Quips and Quiddities Part 51

_ON DRUNKEN COURAGE._

Who only in his cups will fight is like A clock that must be oil'd well ere it strikes.

THOMAS BANCROFT (_circa_ 1600).

Talking to ---- is like playing long whist.

LADY ASHBURTON, _apud_ LORD HOUGHTON.

_CERBERUS._

My dog, who picks up everything one teaches, Has got "three heads," like Mr. Gladstone's speeches, But, as might naturally be expected, His are considerably more connected.

H. J. BYRON, in _English Epigrams_.

Blessed be the word "nice"!--it is the copper coin of commendation. Without it, we should have to praise more handsomely.

CHARLES BUXTON, _Notes of Thought_.

_ON NEWGATE WINDOWS._

All Newgate windows bay windows they be; All lookers out there stand at bay we see.

JOHN HEYWOOD (1506-1565).

It was a grand scene, Mr. Artemus Ward standing on the platform; many of the audience sleeping tranquilly in their seats; others leaving the room and not returning; others crying like a child at some of the jokes,--all, all formed a most impressive scene, and showed the powers of this remarkable orator. And when he announced that he should never lecture in that town again, the applause was absolutely deafening.

C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.

_THE REASONS FOR DRINKING._

If all be true that I do think, There are five reasons we should drink: Good wine; a friend; or being dry; Or lest we should be by-and-by; Or any other reason why.

HENRY ALDRICH.

[Barham] having expressed himself in terms of abhorrence of a piece of baseness and treachery which came under his notice, he was addressed by the delinquent with--"Well, sir, perhaps some day you may come to change your opinion of me!" "Perhaps I may, sir," was the reply; "for if I should find any one who holds a more contemptible opinion of you than I do myself, I should lay down my own and take up his."

R. H. D. BARHAM, _Life of Barham_.

_FALSE LOVE'S QUIRK._

"Oh, sweet one!" sighs the lover, "Could I but this discover,-- Thy breast so softly moving, Will it ever cease from loving?"

Says she, her eyes upturning, "The love within me burning No time can ever smother"-- For some one or another!

LORD SOUTHESK, _Greenwood's Farewell_.

Benjamin Constant, on some one asking (with reference to his book on religion) how he managed to reconcile the statements of his latter volumes with those of his first, published so long ago, answered, "Il n'y a rien qui s'arrange aussi facilement que les faits."

THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.

I'm told that virgins augur some Misfortune if their shoe-strings come To grief on Friday: And so did Di, and then her pride Decreed that shoe-strings so untied Are "so untidy!"

FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.

On one occasion the late Lady Holland took [Luttrell] a drive in her carriage over a rough road; and as she was very nervous, she insisted on being driven at a foot's pace. This ordeal lasted some hours, and when he was at last released, poor Luttrell, perfectly exasperated, rushed into the nearest club-house, and exclaimed, clenching his teeth and hands, "The very funerals pa.s.sed us!"

GRONOW, _Recollections_.

_TO A YOUNG LADY._

An original something dear maid, you would win me To write, but how shall I begin?

For I fear I have nothing original in me-- Excepting Original Sin.

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

La societe est un etat de guerre, regle par les lois.

_L'Art de Parvenir._

Perchance it was her eyes of blue, Her cheeks that might the rose have shamed, Her figure in proportion true To all the rules by artists framed; Perhaps it was her mental worth That made her lover love her so, Perhaps her name, or wealth, or birth,-- I cannot tell--I do not know.

He may have had a rival, who Did fiercely gage him to a duel, And being the luckiest of the two Defeated him with triumph cruel; Then _she_ may have proved false, and turned To welcome to her arms his foe, Left _him_ despairing, conquer'd, spurned,-- I cannot tell--I do not know.

_Songs of Singularity._

It is of no use to tell a neighbour that his hens eat your tomatoes: it makes no impression on him, for the tomatoes are not his. The best way is to casually remark to him that he has a fine lot of chickens, pretty well grown, and that you like spring chickens broiled. He will take them away at once.

C. D. WARNER, _My Summer in a Garden_.

One persuaded his friend to marry a little woman, because of evils the least was to be chosen.