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قراءة كتاب Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, March 23, 1895

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‏اللغة: English
Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, March  23, 1895

Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, March 23, 1895

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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examination] received for this conduct of yours while secretary?" To which witness answered, "£500 a year, and a bonus of £200." Whereupon the Alderman remarked, "Then all I can say is, you could have got many honest men to do the work for much less."

Quite so, Mr. Alderman, true for you; but if a man will act honestly for a sovereign, what might not the addition of ten shillings do? It ought to make him more honest comparatively, while another ten shillings would make him superlatively honest. But how if there were an obligation attached to the increase? Just a trifling deviation out of the straight course to begin with, to oblige a patron?

Let honesty be the drug in the market, and the rare herb dishonesty will be at a premium. It is gratifying to be assured, on aldermanic authority, that Shakspeare was wrong, and that in future for Hamlet's well-known dictum, "For to be honest as this world goes is to be as one man picked out of ten thousand," we must read "For to be dishonest as this world goes is to be as one man picked out of ten thousand."

Happy Alderman Davies! In what paradisiacal pastures must he have moved and breathed and earned his livelihood!


CIRCLING THE SQUARE.

Standing awhile at the corner crossing,
Watching a van as it lumbers past,
Something impels me to turn and saunter
Down to the Square, where I met you last.
Down to the Square with its formal garden
Slowly I pace—yet I scarce know why;
Somehow I never have since been near it,
Things have all changed since last July!
There is the gate, where you fumbled sadly
Turning the key—though I lent my aid—
There are the paths, where we strolled in sunshine,
There is our seat in the chestnut shade.
Borders all empty, and paths uncared for,
Bleak, bare branches, and murky sky—
This is the "garden I love" no longer,
How it has changed since last July!
All that we spoke of, or left unspoken,
All that our tongues or our eyes could say
Comes to me now, as the Square I circle,
Clear as events but of yesterday.
Vain to remember, to care still vainer,
You have been married a month, and I—
I'm a misogynist—just at present,
How we have changed since last July!


FULL SPEED AHEAD
"FULL SPEED AHEAD!"

Britannia (to Lord Spencer).

To "hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn,"
My Spencer, in this clear determined manner,
Is spirit-gladdening; showing you were born
To back my power and upbear my banner!


"FULL SPEED AHEAD!"

["The essential thing is that the party now in office has loyally followed the example of the party in opposition, and, 'neglecting party considerations, and provincial interests, has,' as the Civil Lord claimed for it, 'risen to the full height of its Imperial responsibilities.'"—The "Times" on the Navy Estimates.]

Britannia (cheerily). To "hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn,"
My Spencer, in this clear determined manner,
Is spirit-gladdening; showing you were born
To back my power and upbear my banner!
Triton-Spencer. You do me proud, Ma'am!
Rootle-tootle-too!
Foghorns not in it, eh? As for those sirens!—
Aha! Ulysses made a great to-do,
But by the blue brine that your coast environs
Our marine music beats'em out of sight!
Britannia. Especially now you blare so well together
You rival conch-performers. Ah! that's right.
Now I'm prepared for any sort of weather!
Triton-Spencer sings:—
Britannia's Sea-Lady-in-Chief,
Rootle-toot!
And I'm her First Lord, and a ripper.
Our chumminess passes belief,
Rootle-toot!
Lor! When she appointed me skipper
Some fancied I'd dawdle—at least, so they said—
Now they see that my motto is—Full Speed Ahead!
Georgie Hamilton there with his glass,
Rootle-toot!
Would spy out the flaws if there were any:
Eddard Reed wouldn't let blunders pass,
Rootle-toot!
They're critical coves, and won't spare any.
But bless'em, their scrutiny I do not dread.
My motto, you see, Ma'am, is—Full Speed Ahead!
Of course, that won't do in a fog,
Rootle-toot!
But I think there's a clear course afore us!
Give way to old-fashioned jig-jog?
Rootle-toot!
Nay, not by the mothers who bore us!
With a sharpish look-out, but without stint or dread,
We blow up our horn, Ma'am, for—Full Speed Ahead!
Old Nep may regard us with glee,
Rootle-toot!
Amphitrite may shout an "Ahoy," Ma'am.
If you're still on for Killing the Sea,—
Rootle-toot!
To back you in that I'm the bhoy, Ma'am.
By my heart ('tis true blue), by my beard (it is red),
My motto, Britannia, is—Full Speed Ahead!
Britannia. Bravo, my ruddy-bearded, brave old Triton!
Nep shouts approval from his deep-sea grotto.
Friends need not fear for me, foes shall not frighten,

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