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قراءة كتاب Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, March 26, 1892
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
write this ... ha!... The grocer's book!... "Boom-de-ay" without the "Ta-ra." The spell is broken! N.B.—As this delightful song has now a certain number of Music-"hall-marks," the places where it is sung can be spotted and remembered as "Ta-ra's Halls."
TO THE YOUNG CITY-MEN.
TO MAKE MUCH OF (LUNCHEON) TIME; OR, A COUNSEL TO CLERKS. (AFTER HERRICK.)
Gather ye fish-bones while ye may,
The luncheon hour is flying,
And this same cod, that's boiled to-day,
To-morrow may be frying.
The handsome clock of ormolu
A quarter past is showing,
And soon 'twill be a quarter to,
When you must think of going.
That man eats best who eats the first,
When fish and plates are warmer,
But being cold, the worse and worst
Fare still succeeds the former.
Then be not coy, but use your lungs,
And while ye may, cry "Waiter!"
For having held just now your tongues,
You may repent it later.
FANCY PORTRAIT.
THE HUMBUG-HUNTING FERRET. (VIVERRA LABOUCHERIENSIS.)
The Times (loq.). "AH! WONDERFUL INSTINCT, AND OCCASIONALLY USEFUL. BUT I'M NOT PARTICULARLY PARTIAL TO HIM!"
PONSCH, PRINCE OF OLLENDORF.
(M. Maeterlinck's very last Masterpiece.)
The Belgian Master has tried, as he has already informed the world, "to write SHAKSPEARE for a company of Marionnettes." Encouraged by his extraordinary success, he has soared higher yet, and adapted our greatest national drama for the purposes of the (Independent) itinerant Stage. We are enabled by the courtesy of his publishers to give a few specimen scenes from this magnum opus, which, as will be seen, requires somewhat more elaborate mounting and mechanical effects than are at present afforded by the ordinary Punch Show. In M. MAETERLINCK's version, Ponsch becomes the Prince of Half-seas-over-Holland; he is the victim of hereditary homicidal mania, complicated by neurotic hysteria. Inflamed by the insinuations of Mynheer Olenikke—a kind of Dutch Mephistopheles and Iago combined—he is secretly jealous of his consort the Princess Jödi's preference for the society of Djoë, the Court Jester and Society Clown. Here is our first sample:—
A Chamber in the Castle. Princess JÖDI discovered at a window with DJOË.
Jödi. Lo! lo! a shower of stars is falling upon the fowl-house!
Djoë. Oh! oh! a shower of stars upon the fowl-house? (A water pipe in the back-garden bursts suddenly and splashes them.) Ah! ah! I am wet all over! Have you a pocket handkerchief?
Jödi. Oh, look! a comet—an enormous one—has descended into the water-butt! The sky is blood-red, and the moon has turned the colour of green cheese. This bodes some disaster!
Djoë. It is unsettled—rainy—unpleasant weather. Can you lend me an umbrella?
Jödi. I cannot lend you an umbrella, because I have lent mine to the gardener's wife. Owls are roosting on the chimney-pots, and a stickleback has jumped out of the pond. Hush, my Lord the Prince approaches!
[Prince PONSCH enters, bearing a stout staff, which he nurses gloomily, like an infant; a hurricane is heard in the middle distance; the waterpipe sobs strangely and then expires; a blackbeetle comes out of a cupboard and runs uneasily about, until a flash of lightning enters down the chimney and kills it. PONSCH stands glaring at DJOË and the Princess.
Djoë (hastily). There is going to be a storm. Do not forget what I have uttered. Good evening!
[He goes; the wind whistles a popular air through the keyhole.
Jödi (nervously). What an appalling evening! I have never seen the like of such a sky.
Ponsch. There is something about you this evening—how beautiful you are looking! Bring BEBBI-PONSCH.
Jödi (fetching the Infant Prince). Here he is. Why do you look so strangely at him?
Bebbi-Ponsch (a small, but important part). Is Pa-a-par poo-oorly? Won't he p'ay wiz me no mo-ore?
Ponsch. The soul of a little stage-child looms from under his green eyes! OLENIKKE was right, and I— No matter. I will open the window.
[Opens it, and throws BEBBI-P. out. Sound of water-splash audible.
Jödi. Oh my! Oh my! What have you done? He has fallen right into the moat—on one of the swans!
Ponsch. Indeed—on one of the swans? (A pot of mignonnette is blown off the window-sill by a gust.) I will close the window. (Closes it; a hailstorm beats on the panes.) Is that really a hailstorm—or only birds?
Jödi. I can hear nothing. (P. strikes her suddenly on the head with staff.) Someone is knocking at my door. Come in! I cannot see anything now.
Ponsch. Can you, indeed, see nothing? [He strikes her again.
Jödi. Now I can see stars. I feel as if purple mills were going round in my head. I shall never kiss anybody any more. Oh! oh! oh! [She dies.
Ponsch. She was a beautiful woman, do you know? Oh, how lonely I shall feel hereafter! (A black dog is heard scratching and sniffing outside the door.) It is only Tobbi. Someone has trod on your toe, my poor Tobbi. Come in. Give me your paw. (Tobbi enters, and flies suddenly at his nose.) Oh, my nose is bleeding! Let us go to the pond. I do not know why I feel so melancholy this evening. [He goes out, pursued by Tobbi.
SAMPLE No. II.—A Hall in Castle Ollendorff. A Marionnette Theatre at the back of Stage. DJOË, a Belgian Bedell, and Dutch Dolls-in-waiting discovered.
Djoë. Green flames are running along the walls, and blue globes are bounding about the back garden. I have never seen such a night. Here comes the Prince.
[Enter PONSCH, conscience-stricken; all bow.
Ponsch. I am not melancholy, but I have hardly any hair. Let the Play commence!
Curtain of Marionnette Show rises; a Clown is seen chasing a butterfly.
A Councillor. Oh! oh! oh! [Uproar; the Clown and Butterfly are withdrawn. A Skeleton appears on the Stage, and dances his head and limbs off in a blue light.
Ponsch (rising). That was done purposely! You are driving at something. Confess it! Is there no topic more cheerful? I cannot bear it any longer!
[Knocks down DJOË with his staff. A combat, during which DJOË several times obtains possession of the weapon, and wounds PONSCH. N.B.—Note the striking resemblance here to the similar, but very inferior, Scenes in "Hamlet."
The Dutch Dolls (running