Punch, 第 46～47 巻Mark Lemon, Henry Mayhew, Tom Taylor, Shirley Brooks, Francis Cowley Burnand, Owen Seaman Punch Publications Limited, 1864 |
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advertisement answer appear beer believe better Bill BISHOP British called Church City of London Company course Crinoline Croquêt dear Denmark dinner dress England English eyes fact fancy feel Fleet Street Frederick Mullett Evans French garotte gentleman German give GLADSTONE Government hand head hear heard honour hope House Irish keep KING Lombard Street look LORD DERBY LORD PALMERSTON matter means ment mind MISS morning never night Office paper Parish of St Parliament party perhaps person play poor Precinct of Whitefriars present PRINCE prisoner Punch question Railway remark RICHARD COBDEN Schleswig-Holstein SHAKSPEARE SIMON STOCK sing SIR GEORGE GREY spirits Street suppose sure talk tell theatre there's thing thought told town Upper Woburn Place week William Bradbury wish wonder word
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205 ページ - June, pretend to exercise or use any kind of witchcraft, sorcery, enchantment or conjuration, or undertake to tell fortunes, or pretend from his or her skill or knowledge in any occult or crafty science to discover where or in what manner any goods or chattels, supposed to have been stolen or lost, may be found...
225 ページ - ... to be imprisoned for a term not exceeding six months, with or without hard labour.
17 ページ - He was a cynic ! By his life all wrought Of generous acts, mild words, and gentle ways , His heart wide open to all kindly thought, His hand so quick to give, his tongue to praise ! • He was a cynic ! You might read it writ In that broad brow, crowned with its silver hair; In those blue eyes, with childlike candour lit, In that sweet smile his lips were wont to wear...
17 ページ - And sharpened wit on roguery's downward way ; And told us what he saw ; and if he smiled His smile had more of sadness than of mirth — But more of love than either. Undefiled, Gentle, alike by accident of birth...
17 ページ - ... thought, His hand so quick to give, his tongue to praise ! He was a cynic ! You might read it writ In that broad brow, crowned with its silver hair ; In those blue eyes, with childlike candour lit, In that sweet smile his lips were wont to wear ! He was a cynic ! By the love that clung About him from his children, friends, and kin ; By the sharp pain light pen and gossip tongue Wrought in him, chafing the soft heart within ! The spirit and nature of the man have been caught here with absolute...
1 ページ - Mm who has been suddenly called away in the fulness of his power and the maturity of his fame, some who have for many years enjoyed the advantage of his assistance and the delight of his society would simply record that they have lost a dear Friend. At an early period in the history of this Periodical he became a Contributor to its pages, and he long continued to enrich them, and though of late he had ceased to give other aid than suggestion and advice, he was a constant member of our council, and...
17 ページ - Those uninvited crowds, this hush that lies, Unbroken, till the solemn words of prayer From many hundred reverent voices rise Into the sunny stillness of the air. These tears, in eyes but little used to tears...
1 ページ - Let the brilliancy of his trained intellect, the terrible strength of his satire, the subtlety of his wit, the richness of his humour, and the catholic range of his calm wisdom, be themes for others, the mourning friends who inscribe these lines to his memory think of the affectionate nature, the cheerful companionship, the large heart and open hand, the simple courteousness, and the endearing frankness of a brave, true, honest gentleman, whom no pen but his own could depict as those who knew him...
195 ページ - ... power, but with the shade of physical infirmity darkening upon him, took his accustomed place among friends who have this day held his pall. Some of them had been fellow-workers with him for a quarter of a century, others for fewer years ; but to know him well was to love him dearly, and all in whose name these lines are written mourn as for a brother. His monument is in the volumes of which this is one sad leaf, and in a hundred works which, at this hour, few will not remember more easily than...
101 ページ - The way was long, the wind was cold, The minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses gray, Seemed to have known a better day; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy. The last of all the bards was he Who sung of Border chivalry; For, well-aday! their date was fled; His tuneful brethren all were dead; And he, neglected and oppressed, Wished to be with them, and at rest.