The Project Gutenberg eBook ofGallery of Comicalities; Embracing Humorous SketchesThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: Gallery of Comicalities; Embracing Humorous SketchesAuthor: Robert CruikshankGeorge CruikshankRobert SeymourRelease date: May 27, 2014 [eBook #45784]Most recently updated: October 24, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Chris Curnow, Christian Boissonnas and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net(This file was produced from images generously madeavailable by The Internet Archive)*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GALLERY OF COMICALITIES; EMBRACING HUMOROUS SKETCHES ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: Gallery of Comicalities; Embracing Humorous SketchesAuthor: Robert CruikshankGeorge CruikshankRobert SeymourRelease date: May 27, 2014 [eBook #45784]Most recently updated: October 24, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Chris Curnow, Christian Boissonnas and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net(This file was produced from images generously madeavailable by The Internet Archive)
Title: Gallery of Comicalities; Embracing Humorous Sketches
Author: Robert CruikshankGeorge CruikshankRobert Seymour
Author: Robert Cruikshank
George Cruikshank
Robert Seymour
Release date: May 27, 2014 [eBook #45784]Most recently updated: October 24, 2024
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Chris Curnow, Christian Boissonnas and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net(This file was produced from images generously madeavailable by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GALLERY OF COMICALITIES; EMBRACING HUMOROUS SKETCHES ***
The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
George CruikshankGEORGE CRUIKSHANK,Eminent Caricaturist,1792-1879.
GEORGE CRUIKSHANK,Eminent Caricaturist,1792-1879.
BY
THE BROTHERS
ROBERT and GEORGE CRUIKSHANK,
Title Page Decoration
ROBERT SEYMOUR,
AND OTHERS.
London:Charles Hindley,41, Booksellers' Row, St. Clement Danes, Strand, w.c.
Most of the "Comicalities" here re-produced infac similefirst appeared in the columns ofBell's Life in London and Sporting Chronicleduring the years 1827-8 and 9, and caused an unprecedented increase in the weekly sale of that journal.
As a painter ofLifeandNature, in all their truth and eccentricity,George Cruikshankmay be truly said to stand unrivalled, and to be only equalled, even in former times by the inimitableHogarth. The present Series has been principally selected from "Cruikshank'sIllustrations ofTimeandPhrenology," and hisIllustrationsto Mr. Wright's "Mornings at Bow Street" and the sequel entitled "More Mornings at Bow Street"—works which are replete with wit and humour.
Robert Cruikshank, the elder brother of George Cruikshank, Illustrated many books, &c., including Pierce Egan's, "The Finishto the Adventures ofTom, Jerry, andLogic, in their pursuits throughLifein and out of London," 1827. Died March 13, 1856. Aged 65 years.
Robert Seymour, a graphic humourist was born in London, about the year 1800. He was apprenticed to Mr. Thomas Vaughan, a pattern-drawer in Spitalfields, and his practice in that department of art appears to have given him the facility and accuracy of pencil for which he was afterwards so distinguished. Within a very short period of fulfilling his term of apprenticeship, he commenced, on his own account, as a painter in oils, and must have been tolerably expert at that early age, as already in the spring of 1822, we find him exhibiting a picture of some pretensions at the Royal Academy.
He executed various other oil paintings about this period, but the more pressing demand on his talents was for drawings on wood, a mode of book illustration then in great vogue. The various illustrated books and periodicals published for the next ten or twelve years bespeak his popularity and industry in that department.
Although Seymour's hands were full of commissions for drawing on wood, he was always desirous of practice in a more independent department of art, feeling that the engraver, however competent, frequently failed to communicate the full force of his drawing. He, therefore, determined—where possible, on etching or engraving his own designs on copper or steel. He was very successful in full length sketches of public characters, and has left us many life-like portraits of members of the Turf and Drama between 1830 and 1836.
But of all Seymour's various works his "Humorous Sketches" were his prime favourites, and will best perpetuate his name. They were first published between the years 1834 and 1836, in detached prints at 3d. each, by Mr. Richard Carlisle, of Fleet Street. The entire collection was subsequently engraved on steel, and published in 1838, with letterpress description by Crowquill (Alfred Henry Forrester), the popular humourist of the day.
Figaro in London—the popular predecessor of Punch, edited and published by Gilbert A'Beckett from December 1831 to 1836—contains nearly 300 woodcuts after Seymour. They were also published separately as "Seymour's Caricature Gallery," and after his death were all re-published on six large sheets, each containing 20 subjects, as "Seymour's Comic Scrap Sheets."
Seymour's connection with the publication and illustration of the now famous Pickwick Papers is well known to the reading world by the printed statement of Mrs. Seymour, and Charles Dickens' own account of the origin of the Pickwick Papers, to need repetition.
Fourteen Illustrations of the Drama
FourteenILLUSTRATIONSof theDRAMAbyRobert Cruikshank.
The Spider and the Fly.THE SPIDER AND THE FLY.Will you walk into my parlour? said the Spider to the Fly,'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did see;You've only got to pop your head within inside of the door,You'll see so many curious things you never saw before!Will you, will you, will you, will you,Walk in pretty Fly, &c.
THE SPIDER AND THE FLY.Will you walk into my parlour? said the Spider to the Fly,'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did see;You've only got to pop your head within inside of the door,You'll see so many curious things you never saw before!Will you, will you, will you, will you,Walk in pretty Fly, &c.
Will you walk into my parlour? said the Spider to the Fly,'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did see;You've only got to pop your head within inside of the door,You'll see so many curious things you never saw before!Will you, will you, will you, will you,Walk in pretty Fly, &c.
Will you walk into my parlour? said the Spider to the Fly,'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did see;You've only got to pop your head within inside of the door,You'll see so many curious things you never saw before!Will you, will you, will you, will you,Walk in pretty Fly, &c.
Will you walk into my parlour? said the Spider to the Fly,
'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did see;
You've only got to pop your head within inside of the door,
You'll see so many curious things you never saw before!
Will you, will you, will you, will you,
Walk in pretty Fly, &c.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. I.
ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE DRAMA
"WHERE SHALL I DINE."
Where Shall I Dine.R. Cruikshank.
R. Cruikshank.
Where shall I dine? Would I could tell,For, hungry, faint, and weary,It is to me, I know full well,An all-important query.Thou Man of Flank! aCUTof thineWould silence hunger's call;But a Friend's,CUTalas! is mine,"The unkindest cut of all."O for a herring, dainty fish!Or tender lambkin's fry;But as in vain forMEATI wish,'TisMEETthat I should sigh.Ere by the freaks of Fortune floor'd,Such was my former luck,That under many a friendly boardMy trotters I could tuck.Now, though at dining hour I go,From house to house I roam,My rap too well the servants know,And "Master's not at home."'Tis getting cold, and wet, and dark,To fate I must resign;Duke Humphrey calls me to the Park,And with his Grace I'll dine.
Where shall I dine? Would I could tell,For, hungry, faint, and weary,It is to me, I know full well,An all-important query.Thou Man of Flank! aCUTof thineWould silence hunger's call;But a Friend's,CUTalas! is mine,"The unkindest cut of all."O for a herring, dainty fish!Or tender lambkin's fry;But as in vain forMEATI wish,'TisMEETthat I should sigh.Ere by the freaks of Fortune floor'd,Such was my former luck,That under many a friendly boardMy trotters I could tuck.Now, though at dining hour I go,From house to house I roam,My rap too well the servants know,And "Master's not at home."'Tis getting cold, and wet, and dark,To fate I must resign;Duke Humphrey calls me to the Park,And with his Grace I'll dine.
