Punch (60.1871)

128

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[April 1, 1871.

HAVE THEY

FEOM DEAN SWIFT'S POLITE CONVERSATION.
(1738.)

Lady Smart's Antechamber.

Lady Smart (to Lord Sparkish:, who enters). My Lord, your
Lordship's most humble Servant.

Lord Sparkish. Madam, you spoke too late. I was your Lady-
ship's before ?

Lady Smart. 0 ! Colonel Atwit, are you here ?

Colonel. As sure as you 're there, Madam.

Lady Smart. And Mr. Neverout ! Well, I '11 get a knife and
nick it down that Mr. Neverout came to our house.

Neverout (to Miss Notable, ivho enters). Miss, your Slave. I hope
your early Rising will do you no harm.

Miss. I always rise at Eleven, whether it be Day or not.

Lady Smart. How do you like this Tea, Colonel.

Colonel. Well enough, Madam, but I methinks it is a little
more-ish.

Lady Smart. 0! Colonel, I understand you. Betty, bring the
Canister. I don't love to make two Wants of one, want when I have
it and want when I have it not, He, he, he, he. [Laughs.

Colonel (to Miss). Miss, when will you be married?

Miss. One of these Odd-come-shortly's, Colonel.

Colonel. Odd so! I have cut my Thumb with this blessed Knife.

Lady Answerall. Ay, that was your Mother's fault, because she
only warned you not to cut your fingers.

Lord Sparkish. Come, Miss, never sigh, but send for him.

Lady Smart and Lady Ansiverall (speaking together). If he be
hanged he '11 come hopping, and if he be drowned he '11 come
dropping.

Miss. Well, I swear, you '11 make me die with laughing.

Neverout. I '11 make you a fine Present one of these days, Miss.
0, 'tis the prettiest thing. I assure you there came but two of them
over in Three Ships. Pray, Miss, what's o'clock ?

Miss. Why, you must know, 'tis a thing like a Bell, and you are a
Fool that can't tell.

Lady Smart. My Lord, my Lady Answerall and 1 were walk-
ing in the Park last night till near Eleven. 'Twas a very fine night.

Neverout. Egad, so was I, and I '11 tell you a Comical Accident.
Egad, I lost my Understanding.

Miss. I'm glad you had any to lose.

Neverout. Egad, I kicked my Foot agaiDst a Stone, and tore off
the Heel of my Shoe, and was forced to limp to a Cobler in the Pall
Mall. He, he, he, he !

Lady Smart. My Lord, has Captain Brag the honour to be
related to your Lordship ?

Lord Sparkish. Very nearly, Madam; he's my Cousin-German
quite removed.

Lady Answerall. Pray is he not rich ?

Colonel. Well, however, they say he has a great Estate, but only
the right Owner keeps him out of it.

Lady Answerall. What! I see 'tis Raining again.

Lord Sparkish. Why, then, Madam, we must do as they do in
Spain.

Miss. Pray, my Lord, how is that ?

Lord Sparkish. Why, Madam, we must let it rain.

Neverout. Miss, indeed you are very handsome.

Miss. Poh! I know that already. Tell me news.

Neverout. Indeed, Miss, it grieves me to pity you.

Miss. What ? You think you said a fine Thing, then : well, if 1
had a Dog with no more Wit, I'd hang him.

Lord Sparkish. Well, so much for that, and Butter for Fish. Let
us call another Cause, Miss. What do you think of my friend Tom,
here-?

Miss. My Lord, I think he's not the wisest Man in the World,
and truly he's sometimes very rude.

Liord Sparkish. That may be true, but yet he that hangs Tom for
a Fool may find a Knave in the Halter.

Miss. Well, however, I wish he were hanged, if it were only
to try.

Lady Smart. I '11 tell you one thing, and that's not two. I shall
get a Fit of the Head Ach to-day.

Neverout. 0, Miss, I have heard a sad Story of you.

Miss. I defy you, Mr. Neverout. Nobodv can say Black's my
Eye. 'J.

Neverout. I believe you wish they could.

Lord Sparkish (looking at his ivatch). 'Tis past Twelve o'clock.
Lady Smart. Well, what's that among all us ?
3£iss. Well, Mr. Neverout,—here's the Back of my Hand to you.
Neverout. Miss, I find you will have the last Word. Ladies, I am
more your's than my own. [The party breaks up. I

IMPROVED ?

FROM DEAN PUNCH'S POLITE CONVERSATION.
(1871.)

