Morgan, justly proud of her gifted sister Olivia,
was in the habit of addressing every new-comer
with, "I must make you acquainted with my Livy." She
once used this form of words to a gentleman who had
just been worsted in an encounter of wits with the lady
in question. "Yes, ma'am," was the reply; "I happen
to know your _Livy_, and I would to Heaven your _Livy_
was _Tacitus_."
LORD ALBEMARLE, _Fifty Years of my Life._
"Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed,"
Observes some solemn, sentimental owl;
Maxims like these are very cheaply said;
But e'er you make yourself a fool or fowl,
Pray just inquire about his rise and fall,
And whether larks have any bed at all!
The "time for honest folks to be in bed"
Is in the morning, if I reason right;
And he who cannot keep his precious head
Upon its pillow till it's fairly light,
And so enjoy his forty morning winks,
Is up to knavery; or else--he drinks!
JOHN GODFREY SAXE, _Poems._
_A Popular Man._--One who is so boldly vulgar
that the timidly vulgar admire him.
ANNE EVANS, _Poems and Music._
We can't for a certainty tell
What mirth may molest us on Monday;
But, at least, to begin the week well,
Let us all be unhappy on Sunday.
These gardens, their walks and green bowers,
Might be free to the poor man for one day;
But no, the glad plants and gay flowers
Mustn't bloom or smell sweetly on Sunday.
Abroad we forbid folks to roam
For fear they get social or frisky;
But of course they can sit still at home,
And get dismally drunk upon whiskey.
LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.
La haine des faibles n'est pas si dangereuse que
leur amitié.
VAUVENARGUES, _Réflexions_.
To Matthew Arnold we must go to put us in the right, sir,
About his elevating scheme of "sweetness" and of "light," sir,
Which some folks say will one fine day achieve a marked ascendancy,
Though "Providence" it waters down into a "stream of tendency."
F. D., in _Pall Mall Gazette_.
Chambermaids use up more hair-oil than any
six men. If charged with purloining the same,
they lie about it. What do they care about a
hereafter? Absolutely nothing.
MARK TWAIN, _Choice Works_.
When sorely tempted to purloin
Your _pietà_ of Marc Antoine,
Fair virtue doth fair play enjoin,
Fair Virtuoso!
FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.
No man can be wise on an empty stomach.
_Bartle Massey_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Adam Bede_.
All tragedies are finished by a death,
All comedies are ended by a marriage;
The future states of both are left to faith,
For authors fear description might disparage
The worlds to come of both, or fall beneath.
LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.
The Bailli de Ferrette was always dressed in knee-breeches,
with a cocked hat and sword, the
slender proportions of which greatly resembled
those of his legs. "Do tell me, my dear Bailli," said
Montrond one day, "have you got three legs or three
swords?"
GRONOW, _Recollections_.
A Mexican lady's hair never curls--it's as straight
as an Indian's. Some people's hair won't curl
under any circumstances. My hair won't curl
under two shillings.
C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.
I've read the poets of our land,
Who sing of beauty and of love,
Who rave about a dimpled hand,
And write sweet sonnets on a glove.
But sweeter far than maiden's kiss,
And fairer far than Jouvin's best,
Is one red-labelled quart, I wis,
With Bass's well-known mark imprest.
And years may come, and years may go,
And fortune change as fortune will,
But may my Burton fountain flow,
In shade and sunshine clearly still,
And till life's night is closing grey,
My heart shall ever hold most dear
The liquor that I sing to-day--
My childhood's friend! my Bass's beer!
H. SAVILE CLARKE.
Women are much more like each other than men;
they have, in truth, but two passions: vanity and
love: these are their universal characteristics.
LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Letters to his Son_.
"After all, are not women necessary to your
happiness?"
"Alas!" sighed Maximilian, "it is but too
true. But women have unfortunately only one way of
making us happy, whilst they have thirty thousand
different modes of rendering us miserable."
HEINRICH HEINE, _The Florentine Nights_.
I love you! ay! it seems absurd,
Altho' to prove it I was sedulous;
The _ink_ is _black_ that writes the word,
Yet you will read it all _inc-red_-ulous.