Where shall I dine? Would I could tell,For, hungry, faint, and weary,It is to me, I know full well,An all-important query.
Where shall I dine? Would I could tell,
For, hungry, faint, and weary,
It is to me, I know full well,
An all-important query.
Thou Man of Flank! aCUTof thineWould silence hunger's call;But a Friend's,CUTalas! is mine,"The unkindest cut of all."
Thou Man of Flank! aCUTof thine
Would silence hunger's call;
But a Friend's,CUTalas! is mine,
"The unkindest cut of all."
O for a herring, dainty fish!Or tender lambkin's fry;But as in vain forMEATI wish,'TisMEETthat I should sigh.
O for a herring, dainty fish!
Or tender lambkin's fry;
But as in vain forMEATI wish,
'TisMEETthat I should sigh.
Ere by the freaks of Fortune floor'd,Such was my former luck,That under many a friendly boardMy trotters I could tuck.
Ere by the freaks of Fortune floor'd,
Such was my former luck,
That under many a friendly board
My trotters I could tuck.
Now, though at dining hour I go,From house to house I roam,My rap too well the servants know,And "Master's not at home."
Now, though at dining hour I go,
From house to house I roam,
My rap too well the servants know,
And "Master's not at home."
'Tis getting cold, and wet, and dark,To fate I must resign;Duke Humphrey calls me to the Park,And with his Grace I'll dine.
'Tis getting cold, and wet, and dark,
To fate I must resign;
Duke Humphrey calls me to the Park,
And with his Grace I'll dine.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. II.
"THE PILOT."
The Pilot.R. Cruikshank.
R. Cruikshank.
Thou, guardian Pilot of the night,One favour we would ax—Tell us, old Cock, and tell us right,Where we can get some Max?We need the skilful pilot's aidAmid the billows' roar,And pilots still I find, old Blade,Are handy lads ashore.Then steer us for a friendly portAnd keep the wessel steady,And you shall have a dram of short—In brandy, rum, or Deady.With bread and cheese I'll stow your hold;I likes a hearty grubber;But, shiver me, it's getting cold,So take the helm, you lubber.Come, Poll, my buxom wench make sail,I'm one as never fears man,To reach our port we cannot failWith such an able steersman.Then come, old Boy, there's nought to pay,For I will be your banker;Nor do I care how long you stayWherever we cast anchor.
Thou, guardian Pilot of the night,One favour we would ax—Tell us, old Cock, and tell us right,Where we can get some Max?We need the skilful pilot's aidAmid the billows' roar,And pilots still I find, old Blade,Are handy lads ashore.Then steer us for a friendly portAnd keep the wessel steady,And you shall have a dram of short—In brandy, rum, or Deady.With bread and cheese I'll stow your hold;I likes a hearty grubber;But, shiver me, it's getting cold,So take the helm, you lubber.Come, Poll, my buxom wench make sail,I'm one as never fears man,To reach our port we cannot failWith such an able steersman.Then come, old Boy, there's nought to pay,For I will be your banker;Nor do I care how long you stayWherever we cast anchor.
Thou, guardian Pilot of the night,One favour we would ax—Tell us, old Cock, and tell us right,Where we can get some Max?
Thou, guardian Pilot of the night,
One favour we would ax—
Tell us, old Cock, and tell us right,
Where we can get some Max?
We need the skilful pilot's aidAmid the billows' roar,And pilots still I find, old Blade,Are handy lads ashore.
We need the skilful pilot's aid
Amid the billows' roar,
And pilots still I find, old Blade,
Are handy lads ashore.
Then steer us for a friendly portAnd keep the wessel steady,And you shall have a dram of short—In brandy, rum, or Deady.
Then steer us for a friendly port
And keep the wessel steady,
And you shall have a dram of short—
In brandy, rum, or Deady.
With bread and cheese I'll stow your hold;I likes a hearty grubber;But, shiver me, it's getting cold,So take the helm, you lubber.
With bread and cheese I'll stow your hold;
I likes a hearty grubber;
But, shiver me, it's getting cold,
So take the helm, you lubber.
Come, Poll, my buxom wench make sail,I'm one as never fears man,To reach our port we cannot failWith such an able steersman.
Come, Poll, my buxom wench make sail,
I'm one as never fears man,
To reach our port we cannot fail
With such an able steersman.
Then come, old Boy, there's nought to pay,For I will be your banker;Nor do I care how long you stayWherever we cast anchor.
Then come, old Boy, there's nought to pay,
For I will be your banker;
Nor do I care how long you stay
Wherever we cast anchor.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. III.
"IS HE JEALOUS?"
Is He Jealous
"O fly with me, my lady fair—I love and I adore you;Henceforth the heart and fortune shareOf him who kneels before you."Then listen to thy lover's vows,Nor of vain scruples tell us;Why care a pin about your spouse—Confound him!—is he jealous?""Go, get you gone, you naughty man,Nor dare attempt my virtue;I hide my blushes with my fan,Yet I've no wish to hurt you."Then, gay Lothario! persevere—Still urge thy passion brisker;Nor dread an interloper here,Thou man of bushy whisker!If, armed with poker and with pop,Poor Spouse should be so rude nowAs at this moment in to drop,Faith! wouldn't he intrude now?O, married dames! when lovers' sighsSteal softly on your ear,Shun the temptation, if you're wise—The Devil's always near.
"O fly with me, my lady fair—I love and I adore you;Henceforth the heart and fortune shareOf him who kneels before you."Then listen to thy lover's vows,Nor of vain scruples tell us;Why care a pin about your spouse—Confound him!—is he jealous?""Go, get you gone, you naughty man,Nor dare attempt my virtue;I hide my blushes with my fan,Yet I've no wish to hurt you."Then, gay Lothario! persevere—Still urge thy passion brisker;Nor dread an interloper here,Thou man of bushy whisker!If, armed with poker and with pop,Poor Spouse should be so rude nowAs at this moment in to drop,Faith! wouldn't he intrude now?O, married dames! when lovers' sighsSteal softly on your ear,Shun the temptation, if you're wise—The Devil's always near.
"O fly with me, my lady fair—I love and I adore you;Henceforth the heart and fortune shareOf him who kneels before you.
"O fly with me, my lady fair—
I love and I adore you;
Henceforth the heart and fortune share
Of him who kneels before you.
"Then listen to thy lover's vows,Nor of vain scruples tell us;Why care a pin about your spouse—Confound him!—is he jealous?"
"Then listen to thy lover's vows,
Nor of vain scruples tell us;
Why care a pin about your spouse—
Confound him!—is he jealous?"
"Go, get you gone, you naughty man,Nor dare attempt my virtue;I hide my blushes with my fan,Yet I've no wish to hurt you."
"Go, get you gone, you naughty man,
Nor dare attempt my virtue;
I hide my blushes with my fan,
Yet I've no wish to hurt you."
Then, gay Lothario! persevere—Still urge thy passion brisker;Nor dread an interloper here,Thou man of bushy whisker!
Then, gay Lothario! persevere—
Still urge thy passion brisker;
Nor dread an interloper here,
Thou man of bushy whisker!
If, armed with poker and with pop,Poor Spouse should be so rude nowAs at this moment in to drop,Faith! wouldn't he intrude now?
If, armed with poker and with pop,
Poor Spouse should be so rude now
As at this moment in to drop,
Faith! wouldn't he intrude now?
O, married dames! when lovers' sighsSteal softly on your ear,Shun the temptation, if you're wise—The Devil's always near.
