So richly gilt, and so superbly wrought!" "You're right," says Peter, "twas the Frame that caught: I grant my wife is ugly, squabby, old, But still she pleases-being set in gold; Let others for the Picture feel a flame, I, my good brother, married for the Frame!"
I THINK it was a Persian king Who used to say, that evermore In human life each evil thing
Comes of the sex that men adore; That nought, in brief, had e'er befell To harm or grieve our hapless race, But, if you probe the matter well,
You'll find a woman in the case!
And then the curious tale is told How, when upon a certain night A climbing youngster lost his hold, And, falling from a ladder's height, Was found, alas! next morning dead, His majesty, with solemn face, As was his wont, demurely said, "Pray, who's the woman in the case ?"
And how a lady in his Court,
Who deemed the royal whim absurd, Rebuked him while she made report
Of the mischance that late occurred; Whereat the king replied in glee,
"I've heard the story, please your grace, And all the witnesses agree
There was a woman in the case!
"The truth, your ladyship, is this, (Nor is it marvellous at all,) The youth was climbing for a kiss, And got, instead, a fatal fall. Whene'er a man-as I have said- Falls from a ladder, or from grace, Or breaks his faith, or breaks his head, There is a woman in the case!"
For such a churlish, carping creed As that his majesty professed, I hold him of unkingly breed-
Unless, in sooth, he spoke in jest; To me, few things have come to pass Of good event, but, I can trace-- Thanks to the matron or the lass- Somewhere, a woman in the case.
Yet once, while gaily strolling where A vast Museum still displays Its varied wealth of strange and rare, To charm, or to repel the gaze— I-to a lady (who denied
The creed by laughing in my face)- Took up, for once, the Persian's side About a woman in the case.
Discoursing thus, we came upon A grim Egyptian mummy-dead Some centuries since. 'Tis Pharaoh's son- Perhaps-who knows ?"-the lady said. No!-on the black sarcophagus
A female name I stooped to trace;
Toujours les femmes ! 'Tis ever thus- There is a woman in the case!"
In a fair lady's heart once a secret was lurking, It tossed and it tumbled, it longed to get out, The lips half-betrayed it by smiling and smirking, And tongue was impatient to blab it, no doubt. But honour looked gruff on the subject, and gave it In charge to the teeth, so enchantingly white, Should the captive attempt an elopement, to save it By giving the lips an admonishing bite.
'Twas said and 'twas settled, and honour departed, Tongue quivered and trembled, but dared not rebel, When right to its tip secret suddenly started,
And half in a whisper escaped from its cell.
Quoth the teeth, in a pet, "We'll be even for this," And they bit very smartly above and beneath, But the lips at that instant were bribed with a kiss, And they popped out the secret in spite of the teeth.
"CHILD!" said the bard, " dost thou wander now To gather fresh flowers for thy sunny brow? Or twin'st thou a garland pure and fair To fix in thy sleeping brother's hair? That when he wakes he may smile to see The nodding roses all plucked by thee? Tell me, thou child!" "No," said the child, with accent clear, "I comes just now wi' ma feyther's beer!"
'Thy father's bier? has he left thee, child,
To the world's cold blasts and its tempests wild? Has he left thee beside a deserted hearth With no one to guard thee on all the earth? Has he sunk in his pride 'neath the hand of Fate, And left thee, thou lone one, desolate ?
"No" said the child with that sunny brow, "He's been all this mornin' arter the plough!"
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.
A FRIEND of mine was married to a scold, To me he came, and all his troubles told. Said he, "She's like a woman raving mad." "Alas! my friend," said I, "that's very bad!" "No, not so bad," said he; "for, with her, true, I had both house and land, and money too." "That was well," said I;
'No, not so well," said he; "For I and her own brother Went to law with one another; I was cast, the suit was lost,
And every penny went to pay the cost."
That was bad," said I;
"No, not so bad," said he :
"For we agreed that he the house should keep, And give to me four score of Yorkshire sheep; All fat, and fair, and fine, they were to be."
"Well, then," said I, sure that was well for thee?"
No, not so well," said he; "For, when the sheep I got,
They every one died of the rot." "That was bad,” said I;
"No, not so bad," said he;
"For I had thought to scrape the fat And keep it in an oaken vat;
Then into tallow melt for winter store." "Well, then," said I, "that's better than before ?" ""Twas not so well, said he ;
"For having got a clumsy fellow To scrape the fat and melt the tallow ; Into the melting fat the fire catches, And, like brimstone matches,
Burnt my house to ashes."
"That was bad," said I;
"No! not so bad," said he; for, what is best, My scolding wife has gone among the rest."
PARAMOUNT PUNNING; ON SETTING UP AND SITTING DOWN.
A CHAP once told St. Patrick's Dean,
While rising from his seat, "I mean
Ah," quoth the Dean, "if that be true, The very best thing you can do
Is down again to sit."
Too many, like that would-be wit, Set up for what they are not fit, And always lose their aim;— Set up for wisdom, wealth, renown, But end the farce by sitting down, In poverty and shame.
A middling farmer thinks he can Set up to be a gentleman,
And then sit down content; But after many a turn and twist, Is set down on the pauper list, A fool, not worth a cent!
When farmers' wives and daughters fair Set up with silks and Leghorns rare, To look most wondrous winning; They set upon a slippery stand, Till indigence, with iron hand, Upsets their underpinning.
Some city ladies, too, whose gear Has made them to their husbands dear, Set up to lead the ton; Though they sit high on fashion's seat, Age, death, or poverty, albeit
Will set them down anon.
Some fools set up to live by law, And though they are all over jaw," Soon fail for lack of brains: But had the boobies only just Known where they ought to sit at first, They'd saved a world of pains.
A quack sets up the doctor's trade, But could he use the sexton's spade No better than his pills,
The man might toil from morn to night, And find his match with all his might To bury half he kills.
You may set up for what you choose As easily as wear old shoes,
If e'er so low at present;
But when you have set up in vain, And find you must sit down again, "Tis terribly unpleasant.
JOE WOOD he was a carpenter, A straight-edged man of rules; A cold once seized upon his chest, And a thief upon his tools.
He called his wife in through the panes. And, though much pained, he kissel br:
She placed a blister to his chest,
And for her pains he blessed her.
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