Where was my sense, once so acute,
To dream myself a hopeful suitor?
I should have been much more _astute_;
I came to you, you know, _as tutor_!
My passion on an instant grew--
(Spontaneous love is scarce a crime!).
How swift those early minutes flew!
And, _odd_ to say, 'twas _even_-time!
Maddened with love, I penned a note,
And placed it where 'twould catch your sight;
Alas for me! but when I _wrote_,
Of course I thought that I _did right_!
ROBERT REECE, in _Comic Poets_.
The most dreadful thing against women is the
character of the men that praise them.
LADY ASHBURTON, _apud_ LORD HOUGHTON.
There's one Thomas Buckle, a London youth,
Who taught that the world was blind
Till he was born to proclaim the truth,
That matter is moulder of mind;
But I really can't fancy at all
How wheat, rice, and barley,
Made Dick, Tom, and Charlie
So tidy and trim,
Without help from Him
Who was preached both by Plato and Paul.
J. S. BLACKIE, _Musa Burschicosa_.
Sheridan's answer to Lord Lauderdale was excellent,
on the latter saying he would repeat
some good thing I had mentioned to him:
"Pray don't, my dear Lauderdale; a joke in your mouth
is no laughing matter."
THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.
Do you know why the rabbits are caught in the snare,
Or the tabby cat's shot on the tiles?
Why the tigers and lions creep out of their lair?
Why an ostrich will travel for miles?
Do you know why a sane man will whimper and cry,
And weep o'er a ribbon or glove?
Why a cook will put sugar for salt in a pie?
Do you know? Well, I'll tell you--it's Love.
_Flapper_, in H. P. STEPHENS's _Billee Taylor_.
I remember Curran once--in an action for
breach of promise of marriage, in which he was
counsel for the defendant, a young clergyman--thus
appealing to the jury: "Gentlemen, I entreat of
you not to ruin this young man by a vindictive verdict,
for though he has talents, and is in the Church, he may
rise!"
PHILLIPS, _Life of Curran_.
There are female women, and there are male
women.
CHARLES BUXTON, _Notes of Thought_.
I own fair faces not more fair
In Ettrick than in Portman Square,
And silly danglers just as silly
In Sherwood, as in Piccadilly.
W. M. PRAED.
I heard an anecdote at Oxford, of a porter encountering
on his rounds two undergraduates,
who were without their gowns, or out of bounds,
or out of hours. He challenged one: "Your name and
college?" They were given. Turning to the other: "And
pray, sir, what might your name be?" "Julius Cæsar,"
was the reply. "What, sir, do you mean to say your
name is Julius Cæsar?" "Sir, you did not ask me what
it is, but what it _might_ be."
W. H. HARRISON, _Reminiscences_.
I always can tell a
Preoccupied man by his tumbled umbrella.
_Lady Matilda_, in G. O. TREVELYAN's _Ladies in Parliament_.
Talking of Doctor [Parr's] illegible manuscript,
"Ay," said [Basil Montagu], "his letters are
illegible, except they contain a commission or an
announcement that he is coming to see you, and then no
man can write plainer."
MISS MITFORD, _Life and Letters_.
I never nursed a dear gazelle;
But I was given a parroquet--
(How I did nurse him if unwell!)
He's imbecile, but lingers yet.
He's green, with an enchanting tuft;
He melts me with his small black eye;
He'd look inimitable stuff'd,
And knows it--but he will not die!
C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.
Some reformer was clamouring for the expulsion
of the Bishops from the House of Lords, but
said he would not have them all go; he would
leave two. "To keep up the breed, I suppose," said
Alvanley.
CHARLES GREVILLE, _Diary_.
You women regard men just as you buy books--you
never care about what is in them, but how
they are bound and lettered.
_Damas_, in LORD LYTTON's _Lady of Lyons_.
_EPITAPH ON LORD L----._
Here lies L.'s body, from his soul asunder:
He once was on the turf, and now is _under_.
SCROPE DAVIES, _apud_ MOORE.