O, married dames! when lovers' sighs
Steal softly on your ear,
Shun the temptation, if you're wise—
The Devil's always near.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. IV.
"MACBETH."
Macbeth.
"What fearful vision strikes thy sight,What phantom haunts thy brain,That thus thou startest with affright,Thou sooty-visaged Thane?""No dagger stained with blood I view,To fill my soul with dread;ButSPIRITSpale of RUIN BLUEOfDeady—not theDEAD—"To clutch thee how this breast doth throb,Thou source of purest pleasure,Fain would I wash my sooty gobFrom yon Imperial measure!"Soon may the cordialMAXbe mine,My sinking heart to cheer;So my grim soul no more shall pineOnIntermediateBeer."And when theFLUIDwarms myFLUE,Rous'd by the generous stuff,I'm —— if I'm the Faker whoShall first cry, 'Hold—enough!'"
"What fearful vision strikes thy sight,What phantom haunts thy brain,That thus thou startest with affright,Thou sooty-visaged Thane?""No dagger stained with blood I view,To fill my soul with dread;ButSPIRITSpale of RUIN BLUEOfDeady—not theDEAD—"To clutch thee how this breast doth throb,Thou source of purest pleasure,Fain would I wash my sooty gobFrom yon Imperial measure!"Soon may the cordialMAXbe mine,My sinking heart to cheer;So my grim soul no more shall pineOnIntermediateBeer."And when theFLUIDwarms myFLUE,Rous'd by the generous stuff,I'm —— if I'm the Faker whoShall first cry, 'Hold—enough!'"
"What fearful vision strikes thy sight,What phantom haunts thy brain,That thus thou startest with affright,Thou sooty-visaged Thane?"
"What fearful vision strikes thy sight,
What phantom haunts thy brain,
That thus thou startest with affright,
Thou sooty-visaged Thane?"
"No dagger stained with blood I view,To fill my soul with dread;ButSPIRITSpale of RUIN BLUEOfDeady—not theDEAD—
"No dagger stained with blood I view,
To fill my soul with dread;
ButSPIRITSpale of RUIN BLUE
OfDeady—not theDEAD—
"To clutch thee how this breast doth throb,Thou source of purest pleasure,Fain would I wash my sooty gobFrom yon Imperial measure!
"To clutch thee how this breast doth throb,
Thou source of purest pleasure,
Fain would I wash my sooty gob
From yon Imperial measure!
"Soon may the cordialMAXbe mine,My sinking heart to cheer;So my grim soul no more shall pineOnIntermediateBeer.
"Soon may the cordialMAXbe mine,
My sinking heart to cheer;
So my grim soul no more shall pine
OnIntermediateBeer.
"And when theFLUIDwarms myFLUE,Rous'd by the generous stuff,I'm —— if I'm the Faker whoShall first cry, 'Hold—enough!'"
"And when theFLUIDwarms myFLUE,
Rous'd by the generous stuff,
I'm —— if I'm the Faker who
Shall first cry, 'Hold—enough!'"
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. V.
"THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL."
The School for ScandalR. Cruikshank.
R. Cruikshank.
What relish to the tea you sip,How smoothly it goes down,If a poor friend has made a slip,Or suffer'd Fortune's frown."Well! these are shocking things I hear,To doubt I much incline;At any rate, you know, my dear,It's no concern of mine."But if such courses folks will chose,And many do not doubt it,For us, you know, there's some excuse,If we should talk about it."There's something more, I plainly seeWhich you don't chose to utter;Do make a confidant of me—Do take some bread and butter."Scandal's a most delightful theme—A spring that ne'er will fail;But, Tabitha, you little dream,You're scalding Pussy's tail!Like the wild maniac is your breath—Of all mankind the pest—Who scatters poison, ruin, death,Then cries, "'Twas but in jest!"
What relish to the tea you sip,How smoothly it goes down,If a poor friend has made a slip,Or suffer'd Fortune's frown."Well! these are shocking things I hear,To doubt I much incline;At any rate, you know, my dear,It's no concern of mine."But if such courses folks will chose,And many do not doubt it,For us, you know, there's some excuse,If we should talk about it."There's something more, I plainly seeWhich you don't chose to utter;Do make a confidant of me—Do take some bread and butter."Scandal's a most delightful theme—A spring that ne'er will fail;But, Tabitha, you little dream,You're scalding Pussy's tail!Like the wild maniac is your breath—Of all mankind the pest—Who scatters poison, ruin, death,Then cries, "'Twas but in jest!"
What relish to the tea you sip,How smoothly it goes down,If a poor friend has made a slip,Or suffer'd Fortune's frown.
What relish to the tea you sip,
How smoothly it goes down,
If a poor friend has made a slip,
Or suffer'd Fortune's frown.
"Well! these are shocking things I hear,To doubt I much incline;At any rate, you know, my dear,It's no concern of mine.
"Well! these are shocking things I hear,
To doubt I much incline;
At any rate, you know, my dear,
It's no concern of mine.
"But if such courses folks will chose,And many do not doubt it,For us, you know, there's some excuse,If we should talk about it.
"But if such courses folks will chose,
And many do not doubt it,
For us, you know, there's some excuse,
If we should talk about it.
"There's something more, I plainly seeWhich you don't chose to utter;Do make a confidant of me—Do take some bread and butter."
"There's something more, I plainly see
Which you don't chose to utter;
Do make a confidant of me—
Do take some bread and butter."
Scandal's a most delightful theme—A spring that ne'er will fail;But, Tabitha, you little dream,You're scalding Pussy's tail!
Scandal's a most delightful theme—
A spring that ne'er will fail;
But, Tabitha, you little dream,
You're scalding Pussy's tail!
Like the wild maniac is your breath—Of all mankind the pest—Who scatters poison, ruin, death,Then cries, "'Twas but in jest!"
Like the wild maniac is your breath—
Of all mankind the pest—
Who scatters poison, ruin, death,
Then cries, "'Twas but in jest!"
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. VI.
"EVERY MAN HAS HIS FAULT."
Every Man Has His Faults
Doctor, thy accents, soft and bland,Are ever sure to please;What female bosom can withstandA Parson on his knees?"No more will I, with drunken sot,Carry connubial farce on;If thou, fond man will share my lot,And prove an upright Parson."With stagg'ring spouse no longer vex'd,Free from a useless charge,Henceforward love shall be the textOn which we'll both enlarge."A parson, naughty people say,Is but a sinful elf—Like road-post, pointing out the wayHe never takes himself."O, come and bless these Reverend arms,Nor scorn my holy vows;Why did hard Fate bestow such charmsUpon a drunken spouse."O, can it be a fault to loveA lady so divine?Then, by the powers that reign above,I own that fault is mine."
Doctor, thy accents, soft and bland,Are ever sure to please;What female bosom can withstandA Parson on his knees?"No more will I, with drunken sot,Carry connubial farce on;If thou, fond man will share my lot,And prove an upright Parson."With stagg'ring spouse no longer vex'd,Free from a useless charge,Henceforward love shall be the textOn which we'll both enlarge."A parson, naughty people say,Is but a sinful elf—Like road-post, pointing out the wayHe never takes himself."O, come and bless these Reverend arms,Nor scorn my holy vows;Why did hard Fate bestow such charmsUpon a drunken spouse."O, can it be a fault to loveA lady so divine?Then, by the powers that reign above,I own that fault is mine."
Doctor, thy accents, soft and bland,Are ever sure to please;What female bosom can withstandA Parson on his knees?
Doctor, thy accents, soft and bland,
Are ever sure to please;
What female bosom can withstand
A Parson on his knees?
