Punch (78.1880)

*

July 3, 1880.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ffl

SCENE—The Thames out Henley way. Mr. Punch discovered lazily lolling in a Skiff moored among the reeds. Tory dutifully
imitating his Master in uncompromising dolce far niente. To them enter hastily, and fresh from London, the First Lord of tlie
Treasury.

Premier. Ah ! found you at last, my dear Punch ! Whoof ! I wired you. Why didn’t you answer ?

Punch. Telegrams never come here, where I loll, like the mighty God Pan, Sir,

“ Down in the reeds by the river.”

Premier. Advice, many-counselled Ulysses--

Punch [yawning). Rather not turn on that tap in a Lotos-land lovely as this is.

Still if it must be, it must. Only first try another potation. [Passes tankard.

Premier. Thanks ! I must catch the next train up to London ; and so-

Punch. Botheration!

No House to-night! Take it easy !

Premier. You’re lazy,—yet cute as a Q.C.

I’ve run down to seek your advice ; I am sure you will give it in nuce.

Punch. Palaver in June—on the river ! By Phoebus, the thing lacks congruity !

Premier. Sir, in evading the point, you ’re displaying a Turk’s ingenuity.

Punch. Terrible wriggler, the Ottoman ; many more shifts than old Merlin.

Wonder if joint-stock coercion will bring him to book now at Berlin ?

Premier. That is just one of the points that I wanted-

Punch. By Jove, look at Toby ! A

Tidy cool hand is that tyke ; he will never invite hydrophobia.

Twig him there stretched on his back ! ’Tis a capital antiphlogistic.

Premier. Yes, but the Porte--

Punch. propos, try the Claret Cup. Dreamily mystic

That haze on the-dickens, man ! don't jump like that! This is not a Dutch lugger.

Seen Anne-Mie, by the way ?

Premier. No.

Punch. I ’ll just shift this cushion. That’s snugger !

Beebsman’s not bad, I assure you.

Premier. Well—passing such topics extraneous—

What do you think of our Note ?

Punch. The identic and—hum—simultaneous ?