Lady Smart's Drawing-rooms.

Lady Smart (to Lord Spareish, who enters). Ah, Henrv. We
saw you in the Park, but you wouldn't see us (ivith meaning).

Lord Sparkish. 'Sure you I didn't.

Lady Smart. Quite right not to see us, Henry.

Lord Sparkish. Can't guess what you mean, I'm sure. Awful'
crowd. Poor little Dolly Bean had his pocket picked.

Lady Smart. Was the pickpocket in a Victoria ?

Lord Sparkish. 0, you're so awful clever, Lady Smart. Fellows
say that you write Lord Smart's speeches for him ?

Lady Smart. I would, if I thought he couLd read.

Lord Sparkish. That's good. Must try and remember that.
Miss Neverout, there's the pigeon-shooting business to-morrow.

Miss. 0, I'm coming. I have been talking to Mamma about it
for the last ten days, and I shall manage it at last.

Colonel. Don't bet against me, please, or you '11 make me nervsus.

Lady Answerall. Who cleverly fixed it for the Private View day ?

Colonel. Private View—which—where ?

Lady Answerall. Why, the Academy.

Lady Smart. 0, we can easily manage both. One doesn't want
more than an hour at the pictures.

Miss. I do, a great deal more, but I would rather see the pigeons.

Colonel. Yes, I forgot you paint, or something. Or, perhaps, as
Artemus Ward says, you sculp ? Here's Tom Neverout.

Neverout (who enters). Here he is. " And yet I am not happy."

[This was a bit of Stage wit of the period.

Colonel. You don't look happy, old man. What's the trouble ?

Neverout. 0, not much. Yes, I '11 have some tea. You were not
at Patti last night, Lady Smart.

Lady Smart. Which I weren't. (All laugh.)

Neverout. Sorry for you. You missed a treat.

Lady Smart. I know I did. She is awfully good in Amina.
But Lord Smart insisted on my going down to trie House, and some-
times one has to be obedient.

Neverout. I suppose so. But I didn't mean Patti, but your hand-
some and meritorious neighbour, four boxes off.

Lord Sparkish. Yes, now you mention it, I heard of that at the
One o'Clock, but it went right out of my head. Tell us.

Neverout. Well, you know, I don't say it isn't awfully hard on
poor old Bertie, who is no end of a good fellah, and all that. But-
then he's old enough to know. Anyhow, he had been dining, and
we '11 suppose the wine was bad, and bis grievances came strong
upon him. However, it's to be kept out of the papers, if they can.

Miss (laughing). The most lucid narrative I ever heard. I wish
you 'd write novels.

Lord Sparkish. Row '11 be final, suppose ?

Neverout. Must, this time, I should say. Mind was much too
freely spoken on both sides.
Colonel. And en the third ?

Neverout. Well, you see, the third hadn't much chance of being-
oratorical, having, at an early stage of the debate, been spun right
out of the box. It's a fact. Little Bobby Lardner saw the exit.
I'm awfully sorry, you know, and I hate talking about it.

Miss. Very much. We are all sure of that.

Neverout. Now don't chaff a fellah. We don't say sharp things
now-a-days, you know. All very well in the time of'QuEEN Anne.

Miss. When was that ? I will bet you half-a-dozen pair of
gloves you can't tell the date within twenty years.

Neverout* Thank you. I haven't got to get my living by a com-
petitive examination. Ask that Colonel; they 're going to educate
the soldiery, don't you know.

Colonel (coldly). That's chaff, if you like, and not in the best taste
neither. (Jiecovcrs his good temper.) No, I don't say that, but the
idea of education is revolting to my finer feelings. (Laughs.)

Miss. All very well, but I am covetous of gloves. I want to
know what made Mr. Neverout speak of Queen Anne ?

Neverout. Well, I saw a book on a fellah's table, and it was called
Polite Conversation, as talked by our great grandmothers, and I
give you my word they all snapped at one another like fish-fags.
And weren't they vulgar, just ?

Lady Sparkish. Tastes alter. But tell, me, were they stupid ?

Neverout. Why, no, not that. They all tried to talk like a comedy,
don't you know; wit, and all that. Some of the things made me
roar, but they wouldn't do now, you see. By the way, we 're to
have Schneider asain and the Grande Duchesse.

All. 0, that's delightful!

[Future ages must find out the-point of this '' suckasm" for them-
selves, as Punch is a family■journal.'] [The party breaks up.