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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 99, July 19, 1890
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 99, July 19, 1890
more sluggish wit,
To vigilance and duty consecrate,
Will we acquaint with all that we intend,
And we will so commit them to our cause
That they cannot stand off or "square" themselves;
But to your wishes' height you'll all advance.
The City's courts have houses of ill-fame,
Town's palaces are full of wanton wealth,
The slums are ruthless, ravenous ripe for crime.
Then speak, and strike, brave boys, and take your turn!
INFELICITOUS QUOTATIONS.
Fair Authoress. "SO SORRY TO BE SO LATE. I'M AFRAID I'M LAST!"
Genial Host. "'LAST—BUT NOT LEAST!'"
SONG SENTIMENTIANA.
(A delightful "All-the-Year-Sound" Resort for the Fashionable Composer.)
EXAMPLE V.—Of the transformative powers of Love, under condition of Proximity.
When thou art near, the hemisphere
Commissioned to surround me,
(As well as you,) is subject to
Some changes that astound me.
Where'er I look I seem mistook;
All objects—what, I care not—
At once arrange to make a change
To something that they were not!
When thou art near, love,
Strange things occur—
Thickness is clear, love,
Clearness a blur.
Penguins are weasels,
Cheap things are dear,
"Jumps" are but measles
When thou art near!
When thou art close, the doctor's dose
Is quite a decent tonic.
Thy presence, too, makes all things new,
And five-act plays laconic.
And, with thee by, the earth's the sky,
And your "day out" is my day,
While tailors' bills are daffodils,
And Saturday is Friday!
When thou art here, love,
Just where you are,
Far things are near, love,
Near things are far.
Beef-tea is wine, love,
Champagne is beer,
Wet days are fine, love,
When thou art near.
Without you stand quite close at hand,
A broker is a broker;
But stick by me, and then he'll be
A very pleasant joker!
Without thee by, a lie's a lie—
The truth is nought but truthful.
But by me stay, and night is day—
And even you are youthful
When thou art near, love,—
Not, love, unless,—
Thick soup is clear, love,
Football is chess.
IRVINGS are TOOLES, love,
Tadpoles are deer,
Wise men are fools, love,
When thou art near!
When KENNEDY fell out of his boat at Henley, his antagonist, PSOTTA, magnanimously waited for him to get in again. He must be a good Psotta chap.
LOST OPPORTUNITIES.—Last Tuesday week the members of the Incorporated Cain-and-Abel-Authors' Society lost a great treat when Mr. GEORGE AUGUSTUS lost a indignantly refused to take his seat "below the salt," and walked out without making the speech with which his name was associated on the toast-list. But, on the other hand, what a big chance Orator GEORGE AUGUSTUS lost of coming out strong in opposition, and astonishing the Pen-and-Inkorporated ones with a few stirring remarks, in his most genial vein, on the brotherhood of Authors, and their appreciation of distinguished services in the field of Literature. It was an opportunity, too, for suggesting "Re-distribution of Seats."
TO MRS. H.M. STANLEY.
The merry bells do naught but ring,
The streets are gay with flag and pennant,
The birds more sweetly seem to sing—
A Heart to Let has found a TENNANT!
No more will HENRY MORTON roam,
Nor from your charms away for long go,
But, honeymooning here at home,
Forget he ever saw the Congo!
To Oxford 'twas your husband went—
The stately home of Don and Proctor—
Where, 'mid the deafening cheers that rent
The air, he straight became a Doctor.
As one whose valour none can shake,
We've sung him in a thousand ditties,
And freedoms too we've made him take
Of goodness knows how many cities!
Yet while to honour and to praise
With one another we've been vying,
Has he not told us for the days
Of rest to come he ne'er ceased sighing?
And when, with pomp of high degree,
Your marriage vows and troth you plighted,
Why, everyone was glad to see
Art and Adventure thus united!
"To those about to Marry.—Don't!"
So Mr. Punch did once advise us.
Spread the advice? I'm sure you won't.
A course which hardly need surprise us.
O lovely wife of one we think
Above all others brave and manly,
We clink our glasses as we drink
Long life and health to Mrs. STANLEY!
THE ANGLO-GERMAN CONCERTINA.
"I confess I was not at all prepared for the feelings that some South Africans appear to entertain with respect to our conduct in the recent negotiations"—Lord Salisbury to the Deputation of African Merchants respecting the proposed Anglo-German Agreement.
Imperial Instrumentalist (loquitur). "WHAT, NOT LIKE THE TONE OF IT? WELL, YOU DO SURPRISE ME!!!"I fancied that this Instrument
Would make a great sensation
And that its music would content
The critics and the nation,
I know it is what vulgar folks
Christen the "Constant-screamer;"
I thought you'd scorn such feeble jokes;
It seems I was a dreamer.
You writhe your lips, you close your ears!
Dear me! Such conduct tries me.
You do not like it, it appears
Well, well,—you do surprise me!
'Tis not, I know, the Jingo drum,
Nor the "Imperial" trumpet.
(The country to their call won't come,
However much you stump it.)
They're out of fashion; 'tis not now
As in the days of "BEAKEY."
People dislike the Drum's tow-row.
And call the Trumpet squeaky.
So I the Concertina try,
As valued friends advise me.
What's that you say? It's all my eye?
Well, well,—you do surprise me!
I fancied you would like it much,
You and the other fellows.
Admire the tone, remark my touch!
And what capacious bellows!
'Tis not as loud as a trombone,