DOI issue:
October 4, 1884
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17757#0169
162 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. c October 4, 1884.
DISTINGUISHED AMATEURS.-THE ACTOR.
Billy Wapshot. “ I sat, look here, toe know ! Thkt’ve cast me for the part of Sir Guy Farliswoodde, an awful Ass
THAT EVERYONE KEEPS LAUGHING AT ! HOW THE DICKENS AM I TO Ad SUCH A BEASTLY PART AS THAT?—AND HOW AM I TO DRESS
FOR IT, I SHOULD LIKE TO KNOW ? ”
Brown (Stage Manager). “My dear Fellow, dress just as you are.'—and as for Acting, be as natural as you possibly
can! It will be an Immense Success!”
COPYRIGHT AND COMMON SENSE.
The Novelist and Dramatist of Called Bacl
are fortunate in getting another Advertise-
ment for their work in Mr. Justice ChittyV
Court. The decision was just. The Judge
wouldn’t say anything as to the “ merits of
the case.” Naturally. It is open to any Dra-
matist to dramatise (that being his vocation,
and “may he not labour in his vocation.
Hal ? ”) any story. They’ve “ all done it,”
and will do it to the end of time. But it is
not permissible for any Dramatist or Manager
so to trade on another Dramatist’s and another
Manager’s previous success as to mislead the
unsuspecting Public into supposing that “it
is the same concern.” In the battle of literary
life it is the Public that crowns the winner.
At school one theme is given for fifty boys
to work at in prose or verse, and only one
obtains the prize. There might be a hundred
dramatic versions of any novel presented to \
the Public,—why not F— and let the best ver-
sion win.
On Count Herbert von Bismarck, son of
Prince Yon Bismarck, the Emperor William
has conferred the Red Eagle, Third. Class.
The fledgling is now in high feather.
Doesn’t Master Herbert von Gladstone
wish he could have something conferred
on him ?—say the Order of the Gooseberry
J ampot.
RULING THE WAVES.
(.Freely Adapted from Campbell.)
Ye Mariners of England !
Who ’d guard our native seas,
What think ye, lads, every few years
Of this confounded breeze ?
They tell us we must launch more ships
Ere we may match the foe,
And weep
O’er the deep,
Whilst the Pressmen’s trumpets blow,
While the squabble rages loud and long,
And the Pressmen’s trumpets blow.
The spirits of your fathers
Would look extremely grave
At doubts thus thrown upon the fact
That Britain rules the wave.
Officials on each other fall;
One “ Yes ! ” says, t’other “ No ! ”
And sweep
O’er the deep,
Of big figures in a row,
Tabled Statistics stiff and long,
And figures in a row.
Britannia needs a Navy
Her world-wide watch to keep,
To ward her isle-encircling waves,
And to patrol the deep.
That’s truth, and far beyond all joke.
Plain facts from them we’d know,
Who roar
And deplore,
That our Navy’s running low,
That the Frank and Teuton fleets grow strong,
Whilst our Navy’s running low.
The money-bags of England
The balance yet can turn.
We ’re quite prepared to freely “ part,”
Cheese-paring fudge we’d spurn.
Facts, facts, ye ocean-warriors,
Are what we fain would know !
For the fame
Of your name
Every British heart will glow,
When Party fights are heard no more
And the Windbags cease to “ blow.”
Look at Home.—A thrill ran through the
stalwart frames of all London Publieans last
week on its being reported that the St. Pancras
Yestry were going to promote a Bill in Parlia-
ment for the abolition of all Bars in the
Metropolis. They were appeased when it was
explained that only ‘ ‘ obstructionist bars and
gates” were intended. Then, Vestrymen of
St. Pancras, why don’t you abolish Little
Mud-Salad Market in Goodge Street ?
Caution on Cards.—“Call a spade a
spade,” indeed; but mind how you venture
to call the Knave of Spades a Knave.
DISTINGUISHED AMATEURS.-THE ACTOR.
Billy Wapshot. “ I sat, look here, toe know ! Thkt’ve cast me for the part of Sir Guy Farliswoodde, an awful Ass
THAT EVERYONE KEEPS LAUGHING AT ! HOW THE DICKENS AM I TO Ad SUCH A BEASTLY PART AS THAT?—AND HOW AM I TO DRESS
FOR IT, I SHOULD LIKE TO KNOW ? ”
Brown (Stage Manager). “My dear Fellow, dress just as you are.'—and as for Acting, be as natural as you possibly
can! It will be an Immense Success!”
COPYRIGHT AND COMMON SENSE.
The Novelist and Dramatist of Called Bacl
are fortunate in getting another Advertise-
ment for their work in Mr. Justice ChittyV
Court. The decision was just. The Judge
wouldn’t say anything as to the “ merits of
the case.” Naturally. It is open to any Dra-
matist to dramatise (that being his vocation,
and “may he not labour in his vocation.
Hal ? ”) any story. They’ve “ all done it,”
and will do it to the end of time. But it is
not permissible for any Dramatist or Manager
so to trade on another Dramatist’s and another
Manager’s previous success as to mislead the
unsuspecting Public into supposing that “it
is the same concern.” In the battle of literary
life it is the Public that crowns the winner.
At school one theme is given for fifty boys
to work at in prose or verse, and only one
obtains the prize. There might be a hundred
dramatic versions of any novel presented to \
the Public,—why not F— and let the best ver-
sion win.
On Count Herbert von Bismarck, son of
Prince Yon Bismarck, the Emperor William
has conferred the Red Eagle, Third. Class.
The fledgling is now in high feather.
Doesn’t Master Herbert von Gladstone
wish he could have something conferred
on him ?—say the Order of the Gooseberry
J ampot.
RULING THE WAVES.
(.Freely Adapted from Campbell.)
Ye Mariners of England !
Who ’d guard our native seas,
What think ye, lads, every few years
Of this confounded breeze ?
They tell us we must launch more ships
Ere we may match the foe,
And weep
O’er the deep,
Whilst the Pressmen’s trumpets blow,
While the squabble rages loud and long,
And the Pressmen’s trumpets blow.
The spirits of your fathers
Would look extremely grave
At doubts thus thrown upon the fact
That Britain rules the wave.
Officials on each other fall;
One “ Yes ! ” says, t’other “ No ! ”
And sweep
O’er the deep,
Of big figures in a row,
Tabled Statistics stiff and long,
And figures in a row.
Britannia needs a Navy
Her world-wide watch to keep,
To ward her isle-encircling waves,
And to patrol the deep.
That’s truth, and far beyond all joke.
Plain facts from them we’d know,
Who roar
And deplore,
That our Navy’s running low,
That the Frank and Teuton fleets grow strong,
Whilst our Navy’s running low.
The money-bags of England
The balance yet can turn.
We ’re quite prepared to freely “ part,”
Cheese-paring fudge we’d spurn.
Facts, facts, ye ocean-warriors,
Are what we fain would know !
For the fame
Of your name
Every British heart will glow,
When Party fights are heard no more
And the Windbags cease to “ blow.”
Look at Home.—A thrill ran through the
stalwart frames of all London Publieans last
week on its being reported that the St. Pancras
Yestry were going to promote a Bill in Parlia-
ment for the abolition of all Bars in the
Metropolis. They were appeased when it was
explained that only ‘ ‘ obstructionist bars and
gates” were intended. Then, Vestrymen of
St. Pancras, why don’t you abolish Little
Mud-Salad Market in Goodge Street ?
Caution on Cards.—“Call a spade a
spade,” indeed; but mind how you venture
to call the Knave of Spades a Knave.