قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, February 18, 1893
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, Vol. 104, February 18, 1893
say?
Come with a hoop to concert or ball,
Come with balloon-skirts, or come not at all!
A Candid Friend.
Scene—Brown's Study—the well-known "Brown's Study," of course. Brown is reading the fortieth chapter of his three-volume Autobiography to Jones.
Brown (pausing in his gigantic work). Well, tell me, honestly, have you any fault to find with it?
Jones. Well—hum!—it wants finish.
[Looks at his watch, rises hurriedly, and exits quickly.
Why, on an Illustrated Paper, should the position of the reproducer of Artists' black-and-white work be a higher one than that of the Artists themselves? Because he undertakes "Graver" responsibilities.
BURIDAN'S ASS.
(Modern Agricultural Version.)
[Buridan is said to have been the inventor of the dilemma of the ass between two absolutely equal bundles of hay, he maintaining that the ass's choice must be so equally balanced that he would starve, there being no motive for preference.]
Long-patient Issachar, o'erladen muncher
Of heaps of "vacant chaff well-meant for grain,"
If, like the pious spouse of Jerry Cruncher,
You "flop," and, camel-wise, won't rise again
To bear big burdens that strength staggers under,
On fodder most inadequate, what wonder?
To wallop a poor "donkey wot won't go,"
The good old song suggests is cruel folly.
Give him some fragrant hay, then cry "Gee-woa!"
The lyrist hints, in diction quaintly jolly.
From starving moke you'll get no progress steady;
The well-fed ass responds to "Gee-up, Neddy!"
Poor brute, between two piles of sapless chaff,
While such big burdens weigh your weary shoulders,
Your choice is difficult! Cynics may laugh,
But pity for your plight moves kind beholders.
Cockneys cry, "Kim hup, Neddy!" or "Woa, Emma!"
But Punch compassionates your hard dilemma.
What choice between the chaff of arid Rad
And that of equally dry-and-dusty Tory?
Chaplin would feed you on preposterous fad,
And Gardner on—postponement! The old story!
While the grass grows the horse may starve. Poor ass!
Party would bring you to a similar pass!
"A certain Mister Jesse Collings" poses
As your particular friend and patron. Quite so!
Joseph and he cock their pugnacious noses
At their old Chief, venting their zeal (and spite) so.
Codlin—no, Collings—is the friend. "Lard bless 'ee,
Turn Willyum oop, and try Joseph and Jesse!"
"Willyum"—who wields a very pretty flail—
Drubs them delightfully, 'midst general laughter.
But oh, poor ass, aching from head to tail,
Pray, what the better is your state thereafter?
Buridan's Ass was surely your twin brother.
There's such small difference 'twixt one and t'other!
POLITICS IN PLAY.
Dear Mr. Punch,—I notice that that eminent author, Mr. Henry Arthur Jones, has written a play called The Bauble Shop, in which he has introduced the room of the Prime Minister in the House of Commons as one of his most striking tableaux. I have not yet had the advantage of seeing what I feel sure must be an admirable comedy, but in justice to myself I must ask you to publish a portion of a piece of my own, which seems to me to bear some resemblance to what I suppose I must call (as it has enjoyed priority of production) the Criterion original. I call my drama The Walking Gentleman, or the Young Premier, and I beg to submit to you the last Scene (a very short one) of the last Act. Here it is in extenso:—
Scene.—Angelina's Boudoir. Angelina discovered waiting for Edwin.
Angelina (anxiously). And, will he never come! Ah! that House—that House! With its blazing beacon from the Clock Tower; it——(With a cry of joy.) Ah, he is here!
Edwin (entering hurriedly and taking Angelina in his arms). My own one! Yes, I say it advisedly, my own one! Mine—Mine—for ever!
Ang. Nay, Edwin; you forget the claims the Government—the country—have upon your time!
Edw. No, darling, I do not. The Division has been taken; it is all over. At the last moment I rose in my place in the House, and made purposely one of the most injudicious orations ever heard within those respected walls. I disgusted friends, alienated adherents, and in every possible manner strengthened the hands of the Opposition; and, darling we are beaten—yes, beaten—by a thumping majority.
Ang. (in tears). Oh, Edwin, Edwin! I am so sorry!
Edw. Nay, do not weep. For thy dear sake I accepted the sacrifice. I am no longer leader of the House, I am no longer head of the Administration, and now I shall have ample leisure. Yes, darling, smile once more. Now I shall have time to be married. Now I can speak with hope of a honeymoon!
(Curtain.)
There, Mr. Punch! If that would not overwhelm the Stalls and Boxes with painful emotion, and bring down the Pit and Gallery with thunders of applause, I am a Dutchman!
Yours obediently,
Garrick Shakspeare Snooks.
ON THE FREE LIST.
MARY-ANNER ON THE COMING MODE.
["That there is much to be said for crinoline on hygienic grounds, and on those of cleanliness, must be obvious to its most prejudiced opponents."—Lady Jeune "In Defence of Crinoline."]
Dear Polly,—This comes hooping—I mean hoping, as you're heard,
As the Queen and the Princess o' Wales declines to be absurd,
And put their foot in it—dear me!—I mean to put it down
Upon the coming Crinerline! A-arsting of the Crown
To hinterfere with hus, dear,—wich I means the female sect,—
In our Fashions, is fair himperence. But, wot can yer expect
From parties—wich they may be litterary, or may not—
As