You"re at an evening party, with A group of pleasant folks,-- You venture quietly to crack The least of little jokes,-- A lady doesn"t catch the point, And begs you to explain,-- Alas! for one who drops a jest And takes it up again!
You drop a pretty _jeu-de-mot_ Into a neighbour"s ears, Who likes to give you credit for The clever things he hears; And so he hawks your jest about, The old, authentic one, Just breaking off the point of it, And leaving out the pun!
JOHN G.o.dFREY SAXE, _Poems_.
[Montrond"s] death was a very wretched one.
Left alone to the tender mercies of a well-known "lorette" of those days, Desiree R----, as he lay upon his bed, between fits of pain and drowsiness, he could see his fair friend picking from his shelves the choicest specimens of his old Sevres china, or other articles of _vertu_. Turning to his doctor, he said, with a gleam of his old fun, "Qu"elle est attachante, cette femme-la!"
GRONOW, _Recollections_.
We love thee, Ann Maria Smith, And in thy condescension We see a future full of joys Too numerous to mention.
There"s Cupid"s arrow in thy glance, That by thy love"s coercion Has reached our melting heart of hearts, And asked for one insertion.
There"s music in thy honest tone, And silver in thy laughter; And truth--but we will give the full Particulars hereafter.
R. H. NEWELL, _Orpheus C. Kerr Papers_.
"Of course you know the three reasons which take men into society in London?" I said, after a pause.
"No, I don"t. What are they?"
"Either to find a wife, or to look after one"s wife, or to look after somebody else"s."
L. OLIPHANT, _Piccadilly_.
_ON ONE WHO HAD A LARGE NOSE AND SQUINTED._
The reason why Doctor Dash squints, I suppose, Is because his two eyes are afraid of his nose.
ANON., in MOORE"s _Diary_.
Never attack whole bodies of any kind. Individuals forgive sometimes; but bodies and societies never do.
LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Letters to his Son_.
_ON THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES._
St.u.r.dy Tom Paine, biographers relate, Once with his friends engaged in warm debate.
Said they, "Minorities are always right;"
Said he, "The truth is just the opposite."
Finding them stubborn, "Frankly, now," said he, "In this opinion do ye all agree; All, every one, without exception?" When They thus affirmed unanimously, "Then, Correct," said he, "my sentiment must be, For I myself am the minority."
R. GARNETT, _Idylls and Epigrams_.
The Indians on the Overland Route live on route and herbs. They are an intemperate people.
They drink with impunity, or anybody who invites them.
C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward"s Lecture_.
_ON ONE WEARING FALSE HAIR._
They say that thou dost tinge (O monstrous lie!) The hair that thou so raven-black dost buy.
LUCILIUS, trans. by R. GARNETT.
A nation does wisely if not well, in starving her men of genius. Fatten them, and they are done for.
CHARLES BUXTON, _Notes of Thought_.
When the enterprising burglar"s not a-burgling, When the cut-throat isn"t occupied with crime He loves to hear the little brook a-gurgling, And listen to the merry village chime.
When the coster"s finished jumping on his mother, He loves to lie a-basking in the sun-- Oh! take one consideration with another, The policeman"s lot is not a happy one!
W. S. GILBERT, _Pirates of Penzance_.
The young girl said: "The gentleman must be very rich, for he is very ugly." The public judges in a similar manner: "The man must be very learned, for he is very tiresome."
HEINRICH HEINE, _Thoughts and Fancies_.
And he chirped and sang, and skipped about, and laughed with laughter hearty, He was so wonderfully active for so very stout a party.
And I said, "O gentle pie-man, why so very, very merry?
Is it purity of conscience, or your one-and-seven sherry?"
W. S. GILBERT, _Bab Ballads_.
Speculation--a word that sometimes begins with its second letter.
HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.
He remembers the ball at the Ferry, And the ride, and the gate, and the vow, And the rose that you gave him--that very Same rose he is treasuring now (Which his blanket he"s kicked on his trunk, Miss, And insists on his legs being free; And his language to me from his bunk, Miss, Is frequent and painful and free).
BRET HARTE, _Complete Works_.