_A SUITABLE BRIDE._
My friend Admiral E. E., shortly after his return
from a cruise, met an old acquaintance in the
streets of ----, who said, after the usual salutations
had passed, "They telt me, Admiral, that ye had
got married." The Admiral, hoping for a compliment,
replied, "Why, Bailie, I am getting on; I'm not so young
as I was, you see, and none of the girls will have me."
On which the Bailie, with perfect good faith and simplicity,
replied, "'Deed, Admiral, I was na evenin' yer to
a lassie, but there's mony a fine, respeckit, _half-worn_
wumman wad be glad to tak ye."
FREDERICK LOCKER, _Patchwork_.
_ON THE WORKS OF THE LAKE POETS._
They come from the Lakes--an appropriate quarter
For poems diluted with plenty of water.
REV. HENRY TOWNSHEND.
And I whispered, "I guess
The sweet secret thou keepest,
And the dainty distress
That thou wistfully weepest;
And the question is, 'Licence or banns?' though undoubtedly
banns are the cheapest."
Then her white hand I clasped,
And with kisses I crowned it.
But she glared and she gasped,
And she muttered, "Confound it!"
Or at least it was something like that, but the noise of
the omnibus drowned it.
LEWIS CARROLL, _Phantasmagoria_.
It was Lady Cork who had originated the idea that,
after all, heaven would perhaps turn out very
dull to her _when she got there; sitting on damp
clouds_, and _singing "God save the King,"_ being her idea
of the principal amusements there.
FANNY KEMBLE, _Record of a Girlhood_.
_ON FEMININE TALKATIVENESS._
How wisely Nature, ordering all below,
Forbade a beard on woman's chin to grow!
For how could she be shaved, whate'er the skill,
Whose tongue would never let her chin be still?
ANON.
When Tennyson entered the Oxford Theatre to
receive his honorary degree of D.C.L., his locks
hanging in admired disorder on his shoulders,
dishevelled and unkempt, a voice from the gallery was
heard crying out to him, "Did your mother call you
early, dear?"
J. C. YOUNG, _Diary_.
"Ha! ha!" he said, "you loathe your ways,
You writhe at these my words of warning,
In agony your hands you raise!"
(And so they did, for they were yawning.)
"Ho! ho!" he cries, "you bow your crests--
My eloquence has set you weeping;
In shame you bend upon your breasts!"
(And so they did, for they were sleeping.)
W. S. GILBERT, _Bab Ballads_.
You may safely flatter any woman, from her understanding
down to the exquisite taste of her fan.
LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Letters to his Son_.
_ON LADIES' ACCOMPLISHMENTS._
Your dressing, dancing, gadding, where's the good in?
Sweet lady, tell me--can you make a pudding?
_Epigrams in Distich._
Lord Braxfield, at whist, exclaimed to a lady
with whom he was playing, "What are ye doing,
ye damned auld ----?" and then, recollecting
himself, "Your pardon's begged, madam; I took ye for
my ain wife."
LORD MACAULAY, _Life_.
Then life was thornless to our ken,
And, Bramble-Rise, thy hills were then
A rise without a bramble.
FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.
John Hamilton Reynolds was specially
distinguished for the aptness of his quotations.
Finding him one day lunching at the Garrick,
I asked him if the beef he was eating was good. "It
would have been," he answered, "if damned custom had
not _brazed_ it so."
J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.
While spending an evening at [Mendelssohn's]
house, a note, with a ticket enclosed, was put in
my hands. The note ran thus: "The Directors
of the Leipzig Concerts beg leave to present to Mr.
_Shurely_ a ticket of the concert of to-morrow." Whereupon
Mendelssohn ran to the pianoforte, and immediately
began to play the subject from the chorus of the "Messiah,"
"_Surely_ he hath borne," etc.
H. F. CHORLEY, _Life_.
Fhairshon had a son,
Who married Noah's daughter,
And nearly spoilt ta flood,
By trinking up ta water:
Which he would have done,
I at least believe it,
Had ta mixture peen
Only half Glenlivet.
_Bon Gaultier Ballads._
After the execution of the eighteen malefactors
[in 1787], a female was bawling an account of
them, but called them nineteen. A gentleman
said to her, "Why do you say nineteen? There were
but eighteen hanged." She replied, "Sir, I did not know
you had been reprieved."