"No more will I, with drunken sot,Carry connubial farce on;If thou, fond man will share my lot,And prove an upright Parson.
"No more will I, with drunken sot,
Carry connubial farce on;
If thou, fond man will share my lot,
And prove an upright Parson.
"With stagg'ring spouse no longer vex'd,Free from a useless charge,Henceforward love shall be the textOn which we'll both enlarge."
"With stagg'ring spouse no longer vex'd,
Free from a useless charge,
Henceforward love shall be the text
On which we'll both enlarge."
A parson, naughty people say,Is but a sinful elf—Like road-post, pointing out the wayHe never takes himself.
A parson, naughty people say,
Is but a sinful elf—
Like road-post, pointing out the way
He never takes himself.
"O, come and bless these Reverend arms,Nor scorn my holy vows;Why did hard Fate bestow such charmsUpon a drunken spouse.
"O, come and bless these Reverend arms,
Nor scorn my holy vows;
Why did hard Fate bestow such charms
Upon a drunken spouse.
"O, can it be a fault to loveA lady so divine?Then, by the powers that reign above,I own that fault is mine."
"O, can it be a fault to love
A lady so divine?
Then, by the powers that reign above,
I own that fault is mine."
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. VII.
"LOVE, LAW, AND PHYSIC."
Love, Law, and Physic."But love is blind, and lovers cannot seeThe petty follies that themselves commit."SHAKESPEARE.
"But love is blind, and lovers cannot seeThe petty follies that themselves commit."SHAKESPEARE.
"But love is blind, and lovers cannot seeThe petty follies that themselves commit."SHAKESPEARE.
"But love is blind, and lovers cannot seeThe petty follies that themselves commit."SHAKESPEARE.
"But love is blind, and lovers cannot see
The petty follies that themselves commit."
SHAKESPEARE.
"Lady, the Patient's very ill,"The pulse is sinking fast,"'Tis really time to make his will,"I'm sure he cannot last."Though, as we bear him to his grave,"Your grief you cannot smother,"As one man's life I cannot save,"I'll soon provide another."This language we might well suppose,Would at such time have shock'd her;But the poor Lady's looks discloseNo wrath towards the Doctor.Then, Lawyer, all in vain you sue,For Physic must succeed,And what, alas! remains for you?The WILL—without theDEED.
"Lady, the Patient's very ill,"The pulse is sinking fast,"'Tis really time to make his will,"I'm sure he cannot last."Though, as we bear him to his grave,"Your grief you cannot smother,"As one man's life I cannot save,"I'll soon provide another."This language we might well suppose,Would at such time have shock'd her;But the poor Lady's looks discloseNo wrath towards the Doctor.Then, Lawyer, all in vain you sue,For Physic must succeed,And what, alas! remains for you?The WILL—without theDEED.
"Lady, the Patient's very ill,"The pulse is sinking fast,"'Tis really time to make his will,"I'm sure he cannot last.
"Lady, the Patient's very ill,
"The pulse is sinking fast,
"'Tis really time to make his will,
"I'm sure he cannot last.
"Though, as we bear him to his grave,"Your grief you cannot smother,"As one man's life I cannot save,"I'll soon provide another."
"Though, as we bear him to his grave,
"Your grief you cannot smother,
"As one man's life I cannot save,
"I'll soon provide another."
This language we might well suppose,Would at such time have shock'd her;But the poor Lady's looks discloseNo wrath towards the Doctor.
This language we might well suppose,
Would at such time have shock'd her;
But the poor Lady's looks disclose
No wrath towards the Doctor.
Then, Lawyer, all in vain you sue,For Physic must succeed,And what, alas! remains for you?The WILL—without theDEED.
Then, Lawyer, all in vain you sue,
For Physic must succeed,
And what, alas! remains for you?
The WILL—without theDEED.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. VIII.
"RAISING THE WIND."
Raising the Wind.R. Cruikshank.
R. Cruikshank.
A long farewell my breeks of shag;It grieves me to the heart,To doom thee to a Hebrew's bag—But you and I must part.No more thy substance, smooth and warm,Shall shield me from the weather;And I must bear the pelting storm,With bare and breekless nether.The loss 'tis needless to deplore,To my hard fate I bow,I was an Irishman before,I am a Scotsman now.Poverty in this vale of woeSome strange acquaintance brings;And Poverty full well I knowMakes people do strange things.Why doth yon Nymph with warming panParade the streets about?To raise the needful as she can—To put it up the spout!How many noble, good, and wise,Are turn'd in life adrift—Forced their lastSHIRTto sacrifice,To make anotherSHIFT.
A long farewell my breeks of shag;It grieves me to the heart,To doom thee to a Hebrew's bag—But you and I must part.No more thy substance, smooth and warm,Shall shield me from the weather;And I must bear the pelting storm,With bare and breekless nether.The loss 'tis needless to deplore,To my hard fate I bow,I was an Irishman before,I am a Scotsman now.Poverty in this vale of woeSome strange acquaintance brings;And Poverty full well I knowMakes people do strange things.Why doth yon Nymph with warming panParade the streets about?To raise the needful as she can—To put it up the spout!How many noble, good, and wise,Are turn'd in life adrift—Forced their lastSHIRTto sacrifice,To make anotherSHIFT.
A long farewell my breeks of shag;It grieves me to the heart,To doom thee to a Hebrew's bag—But you and I must part.
A long farewell my breeks of shag;
It grieves me to the heart,
To doom thee to a Hebrew's bag—
But you and I must part.
No more thy substance, smooth and warm,Shall shield me from the weather;And I must bear the pelting storm,With bare and breekless nether.
No more thy substance, smooth and warm,
Shall shield me from the weather;
And I must bear the pelting storm,
With bare and breekless nether.
The loss 'tis needless to deplore,To my hard fate I bow,I was an Irishman before,I am a Scotsman now.
The loss 'tis needless to deplore,
To my hard fate I bow,
I was an Irishman before,
I am a Scotsman now.
Poverty in this vale of woeSome strange acquaintance brings;And Poverty full well I knowMakes people do strange things.
Poverty in this vale of woe
Some strange acquaintance brings;
And Poverty full well I know
Makes people do strange things.
Why doth yon Nymph with warming panParade the streets about?To raise the needful as she can—To put it up the spout!
Why doth yon Nymph with warming pan
Parade the streets about?
To raise the needful as she can—
To put it up the spout!
How many noble, good, and wise,Are turn'd in life adrift—Forced their lastSHIRTto sacrifice,To make anotherSHIFT.
How many noble, good, and wise,
Are turn'd in life adrift—
Forced their lastSHIRTto sacrifice,
To make anotherSHIFT.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. IX.
"MEASURE FOR MEASURE."
Measure for Measure."Measures, not men, have always been my mark."Goldsmith.—The Good-Natured Man.
"Measures, not men, have always been my mark."Goldsmith.—The Good-Natured Man.
Goldsmith.—The Good-Natured Man.
"Die! dastard Snip—that mortal thrustShall perforate thy lungs,And lay thee prostrate in the dust,Thou proudest of the Dungs!"No more, among my cross-legg'd band,Thy schemes shall gender strife;And ne'er again thy rebel handAttempt thy master's life!"Where, now, are all thy idle boasts?This blow shall introduceThy Spirit where the Tailor ghostsEat visionary goose!"Down, Traitor! to thy native Hell!Fresh treasons there to plan—With recreant spectre Snips to dwell—Thou fraction of a man!"Ye restless Dungs of spirit rough,From this example know—One active measureis enoughTo lay a traitor low!"
