Tragedians
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DAVID GARRICK THE YOUNGER!
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DAVID GARRICK THE YOUNGER!
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AND EDMUND KEAN THE ELDER!
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AND EDMUND KEAN THE ELDER!
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Of the London and
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Of the London and
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Continental Theatres,
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Continental Theatres,
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In their Thrilling Tragedy of
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In their Thrilling Tragedy of
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THE KING’S CAMELEOPARD,
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THE KING’S CAMEL-LEOPARD,
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OR THE ROYAL NONESUCH ! ! !
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OR, THE ROYAL NOTHINGNESS!!!
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Admission 50 cents.
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Admission 50 cents.
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Then at the bottom was the biggest line of all, which said:
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The biggest line of all was written at the bottom. It said:
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LADIES AND CHILDREN NOT ADMITTED.
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LADIES AND CHILDREN NOT ADMITTED.
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“There,” says he, “if that line don’t fetch them, I don’t know
Arkansaw!”
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“There,” he said. “If that last line doesn’t bring them in, then I don’t
know a thing about Arkansas!”
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