HORACE WALPOLE, _Correspondence_.
_ON THE MARRIAGE OF JOB WALL AND MARY BEST._
Job, wanting a partner, thought he'd be blest,
If, of all womankind, he selected the Best;
For, said he, of all evils that compass the globe,
A bad wife would most try the patience of Job.
The Best, then, he chose, and made bone of his bone,
Though 'twas clear to his friends she'd be Best left alone;
For, though Best of her sex, she's the weakest of all,
If it's true that the weakest must go to the Wall.
HICKS, _apud_ J. C. YOUNG.
La vertu des femmes est peut-être une question du
tempérament.
BALZAC, _Physiologie du Mariage_.
_ON ONE STEALING A POUND OF CANDLES._
Light-fingered Catch, to keep his hands in ure,
Stole anything,--of this you may be sure,
That he thinks all his own that once he handles,--
For practice' sake did steal a pound of candles;
Was taken in the act:--oh, foolish wight!
To steal such things as needs must come to light!
_A Collection of Epigrams_ (1727).
At Hook's, one day the conversation turned on the
Duke of Cumberland, and a question asked who
he married. "Don't you know?" said Cannon;
"the Princess de _Psalms_ (Salms),--good enough for
_Hymn_ (him)."
W. JERDAN, _Memoirs_.
For me, I neither know nor care
Whether a parson ought to wear
A black dress or a white dress;
Fill'd with a trouble of my own--
A wife who preaches in her gown,
And lectures in her night-dress!
THOMAS HOOD.
Madame de ---- having said, in her intense
style, "I should like to be married in _English_,
in a language in which vows are so faithfully
kept," some one asked Frere, "What language, I wonder,
was _she_ married in?" "_Broken_ English, I suppose," answered
Frere.
THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.
Your magpies and stock-doves may flirt among trees,
And chatter their transports in groves, if they please;
But a house is much more to my taste than a tree,
And for groves, O! a good grove of chimneys for me.
CHARLES MORRIS, _Lyra Urbanica_.
Again they asked me to marry them, and again I
declined, when they cried,--"Oh, cruel man!
This is too much--too much!" I told them
that it was on account of the muchness that I declined.
C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.
On one of the country gentlemen saying in Parliament,
"We must return to the food of our ancestors,"
somebody asked, "What food does he
mean?" "Thistles, I suppose," said Tierney.
THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.
Maidens then were innocent,
Blushing at a compliment,
Or a gaze.
But a blush a vanish'd grace is,
For young ladies paint their faces
Now-a-days,
Black their eyelids till they stare,
Wash with soda, till their hair
Looks like maize;
'Tis the fashion to be blonde
_À la mode du demi-monde_
Now-a-days.
J. JEMMETT BROWNE, _Songs of Many Seasons_.
[Lady Charlotte Lindsay] said she had
"sprained her ankle so often, and been told
that it was worse than breaking her leg, that
she said she had come to look upon a broken leg as a
positive advantage."
LORD HOUGHTON, _Monographs_.
Blows are sarcasms turned stupid.
GEORGE ELIOT, _Felix Holt_.
They grieved for those who perished with the cutter,
And also for the biscuit-casks and butter.
LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.
Social arrangements are awful miscarriages;
Cause of all crime is our system of marriages.
Poets with sonnets, and lovers with trysts,
Kindle the ire of the Positivists.
Husbands and wives should be all one community:
Exquisite freedom with absolute unity.
Wedding-rings worse are than manacled wrists--
Such is the creed of the Positivists.
MORTIMER COLLINS, _The British Birds_.
Fox, whose pecuniary embarrassments were universally
recognized, being attacked by a severe
indisposition, which confined him to his apartment,
Dudley frequently visited him. In the course of
conversation, Fox, alluding to his complaints, remarked
that he was compelled to observe much regularity in his
diet and hours; adding, "I live by rule, like clockwork."
"Yes," replied Dudley; "I suppose you mean you go
by _tick, tick, tick_."
