Punch: Punch (100.1891)

210

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[May 2, 1891.

WHAT OUR FIN-DE-SIECLISTS ARE GROWING TO.

"Oh, oh, oh! Confound it I " "What is the Matter, Algy ? "

" I just let my foot out of the stirrup, and 1his beast of a pony 's trod on my toe 1

HYMEN AND CUPID.

(Fia-de-Siccle Version, someway after Moore.)

Hymen, late, his love-knots selling,
Called at many a maiden's dwelling ;
But he found too well they knew him ;
None were prompter to pooh-pooh him.

" Who'll buy my love-knots ?

Who '11 huy my love-knots P "
Soon as that old cry resounded,
How his baskets were surrounded !

Maidens mocked, with laughter dying,
Those fool-knots of Hymen's tying:;
Dames, who once with him had sided,
Openlv his wares derided.

" Who '11 huy my love-knots ?

Who '11 huy my love-knots ? "
All at that old cry came Hocking,
Mocking in a style quite shocking.

"Here are knots," said Hymen, taking
Some loose nooses of Law's making.
"Pooh!" the nymphs cried. "Who can

trust 'em ?
We have changed your queer old custom.

Who '11 buy your love-knots ?

Who '11 buy your love-knots ?
Women they bind not, nor tie men.
You 're a helpless gaoler, Hymen 1

" When the bargain is completed,
We have but to cry, ' We 're cheated ! '
And you '11 find you 're sold most sadly.
Love-knots ? Fools'-knots! They tie badly.

Who '11 buy your love-knots ?

Who '11 buy your love-knots p
Burdens you would lay our backs on—
Our reply is—Tolstoi ! Jackson ! "

Hymen dropped his torch; its splutter
Was extinguished in the gutter.
'' At my torch and crown of roses
These young minxes cock their noses.

Who '11 buy my love-knots?

Who '11 buy my love-knots ?
What's the use ? 'Twixt Law and Passion,
Hymen.'s pliinly out of fashion!

Love, who saw the whole proceeding,
Would have laughed but for good breeding.
" Best join me," he cried, " Old Chappie!
Ibsen read, be free, and happy !

Who '11 buy your love-knots ?

Who '11 buy your love-knots ?
Have a spree—all shackles scorning,
Come ! ' We won't go home till morning!' "

A BACONIAN THEORY;
Or, Trying it On.
Solomon isn't in it with Judge Bacon.
The point was whether Mrs. Manley had made
Miss Dorothy Dene's dresses to fit or not.
" To lit or not to fit, that was the question."
The Judge gave his decision after a fair trial
of the two costumes—this might be remem-
bered on both sides as "the trying-on case,"—
that, according to the evidence of unimpeach-
able witnesses represented by the Judge's own
common-sense and artistic eye for effect, two of
the dresses and a cloak didn't ht, and that so far,
the Defendant, Miss Dorothy, must consider
herself, in a dress-making sense, "non-suited."
Mrs. Manley had, of course, undertaken to
provide fits for her customers, and for having
partially failed, her customers determined to
return the compliment, by " giving her fits'' if

possible. So the parties came before Judge
Bacon, and appealed to His Honour. And the
learned Judge mindful of ancestral Baconian
wisdom, " Cast a severe eye upon the ex-
ample,'"—that is, he examined the dresses most
critically,—" but a merciful eye upon the per-
son" —for the fair Plaintiff and fair Defen-
dant His Honour showed himself a most fair
Judge, unwilling, as Bacon, "to give beans "
to either party, and so dismissing them with
his beany-diction. But, pauca verba,—and
may we always have nothing but praise to
bestow on Bacoji's Essays.

A DISCLAIMER.

{By an Unionist.)

I" prefer Par:nell" ? Ohdear.no!
There is no man I've hated so.
But, since he turned a fierce derider
Of him he calls the " Grand Old Spider ; "
Since he has 1 'blown" the Home-Rule "gaff,"
And whelmed the Gladstone gang with chaff;
Since he has almost wiped out Pigott,
Half justified the Orange bigot;
Proved part of the Times'1 charge at least,
And won the " Hill-men," lost the Priest;—
Since then—why, hang it, 'tis such fun,
I half forgive him all he's done ;
I '11 back him, bet on him, and grin ;
Give him my vote, and hope he '11 win.
But I prefer him ? Goodness gracious !
Why can't Gladstonians be veracious ?

Sir Henry Loch's "Straight Tip" to
the intrusive Boers in Mashonaland.—
" Play us none of your ' treks '! "