Quips and Quiddities Part 16

_NURSERY RHYME._

What is an Englishman made of?

Roast beef and jam tart, And a pint of good Clar't, And that's what an Englishman's made of.

What is a Frenchman, pray, made of?

Horse steak, and frog fritter, And absinthe so bitter, And that's what a Frenchman is made of.

SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.

Marriage is a desperate thing. The frogs in aesop were extreme wise; they had a great mind to some water, but they would not leap into the well, because they could not get out again.

SELDEN, _Table Talk_.

("Don't speak so hard of ----; he lives on your good graces.") That accounts for his being so thin.

LADY ASHBURTON, _apud_ LORD HOUGHTON.

We are wise--and we make ourselves hazy; We are foolish--and so, go to church; While Sambo but laughs, and is lazy (Vile discipline! lend me thy birch); He dreams of no life save the present, His virtue is but when it suits; Sometimes, which is not quite so pleasant, I miss coat or boots.

_Once a Week._

You remember Thurlow's answer to some one complaining of the injustice of a company, "Why, you never expected justice from a company, did you? They have neither a soul to save, nor a body to kick."

SYDNEY SMITH, _Life and Letters_.

Elliston, the actor, a self-educated man, was playing cribbage one evening, with Lamb, and on drawing out his first card, exclaimed, "When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war." "Yes,"

replied Lamb, "and when _you_ meet Greek, you don't understand it."

_Life of Rev. W Harness._

To Justice Park's brother, who was a great church-goer, some one applied the words, "_Parcus_ deorum cultor."

THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.

"You'll soon get used to her looks," said he, "And a very nice girl you'll find her; She may very well pa.s.s for forty-three, In the dusk, with a light behind her!"

_Judge_, in W. S. GILBERT's _Trial by Jury_.

"My brethren," said Swift in a sermon, "there are three sorts of pride--of birth, of riches, and of talents. I shall not now speak of the latter, none of you being liable to that abominable vice."

HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.

No doubt this patience, when the world is d.a.m.ning us, Is philosophic in our former friends; It is also pleasant to be deem'd magnanimous, The more so in obtaining our own ends.

Revenge in person's certainly no virtue, But then 'tis not _my_ fault if _others_ hurt you.

LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.

He was not an intellectual Croesus, but his pockets were full of sixpences.

LORD BEACONSFIELD, _Lothair_.

It's after a dinner at Freemason's Hall That the orator's talent shines brightest of all; When his eye becomes glazed, and his voice becomes thick, And he's had so much hock he can only say _hic_.

So the company leave him to slumber and snore Till he's put in a hat and conveyed to the door; And he finds, upon reaching his home in a cab, That his wife rather shines in the gift of the gab.

H. S. LEIGH, _Carols of c.o.c.kayne_.

One of our countrymen having been introduced by M. de la Rochefoucauld to Mademoiselle Bigottini, the beautiful and graceful dancer, in the course of conversation with this gentleman, asked him in what part of the theatre he was placed; upon which he replied, "Mademoiselle, _dans un loge roti_," instead of "_grille_." The lady could not understand what he meant, until his introducer explained the mistake, observing, "_Ces diables d'Anglais pensent toujours a leur Rosbif_."

GRONOW, _Recollections_.

The sea was wet as wet could be, The sands were dry as dry, You could not see a cloud, because No cloud was in the sky: No birds were flying overhead-- There were no birds to fly.

LEWIS CARROLL, _Through the Looking-Gla.s.s_.

A man of business should always have his eyes open, but must often seem to have them shut.

LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Maxims_.

Next morning twelve citizens came ('Twas the coroner bade them attend) To the end that it might be determined How the man had determined his end!

JOHN G.o.dFREY SAXE, _Poems_.

I remember on one occasion acting in "Venice Preserved." A long and rather drowsy dying speech of my poor friend Jaffier was "dragging its slow length along," when one of the gallery, in a tone of great impatience, called out very loudly, "Ah now, die at once;" to which another from the other side immediately replied, "Be quiet, you blackguard," then, turning with a patronizing tone to the lingering Jaffier, "Take your time!"

W. C. MACREADY, _Diary_.

The days they grow shorter and shorter, The town's worse than ever for smoke, Invention, Necessity's daughter!

How long must we blacken and choke?

Much longer we ne'er can endure it, The smother each resident d.a.m.ns; Unless something's done to cure it, 'Twill cure _us_ like so many hams.