SIR NATHANIEL WRAXALL, _Memoirs_.
_PROBATUM EST._
One loss has a companion always. _Semper_,
When people lose their train, they lose their temper.
SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.
Working by the hour tends to make one moral.
A plumber working by the job, trying to unscrew
a rusty, refractory nut, in a cramped position, where
the tongs continually slipped off, would swear; but I
never heard one of them swear, or exhibit the least
impatience at such a vexation, working by the hour.
Nothing can move a man who is paid by the hour. How
sweet the flight of time seems to his calm mind!
C. D. WARNER, _My Summer in a Garden_.
It greets me in my festal hours,
It brings my gloom relief;
It sprinkles life with loveliest flowers
And plucks the sting from grief.
I'd smile at poverty and pain;
I'd welcome death with glee--
If to the last I might retain
My own--my upper G!
H. S. LEIGH, _Carols of Cockayne_.
"Milton Perkins," said the Siren, "not thy wealth do I admire,
But the intellect that flashes from those eyes of opal fire;
And methinks the name thou bearest cannot surely be misplaced;
And--embrace me, Mister Perkins!" Milton Perkins her embraced.
BRET HARTE, _Complete Works_.
Truth-vendors and medicine-vendors usually
recommend swallowing. When a man sees his
livelihood in a pill or a proposition, he likes to
have orders for the dose, and not curious inquiries.
_Felix Holt_, in GEORGE ELIOT's novel.
Stuart Mill on Mind and Matter
All our old Beliefs would scatter:
Stuart Mill exerts his skill
To make an end of Mind and Matter.
But had I skill, like Stuart Mill,
His own position I could shatter:
The weight of Mill I count as Nil--
If Mill has neither Mind nor Matter.
LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.
"And how many hours a day did you do lessons?"
said Alice.
"Ten hours the first day," said the Mock
Turtle; "nine the next, and so on."
"What a curious plan!" exclaimed Alice.
"That's the reason they're called lessons," the Gryphon
remarked "because they lessen from day to day."
LEWIS CARROLL, _Alice in Wonderland_.
Quiconque n'a pas de caractère n'est pas un
homme: c'est une chose.
CHAMFORT, _Maximes_.
It's hard work to tell which is Old Harry when
everybody's got boots on.
_Mrs. Poyser_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Adam Bede_.
I want you to come and pass sentence
On two or three books with a plot;
Of course you know "Janet's Repentance"?
I'm reading Sir _Waverley_ Scott,
The story of Edgar and Lucy,
How thrilling, romantic, and true!
The Master (his bride was a _goosey_!)
Reminds me of you.
They tell me Cockayne has been crowning
A poet whose garland endures:
It was you who first spouted me Browning--
That stupid old Browning of yours!
His vogue and his verve are alarming;
I'm anxious to give him his due,
But, Fred, he's not nearly so charming
A poet as you!
FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.
Joseph Gillon was a Writer to the Signet. Calling
on him one day in his writing office, Sir Walter
Scott said, "Why, Joseph, this place is as hot as
an oven." "Well," quoth Gillon, "and isn't it here that
I make my bread?"
LOCKHART, _Life of Scott_.
Forever! 'tis a single word!
Our rude forefathers deem'd it two;
Can you imagine so absurd
A view?
Forever! what abysms of woe
The word reveals, what frenzy, what
Despair! For ever (printed so)
Did not.
And nevermore must printer do
As men did longago; but run
"For" into "ever," bidding two
Be one.
Forever! passion-fraught, it throws
O'er the dim page a gloom, a glamour:
It's sweet, it's strange, and I suppose
It's grammar.
C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.
Walking down St. James's Street, Lord Chelmsford
was accosted by a stranger, who exclaimed,
"Mr. Birch, I believe?" "If you believe that,
sir, you'll believe anything," replied the ex-chancellor, as
he passed on.
BERKELEY, _Life and Recollections_.
You snared me, Rose, with ribbons,
Your rose-mouth made me thrall.
Brief--briefer far than Gibbon's,
Was my "Decline and Fall."
AUSTIN DOBSON, _Vignettes in Rhyme_.