"Die! dastard Snip—that mortal thrustShall perforate thy lungs,And lay thee prostrate in the dust,Thou proudest of the Dungs!"No more, among my cross-legg'd band,Thy schemes shall gender strife;And ne'er again thy rebel handAttempt thy master's life!"Where, now, are all thy idle boasts?This blow shall introduceThy Spirit where the Tailor ghostsEat visionary goose!"Down, Traitor! to thy native Hell!Fresh treasons there to plan—With recreant spectre Snips to dwell—Thou fraction of a man!"Ye restless Dungs of spirit rough,From this example know—One active measureis enoughTo lay a traitor low!"
"Die! dastard Snip—that mortal thrustShall perforate thy lungs,And lay thee prostrate in the dust,Thou proudest of the Dungs!
"Die! dastard Snip—that mortal thrust
Shall perforate thy lungs,
And lay thee prostrate in the dust,
Thou proudest of the Dungs!
"No more, among my cross-legg'd band,Thy schemes shall gender strife;And ne'er again thy rebel handAttempt thy master's life!
"No more, among my cross-legg'd band,
Thy schemes shall gender strife;
And ne'er again thy rebel hand
Attempt thy master's life!
"Where, now, are all thy idle boasts?This blow shall introduceThy Spirit where the Tailor ghostsEat visionary goose!
"Where, now, are all thy idle boasts?
This blow shall introduce
Thy Spirit where the Tailor ghosts
Eat visionary goose!
"Down, Traitor! to thy native Hell!Fresh treasons there to plan—With recreant spectre Snips to dwell—Thou fraction of a man!
"Down, Traitor! to thy native Hell!
Fresh treasons there to plan—
With recreant spectre Snips to dwell—
Thou fraction of a man!
"Ye restless Dungs of spirit rough,From this example know—One active measureis enoughTo lay a traitor low!"
"Ye restless Dungs of spirit rough,
From this example know—
One active measureis enough
To lay a traitor low!"
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. X.
"THE BOTTLE IMP."
The Bottle Imp.
Imp of the Bottle! appear, appear,Arm'd with fresh fluid our souls to cheer;Thy features with mirth and good humour beaming,Thy nectar luscious, and bright and creaming—What is the name of the Bottle Sprite?The Star of the Colonnade—Charley Wright.Long be the precious beverage quaff'd!Open your lips to receive the draught.The magic power of the bright ChampagneShall sooth the spirit and fire the brain;And trouble and grief will vanish quiteFrom the happy realms of the Bottle Sprite.To those who have long been estrang'd from mirth,And weary moments have pass'd on earth;On whom the storm of adversity lowers,While, in secret, they sigh for happier hours,O let not the Bottle Imp whisper in vain;There's a cure for all care in this bright Champagne;As the mist on the mountain melts awayAt the radiant beams of the God of Day,So, when the nectar hath brightened the heart,The shadows of pain and sorrow depart,And all the Blue Devils must wing their flight,When a cork is drawn by the Bottle Sprite.Imp of the Bottle! still gild our hours—So shall our pathway be strew'd with flowers;Harmony uninterrupted shall reign,And the watchword for pleasure be "Wright's Champagne."And be it our duty as well as delight,To honour the draughts of the Bottle Sprite.
Imp of the Bottle! appear, appear,Arm'd with fresh fluid our souls to cheer;Thy features with mirth and good humour beaming,Thy nectar luscious, and bright and creaming—What is the name of the Bottle Sprite?The Star of the Colonnade—Charley Wright.Long be the precious beverage quaff'd!Open your lips to receive the draught.The magic power of the bright ChampagneShall sooth the spirit and fire the brain;And trouble and grief will vanish quiteFrom the happy realms of the Bottle Sprite.To those who have long been estrang'd from mirth,And weary moments have pass'd on earth;On whom the storm of adversity lowers,While, in secret, they sigh for happier hours,O let not the Bottle Imp whisper in vain;There's a cure for all care in this bright Champagne;As the mist on the mountain melts awayAt the radiant beams of the God of Day,So, when the nectar hath brightened the heart,The shadows of pain and sorrow depart,And all the Blue Devils must wing their flight,When a cork is drawn by the Bottle Sprite.Imp of the Bottle! still gild our hours—So shall our pathway be strew'd with flowers;Harmony uninterrupted shall reign,And the watchword for pleasure be "Wright's Champagne."And be it our duty as well as delight,To honour the draughts of the Bottle Sprite.
Imp of the Bottle! appear, appear,
Arm'd with fresh fluid our souls to cheer;
Thy features with mirth and good humour beaming,
Thy nectar luscious, and bright and creaming—
What is the name of the Bottle Sprite?
The Star of the Colonnade—Charley Wright.
Long be the precious beverage quaff'd!
Open your lips to receive the draught.
The magic power of the bright Champagne
Shall sooth the spirit and fire the brain;
And trouble and grief will vanish quite
From the happy realms of the Bottle Sprite.
To those who have long been estrang'd from mirth,
And weary moments have pass'd on earth;
On whom the storm of adversity lowers,
While, in secret, they sigh for happier hours,
O let not the Bottle Imp whisper in vain;
There's a cure for all care in this bright Champagne;
As the mist on the mountain melts away
At the radiant beams of the God of Day,
So, when the nectar hath brightened the heart,
The shadows of pain and sorrow depart,
And all the Blue Devils must wing their flight,
When a cork is drawn by the Bottle Sprite.
Imp of the Bottle! still gild our hours—
So shall our pathway be strew'd with flowers;
Harmony uninterrupted shall reign,
And the watchword for pleasure be "Wright's Champagne."
And be it our duty as well as delight,
To honour the draughts of the Bottle Sprite.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XI.
"THE RIVALS."
The Rivals"Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt;Nothing's so hard but search will find it out."Robert Herrick.
"Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt;Nothing's so hard but search will find it out."Robert Herrick.
"Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt;Nothing's so hard but search will find it out."Robert Herrick.
"Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt;Nothing's so hard but search will find it out."Robert Herrick.
"Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt;
Nothing's so hard but search will find it out."
Robert Herrick.
Fond Youths, ah! how shall I decideAccording to your merit?—Who shall the Seaman'sFLESHderide—Or who, the Parson'sSPIRIT?When the bold Tar proceeds to tellHis tale of amorous pain,'Tis hard that one who pleads so wellShould ever plead in vain.And when his suppliant rival sighs,How can I say forbear!Who can resist his piercing eyes,Or scorn a Parson's prayer?Ah! either lover to refuseMy virgin heart is loth;And where it is so hard to choose,'Tis well to cut you both!
Fond Youths, ah! how shall I decideAccording to your merit?—Who shall the Seaman'sFLESHderide—Or who, the Parson'sSPIRIT?When the bold Tar proceeds to tellHis tale of amorous pain,'Tis hard that one who pleads so wellShould ever plead in vain.And when his suppliant rival sighs,How can I say forbear!Who can resist his piercing eyes,Or scorn a Parson's prayer?Ah! either lover to refuseMy virgin heart is loth;And where it is so hard to choose,'Tis well to cut you both!
Fond Youths, ah! how shall I decideAccording to your merit?—Who shall the Seaman'sFLESHderide—Or who, the Parson'sSPIRIT?
Fond Youths, ah! how shall I decide
According to your merit?—
Who shall the Seaman'sFLESHderide—
Or who, the Parson'sSPIRIT?
When the bold Tar proceeds to tellHis tale of amorous pain,'Tis hard that one who pleads so wellShould ever plead in vain.
