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F. C. (Francis Cowley) Burnand
Francis Cowley Burnand was a prominent English playwright and humorist, best known for his long association with the satirical magazine *Punch*, where he served as editor from 1880 to 1906. He wrote numerous plays and operas, including the successful burlesque "The Latest Edition of the White Cat" and the comic opera "The Chieftain" in collaboration with Arthur Sullivan. Burnand's work is noted for its wit and comedic brilliance, significantly influencing Victorian theatre and humor.
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MR. PUNCH'S DICTIONARY OF PHRASES.Journalistic."The Prisoner, who was fashionably attired, and of genteel appearance;" i.e., An ill-got-up swell-mobsman. "A powerful-looking fellow;" i.e., An awful ruffian. "A rumour has reached us"—(in the well-nigh impenetrable recesses wherein, as journalists, we habitually conceal ourselves). "Nothing fresh has transpired;"...
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Sweet odours, radiant colours, glittering light! How swift a change from the dusk sodden night Of London in mid-winter! Titania here might revel as at home; Fair forms are floating soft as Paphian foam, Bright as an iceberg-splinter. Dianas doubtless, yet their frost holds fire; The snowiest bosom covers soft desire, And these are snowy, verily. As blanched—and bare—as Himalaya's peaks,...
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Fleacatcher.—Yes, the trout in the river Itching (this is the only correct spelling) are red, and, before they are boiled, raw. The best method of catching them is to tickle them. When you have hooked an Itching trout, you first scratch him, and then cook him. Novice.—We only knew one man who could make a decent rod, and he died twenty years ago. Remember the old adage so dear to Izaak, Qui parcit...
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First Well-informed Man. There hasn't been much in this debate on the Addresses. Second W. I. M. Oh. I don't know. They've promised a pretty big list of measures. How they're going to find time for the lot I can't make out. First W. I. M. (contemptuously). Yes, that's always the way with these Governments. They all talk mighty big at the beginning of the Session, and then,...
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Chorus of Female Spectators. We shall see better here than what we did last Droring-Room. Law, 'ow it did come down, too, pouring the 'ole day. I was that sorry for the poor 'orses!... Oh, that one was nice, Marire! Did you see 'er train?—all flame-coloured satting—lovely! Ain't them flowers beautiful? Oh, Liza, 'ere's a pore skinny-lookin' thing coming...
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Yesterday, before the Theatres Committee of the London County Council, the appeal of Mr. Henry Irving (the well-known actor and manager) against the decision of the Sub-Committee to refuse a licence to the Lyceum Theatre, came on for hearing. After Mr. Henry Irving (who appeared in person) had addressed the Committee at some length, dwelling upon the character of the pieces he had produced during his...
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APRIL 12, 1890. My Dear Mr. Punch,—As the representative of Justice in this country, I appeal to you. And when I write this, you must not imagine that I claim, in my own person, to represent Justice—no, Sir, I only to some extent suggest the Law—a very different matter. But, Sir, as suggesting the Law, I apply to you for redress on behalf of hundreds, nay, thousands, of members of a very noble...
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MIXED NOTIONS. No. 1.—BI-METALLISM. Scene—A Railway-carriage in a suburban morning train to London. There are four Passengers, two of whom are well-informed men, while the third is an inquirer, and the fourth an average man. They travel up to London together every morning by the same train. The two Well-informed Men and the Average Man are City men; the Inquirer is a young Solicitor. They have just...
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Characters.Sir Poshbury Puddock (a haughty and high-minded Baronet). Verbena Puddock (his Daughter). Lord Bleshugh (her Lover). Spiker (a needy and unscrupulous Adventurer). Blethers (an ancient and attached Domestic). ACT I.—Scene—The Morning Room, at Natterjack Hall, Toadley-le-Hole; large window open at back, with heavy practicable sash. EnterBlethers. Blethers. Sir Poshbury's birthday...
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THE MAN WHO WOULD. II.—THE MAN WHO WOULD PLAY GOLF. Bulger was no cricketer, no tennis-player, no sportsman, in fact. But his Doctor recommended exercise and fresh air. "And I'm thinking, Sir," he added, "that you cannot do better than just take yourself down to St. Andrews, and put yourself under Tom Morris." "Is he a great Scotch physician?" asked Bulger; "I...
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