The reason we dislike vanity in others is because
it is perpetually hurting our own.
LORD LYTTON's _Pelham_.
Then nymphs had bluer eyes than hose,
England then measured men by blows,
And measured time by candles.
FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.
A woman's choice usually means taking the only
man she can get.
_Mrs. Cadwallader_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Middlemarch_.
To charm the girls he never spoke--
Although his voice was fine;
He found the most convenient way
Was just to drop a line.
And many a gudgeon of the pond,
If they could speak to-day,
Would own, with grief, this angler had
A mighty "taking" way.
JOHN GODFREY SAXE, _Poems_.
I am always afraid of a fool: one cannot be sure
that he is not a knave as well.
W. HAZLITT, _Characteristics_.
The people is much given to stoning its prophets
that it may worship their reliques with the greater
fervency: dogs that bark at us to-day lick our
bones to-morrow with true canine fidelity.
HEINRICH HEINE, _Ludwig Beorne_.
Money makes a man laugh. A blind fiddler
playing to a company, and playing but scurvily,
the company laughed at him. His boy that led
him, perceiving it, cried, "Father, let us begone; they
do nothing but laugh at you." "Hold peace, boy," said
the fiddler; "we shall have their money presently, and
then we will laugh at them."
SELDEN, _Table Talk_.
In candent ire the solar splendour flames;
The foles, languescent, pend from arid rames;
His humid front the cive, anheling, wipes,
And dreams of erring on ventiferous ripes.
How dulce to vive occult from mortal eyes,
Dorm on the herb with none to supervise,
Carp the suave berries from the crescent vine,
And bibe the flow from longicaudate kine!
Me wretched! Let me curr to quercine shades!
Effund your albid hausts, lactiferous maids!
Oh, might I vole to some umbrageous clump,--
Depart--be off--exude--evade--erump!
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
He slaps me gently on the back. He's stopped too
long in the wine-cellar. A little tasting is a
dangerous thing.
F. C. BURNAND, _Happy Thoughts_.
_THE MAIDENS._
Lovers, we pray you, gaining our consents,
Let us, too, have _our_ mediæval bents;
Give us, for cricket matches, tournaments.
_THE WIDOWERS._
We are stout, nor will uncomfortably truss
Our arms and legs, like fowls; no jousts for us;
In armour we should look ridiculous.
_THE FATHERS._
Of money, tournaments would cost a heap;
Humour your sweethearts, sons, with something cheap;
But look to settlements before you leap.
_Once a Week._
He [Samuel Beazley] suffered considerably a short
time before his decease, and, his usual spirits
occasionally forsaking him, he one day wrote
so melancholy a letter that the friend to whom it was
addressed, observed, in his reply, that it was "like the
first chapter of Jeremiah." "You are mistaken, my
dear fellow," retorted the wit; "it is the last chapter of
Samuel."
J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.
No one can perceive, as I'm a sinner,
A very marked improvement in the dinner.
We still consume, with mingled shame and grief,
Veal that is tottering on the verge of beef,
Veal void of stuffing, widowed of its ham,
Or the roast shoulder of an ancient ram.
_Decius Mus_, in G. O. TREVELYAN's _Horace at Athens_.
"As for that," said Waldershare, "sensible men are
all of the same religion."
"And pray what is that?" inquired the
prince.
"Sensible men never tell."
LORD BEACONSFIELD, _Endymion_.
_ON AN OLD LOVE._
Upon the cabin stairs we met, the voyage nearly over;
You leant upon his arm, my pet, from Calais unto Dover!
And _he_ is looking very glad, tho' I am feeling sadder,
That _I'm_ not your companion-lad on that companion-ladder!
J. ASHBY STERRY, in _English Epigrams_.
It strikes me that one mother-in-law is about
enough to have in a family--unless you're very
fond of excitement.
C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.
"Come here, my boy, hould up your head,
And look like a jintleman, sir;
Jist tell me who King Jonah was;
Now tell me, if you can, sir."
"King Jonah was the strongest man
That ever wore a crown, sir;
For though the whale did swallow him,
It couldn't keep him down, sir."