When the bold Tar proceeds to tell
His tale of amorous pain,
'Tis hard that one who pleads so well
Should ever plead in vain.
And when his suppliant rival sighs,How can I say forbear!Who can resist his piercing eyes,Or scorn a Parson's prayer?
And when his suppliant rival sighs,
How can I say forbear!
Who can resist his piercing eyes,
Or scorn a Parson's prayer?
Ah! either lover to refuseMy virgin heart is loth;And where it is so hard to choose,'Tis well to cut you both!
Ah! either lover to refuse
My virgin heart is loth;
And where it is so hard to choose,
'Tis well to cut you both!
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XII.
"LOVE LAUGHS AT LOCKSMITHS."
Love Laughs at Locksmiths."Hasty marriage seldom proveth well."Shakespeare."Marriageable foolish wenches are troublesome troops to keep."Old Saw.
"Hasty marriage seldom proveth well."Shakespeare."Marriageable foolish wenches are troublesome troops to keep."Old Saw.
"Hasty marriage seldom proveth well."Shakespeare."Marriageable foolish wenches are troublesome troops to keep."Old Saw.
"Hasty marriage seldom proveth well."Shakespeare."Marriageable foolish wenches are troublesome troops to keep."Old Saw.
"Hasty marriage seldom proveth well."
Shakespeare.
"Marriageable foolish wenches are troublesome troops to keep."
Old Saw.
Come to my arms, my blushing maid,Nor heed the padlock's strength;Our love defies the Blacksmith's trade,And I am yours—AT LENGTH!Anon, the padlock we'll remove,From where it lately hung;And, if a scolding wife you prove,I'll clap it on your tongue!
Come to my arms, my blushing maid,Nor heed the padlock's strength;Our love defies the Blacksmith's trade,And I am yours—AT LENGTH!Anon, the padlock we'll remove,From where it lately hung;And, if a scolding wife you prove,I'll clap it on your tongue!
Come to my arms, my blushing maid,Nor heed the padlock's strength;Our love defies the Blacksmith's trade,And I am yours—AT LENGTH!
Come to my arms, my blushing maid,
Nor heed the padlock's strength;
Our love defies the Blacksmith's trade,
And I am yours—AT LENGTH!
Anon, the padlock we'll remove,From where it lately hung;And, if a scolding wife you prove,I'll clap it on your tongue!
Anon, the padlock we'll remove,
From where it lately hung;
And, if a scolding wife you prove,
I'll clap it on your tongue!
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XIII.
OTHELLO.
"OTHELLO'S OCCUPATION'S GONE."
Othello's Occupation's Gone.R. Cruikshank.
R. Cruikshank.
What, Mungo! laid upon the shelf!You seem in piteous plight,Like your own broom you're stumpt yourself—Poor Massa Lilywhite!You thrive far better in a showerThan in the sunny shine—A plague upon the Comet's power,That makes the days so fine!Yet strive your drooping heart to raise,Your sinking soul to cheer;For muddy streets and dirty daysWill very soon be here.And when those sloppy hours return,Wealth shall be yours anon;Nor poor Othello longer mornHis occupation gone.
What, Mungo! laid upon the shelf!You seem in piteous plight,Like your own broom you're stumpt yourself—Poor Massa Lilywhite!You thrive far better in a showerThan in the sunny shine—A plague upon the Comet's power,That makes the days so fine!Yet strive your drooping heart to raise,Your sinking soul to cheer;For muddy streets and dirty daysWill very soon be here.And when those sloppy hours return,Wealth shall be yours anon;Nor poor Othello longer mornHis occupation gone.
What, Mungo! laid upon the shelf!You seem in piteous plight,Like your own broom you're stumpt yourself—Poor Massa Lilywhite!
What, Mungo! laid upon the shelf!
You seem in piteous plight,
Like your own broom you're stumpt yourself—
Poor Massa Lilywhite!
You thrive far better in a showerThan in the sunny shine—A plague upon the Comet's power,That makes the days so fine!
You thrive far better in a shower
Than in the sunny shine—
A plague upon the Comet's power,
That makes the days so fine!
Yet strive your drooping heart to raise,Your sinking soul to cheer;For muddy streets and dirty daysWill very soon be here.
Yet strive your drooping heart to raise,
Your sinking soul to cheer;
For muddy streets and dirty days
Will very soon be here.
And when those sloppy hours return,Wealth shall be yours anon;Nor poor Othello longer mornHis occupation gone.
And when those sloppy hours return,
Wealth shall be yours anon;
Nor poor Othello longer morn
His occupation gone.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XIV.
"HIGH LIFE BELOW STAIRS."
High Life Below Stairs
"Fair Nymph of the perspiring brow,Let these vain scruples cease,While on thy rosy lips I nowImprint the kiss of peace."O! let the ardent sighs you hear,The vows of love I utter,Steal gently on thy willing ear,As smooth as melted butter."Always spare diet must be wrong—'Tis weary, stale, and flat;And having lived on lean so long,'Tis time I turn to fat.""O vile, unworthy man! forbear—Such conduct who can brook?Thus to desert thy lady fair,To hug a greasy cook!"I cannot to such wrongs submit,But soon will clear the coast—Hence, vile Sultans of the Spit!For I will rule the roast."And never let me see you more,As thus I've caught you tripping—I didn't know my lord beforeHad such a love for dripping."
"Fair Nymph of the perspiring brow,Let these vain scruples cease,While on thy rosy lips I nowImprint the kiss of peace."O! let the ardent sighs you hear,The vows of love I utter,Steal gently on thy willing ear,As smooth as melted butter."Always spare diet must be wrong—'Tis weary, stale, and flat;And having lived on lean so long,'Tis time I turn to fat.""O vile, unworthy man! forbear—Such conduct who can brook?Thus to desert thy lady fair,To hug a greasy cook!"I cannot to such wrongs submit,But soon will clear the coast—Hence, vile Sultans of the Spit!For I will rule the roast."And never let me see you more,As thus I've caught you tripping—I didn't know my lord beforeHad such a love for dripping."
"Fair Nymph of the perspiring brow,Let these vain scruples cease,While on thy rosy lips I nowImprint the kiss of peace.
"Fair Nymph of the perspiring brow,
Let these vain scruples cease,
While on thy rosy lips I now
Imprint the kiss of peace.
"O! let the ardent sighs you hear,The vows of love I utter,Steal gently on thy willing ear,As smooth as melted butter.
"O! let the ardent sighs you hear,
The vows of love I utter,
Steal gently on thy willing ear,
As smooth as melted butter.
"Always spare diet must be wrong—'Tis weary, stale, and flat;And having lived on lean so long,'Tis time I turn to fat."
"Always spare diet must be wrong—
'Tis weary, stale, and flat;
And having lived on lean so long,
'Tis time I turn to fat."
"O vile, unworthy man! forbear—Such conduct who can brook?Thus to desert thy lady fair,To hug a greasy cook!
"O vile, unworthy man! forbear—
Such conduct who can brook?
Thus to desert thy lady fair,
To hug a greasy cook!
"I cannot to such wrongs submit,But soon will clear the coast—Hence, vile Sultans of the Spit!For I will rule the roast.
"I cannot to such wrongs submit,
But soon will clear the coast—
Hence, vile Sultans of the Spit!
For I will rule the roast.
"And never let me see you more,As thus I've caught you tripping—I didn't know my lord beforeHad such a love for dripping."
"And never let me see you more,
As thus I've caught you tripping—
I didn't know my lord before
Had such a love for dripping."
The Drunkard's Progress
THEDRUNKARD'SPROGRESS,INTWELVE STEPS,FROMDESIGNSBYROBERT SEYMOUR.Circa 1829.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XV.
THE DRUNKARD'S PROGRESS.
STEP THE FIRST
Step the FirstRobert Seymour.
Robert Seymour.
The March of Intellect impliesThat men begin to think—I leave their wisdom to the wise,And sing the March of Drink!Now let us make it our employThe Drunkard's course to scan;And mark the habits in the boyWhich ripen in the man:Observe! this hopeful Sprig of Snip'sBy stealth has seized the gin—Applies the bottle to his lips,And sucks the poison in.Drink deep, thou liquor-loving brat!Nor spare the cordial drop,While the old folks enjoy their chat,And gossip in the shop.They taught thee first to love the juice,And prove the maxim true,That sauce for gander and for gooseIs sauce for gosling too!
The March of Intellect impliesThat men begin to think—I leave their wisdom to the wise,And sing the March of Drink!Now let us make it our employThe Drunkard's course to scan;And mark the habits in the boyWhich ripen in the man:Observe! this hopeful Sprig of Snip'sBy stealth has seized the gin—Applies the bottle to his lips,And sucks the poison in.Drink deep, thou liquor-loving brat!Nor spare the cordial drop,While the old folks enjoy their chat,And gossip in the shop.They taught thee first to love the juice,And prove the maxim true,That sauce for gander and for gooseIs sauce for gosling too!
The March of Intellect impliesThat men begin to think—I leave their wisdom to the wise,And sing the March of Drink!
The March of Intellect implies
That men begin to think—
I leave their wisdom to the wise,
And sing the March of Drink!
Now let us make it our employThe Drunkard's course to scan;And mark the habits in the boyWhich ripen in the man:
Now let us make it our employ
The Drunkard's course to scan;
And mark the habits in the boy
Which ripen in the man:
Observe! this hopeful Sprig of Snip'sBy stealth has seized the gin—Applies the bottle to his lips,And sucks the poison in.
Observe! this hopeful Sprig of Snip's
By stealth has seized the gin—
Applies the bottle to his lips,
And sucks the poison in.
Drink deep, thou liquor-loving brat!Nor spare the cordial drop,While the old folks enjoy their chat,And gossip in the shop.
Drink deep, thou liquor-loving brat!
Nor spare the cordial drop,
While the old folks enjoy their chat,
And gossip in the shop.
They taught thee first to love the juice,And prove the maxim true,That sauce for gander and for gooseIs sauce for gosling too!
They taught thee first to love the juice,
And prove the maxim true,
That sauce for gander and for goose
Is sauce for gosling too!
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XVI.
STEP THE SECOND.
Step the Second.Robert Seymour.
Robert Seymour.
"My Dear, the morning's cold and raw,And as I cannot stop,Make haste, the daffy bottle draw,And let us have a drop."Our little boy all fume and fretI can't abide to see—You and I always loved a wet,And wherefore shouldn't he?"Cut out for drinking he appears,The feeling gives me pleasure;Then never mind his tender years,But give him ample measure."And, Mrs. Snip, wet both his eyes;So shall the lad inheritHis mother's thirsty properties,And all his father's spirit!For ways in which a child should goTo train him it is fit;And as he grows in years, we knowHe won't depart from it.
"My Dear, the morning's cold and raw,And as I cannot stop,Make haste, the daffy bottle draw,And let us have a drop."Our little boy all fume and fretI can't abide to see—You and I always loved a wet,And wherefore shouldn't he?"Cut out for drinking he appears,The feeling gives me pleasure;Then never mind his tender years,But give him ample measure."And, Mrs. Snip, wet both his eyes;So shall the lad inheritHis mother's thirsty properties,And all his father's spirit!For ways in which a child should goTo train him it is fit;And as he grows in years, we knowHe won't depart from it.
"My Dear, the morning's cold and raw,And as I cannot stop,Make haste, the daffy bottle draw,And let us have a drop.
"My Dear, the morning's cold and raw,
And as I cannot stop,
Make haste, the daffy bottle draw,
And let us have a drop.
"Our little boy all fume and fretI can't abide to see—You and I always loved a wet,And wherefore shouldn't he?
"Our little boy all fume and fret
I can't abide to see—
You and I always loved a wet,
And wherefore shouldn't he?
"Cut out for drinking he appears,The feeling gives me pleasure;Then never mind his tender years,But give him ample measure."
"Cut out for drinking he appears,
The feeling gives me pleasure;
Then never mind his tender years,
But give him ample measure."
And, Mrs. Snip, wet both his eyes;So shall the lad inheritHis mother's thirsty properties,And all his father's spirit!
And, Mrs. Snip, wet both his eyes;
So shall the lad inherit
His mother's thirsty properties,
And all his father's spirit!
For ways in which a child should goTo train him it is fit;And as he grows in years, we knowHe won't depart from it.
For ways in which a child should go
To train him it is fit;
And as he grows in years, we know
He won't depart from it.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XVII.
STEP THE THIRD.
Step the Third.Robert Seymour.
Robert Seymour.
White Conduit! in thy alcoves green,While softly sighs the summer gale,How many Nymphs and Swains are seenTo sip their tea or swig their ale!And weekly here at Sabbath's closeThe Hebrew gay ones still resort—The taudry Belles and Dingy BeauxTheir party-colour'd togs to sport.Why should not Snip, our man of measure,With Spouse and Darling wander here?To pass a Sunday eve in pleasure,To blow a cloud and taste the beer!And let young Hopeful have his fill—His rising spirit why control?"I loves," cries Snip, "to see him swill—It makes the boy so very droll:"Then seize the jug, and do not spare!But be awake, thou man of stitches,Or, by the powers, your hopeful HeirWill spill the liqour on your breeches."The rapid course of time we know;Why waste it then in dry reflection?Another week, no doubt, will showSome farther progress to perfection.
White Conduit! in thy alcoves green,While softly sighs the summer gale,How many Nymphs and Swains are seenTo sip their tea or swig their ale!And weekly here at Sabbath's closeThe Hebrew gay ones still resort—The taudry Belles and Dingy BeauxTheir party-colour'd togs to sport.Why should not Snip, our man of measure,With Spouse and Darling wander here?To pass a Sunday eve in pleasure,To blow a cloud and taste the beer!And let young Hopeful have his fill—His rising spirit why control?"I loves," cries Snip, "to see him swill—It makes the boy so very droll:"Then seize the jug, and do not spare!But be awake, thou man of stitches,Or, by the powers, your hopeful HeirWill spill the liqour on your breeches."The rapid course of time we know;Why waste it then in dry reflection?Another week, no doubt, will showSome farther progress to perfection.
White Conduit! in thy alcoves green,While softly sighs the summer gale,How many Nymphs and Swains are seenTo sip their tea or swig their ale!
White Conduit! in thy alcoves green,
While softly sighs the summer gale,
How many Nymphs and Swains are seen
To sip their tea or swig their ale!
And weekly here at Sabbath's closeThe Hebrew gay ones still resort—The taudry Belles and Dingy BeauxTheir party-colour'd togs to sport.
And weekly here at Sabbath's close
The Hebrew gay ones still resort—
The taudry Belles and Dingy Beaux
Their party-colour'd togs to sport.
Why should not Snip, our man of measure,With Spouse and Darling wander here?To pass a Sunday eve in pleasure,To blow a cloud and taste the beer!
Why should not Snip, our man of measure,
With Spouse and Darling wander here?
To pass a Sunday eve in pleasure,
To blow a cloud and taste the beer!
And let young Hopeful have his fill—His rising spirit why control?"I loves," cries Snip, "to see him swill—It makes the boy so very droll:
And let young Hopeful have his fill—
His rising spirit why control?
"I loves," cries Snip, "to see him swill—
It makes the boy so very droll:
"Then seize the jug, and do not spare!But be awake, thou man of stitches,Or, by the powers, your hopeful HeirWill spill the liqour on your breeches."
"Then seize the jug, and do not spare!
But be awake, thou man of stitches,
Or, by the powers, your hopeful Heir
Will spill the liqour on your breeches."
The rapid course of time we know;Why waste it then in dry reflection?Another week, no doubt, will showSome farther progress to perfection.
The rapid course of time we know;
Why waste it then in dry reflection?
Another week, no doubt, will show
Some farther progress to perfection.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XVIII.
STEP THE FOURTH.
Step the FourthRobert Seymour.
Robert Seymour.
Go on and prosper, knowing lads!In life there's nothing like variety,To see thee makes my spirit glad,In such respectable society.Let every care disperse in smoke,Each anxious thought in beer be drown'd,While you enjoy your game, and smoke—Top-sawyer of the skittle-ground."Boy, bring the heavy, for I'm dry,"And scrape a little ginger in it;"And now I'm ready for a shy"At knock 'em down, and bet I'll win it."How much more pleasant to be here,"With friends to drink a social drop"Of Wyatt's ale, or Barclay's beer,"Than plodding in a humbug shop!"'Twas Dad that taught me first to swill,"(Come pass the pewter pot, and end it),"And, whilst there's money in the till,"The ould un knows that I will spend it."Careers so brilliant why impede?Vain every effort to instruct you!But we shall learn as we proceed,To what these courses must conduct you.
Go on and prosper, knowing lads!In life there's nothing like variety,To see thee makes my spirit glad,In such respectable society.Let every care disperse in smoke,Each anxious thought in beer be drown'd,While you enjoy your game, and smoke—Top-sawyer of the skittle-ground."Boy, bring the heavy, for I'm dry,"And scrape a little ginger in it;"And now I'm ready for a shy"At knock 'em down, and bet I'll win it."How much more pleasant to be here,"With friends to drink a social drop"Of Wyatt's ale, or Barclay's beer,"Than plodding in a humbug shop!"'Twas Dad that taught me first to swill,"(Come pass the pewter pot, and end it),"And, whilst there's money in the till,"The ould un knows that I will spend it."Careers so brilliant why impede?Vain every effort to instruct you!But we shall learn as we proceed,To what these courses must conduct you.
Go on and prosper, knowing lads!In life there's nothing like variety,To see thee makes my spirit glad,In such respectable society.
Go on and prosper, knowing lads!
In life there's nothing like variety,
To see thee makes my spirit glad,
In such respectable society.
Let every care disperse in smoke,Each anxious thought in beer be drown'd,While you enjoy your game, and smoke—Top-sawyer of the skittle-ground.
Let every care disperse in smoke,
Each anxious thought in beer be drown'd,
While you enjoy your game, and smoke—
Top-sawyer of the skittle-ground.
"Boy, bring the heavy, for I'm dry,"And scrape a little ginger in it;"And now I'm ready for a shy"At knock 'em down, and bet I'll win it.
"Boy, bring the heavy, for I'm dry,
"And scrape a little ginger in it;
"And now I'm ready for a shy
"At knock 'em down, and bet I'll win it.
"How much more pleasant to be here,"With friends to drink a social drop"Of Wyatt's ale, or Barclay's beer,"Than plodding in a humbug shop!
"How much more pleasant to be here,
"With friends to drink a social drop
"Of Wyatt's ale, or Barclay's beer,
"Than plodding in a humbug shop!
"'Twas Dad that taught me first to swill,"(Come pass the pewter pot, and end it),"And, whilst there's money in the till,"The ould un knows that I will spend it."
"'Twas Dad that taught me first to swill,
"(Come pass the pewter pot, and end it),
"And, whilst there's money in the till,
"The ould un knows that I will spend it."
Careers so brilliant why impede?Vain every effort to instruct you!But we shall learn as we proceed,To what these courses must conduct you.
Careers so brilliant why impede?
Vain every effort to instruct you!
But we shall learn as we proceed,
To what these courses must conduct you.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XIX.
STEP THE FIFTH.
Step the Fifth
"Nymph of the Bar, accept my vows,And by that glass of cordial Deady,In me you'll find a faithful spouseFor love and liqour always ready."Let those two worthies have a dram,For, though I'm getting rather mellow,You'll always find me, as I am,A d—d good natured jolly fellow."Come, keep the chalks all right, old dame,I've got another glass before me—If I like max, am I to blame?Why daddy did the same before me.""Lauk, sir, you take me by surprise—But some men have a way so winning—You guess my wishes by my eyes—I'm nearly tir'd of liquor spinning."I cannot bear to answer—No;And as it's cold and sloppy weather,Do let us have, before you go,A drop of Cherry-bounce together."Short be your courtship, worthy pair,With all the happiness you merit;When both suchCORDIALfeelings share,No doubt it will proceed withSPIRIT.
"Nymph of the Bar, accept my vows,And by that glass of cordial Deady,In me you'll find a faithful spouseFor love and liqour always ready."Let those two worthies have a dram,For, though I'm getting rather mellow,You'll always find me, as I am,A d—d good natured jolly fellow."Come, keep the chalks all right, old dame,I've got another glass before me—If I like max, am I to blame?Why daddy did the same before me.""Lauk, sir, you take me by surprise—But some men have a way so winning—You guess my wishes by my eyes—I'm nearly tir'd of liquor spinning."I cannot bear to answer—No;And as it's cold and sloppy weather,Do let us have, before you go,A drop of Cherry-bounce together."Short be your courtship, worthy pair,With all the happiness you merit;When both suchCORDIALfeelings share,No doubt it will proceed withSPIRIT.
"Nymph of the Bar, accept my vows,And by that glass of cordial Deady,In me you'll find a faithful spouseFor love and liqour always ready.
"Nymph of the Bar, accept my vows,
And by that glass of cordial Deady,
In me you'll find a faithful spouse
For love and liqour always ready.
"Let those two worthies have a dram,For, though I'm getting rather mellow,You'll always find me, as I am,A d—d good natured jolly fellow.
"Let those two worthies have a dram,
For, though I'm getting rather mellow,
You'll always find me, as I am,
A d—d good natured jolly fellow.
"Come, keep the chalks all right, old dame,I've got another glass before me—If I like max, am I to blame?Why daddy did the same before me."
"Come, keep the chalks all right, old dame,
I've got another glass before me—
If I like max, am I to blame?
Why daddy did the same before me."
"Lauk, sir, you take me by surprise—But some men have a way so winning—You guess my wishes by my eyes—I'm nearly tir'd of liquor spinning.
"Lauk, sir, you take me by surprise—
But some men have a way so winning—
You guess my wishes by my eyes—
I'm nearly tir'd of liquor spinning.
"I cannot bear to answer—No;And as it's cold and sloppy weather,Do let us have, before you go,A drop of Cherry-bounce together."
"I cannot bear to answer—No;
And as it's cold and sloppy weather,
Do let us have, before you go,
A drop of Cherry-bounce together."
Short be your courtship, worthy pair,With all the happiness you merit;When both suchCORDIALfeelings share,No doubt it will proceed withSPIRIT.
Short be your courtship, worthy pair,
With all the happiness you merit;
When both suchCORDIALfeelings share,
No doubt it will proceed withSPIRIT.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XX.
STEP THE SIXTH.