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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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THE END OF THE JUBILEE. I've been to the Abbey, the Naval Review, The Maske at Gray's Inn and the Institute too; In fact I feel just like the Wandering Jew, Or other historical rover: I've turned day into night and the night into day, In a regular rollicking Jubilee way, And now I can truly and thankfully say, I'm uncommonly glad that it's over. I've been to a number of...
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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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OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. Time and the Woman. By Richard Pryce. Not by any means a pearl of Pryce, and certainly not likely to make so great noise in the novel-reading world as did The Quiet Mrs. Fleming, by the same author. Methuen & Co. publish it. The Baron heartily recommends Frank Barrett's novel, in three vols., entitled, Kitty's Father. A thoroughly absorbing plot, well worked out, and...
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February 8, 1890. "Très volontiers," repartit le démon. "Vous aimez les tableaux changeans: je veux vous contenter." Le Diable Boiteux. XIX."A Late Symposium! Yet they're not engaged In compotations. Argument hath raged Four hours by the dial; But zealotry of party, creed, or clique Marks not the clock, whilst of polemic pique There's one unvoided vial." So smiled...
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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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"'The Humours of the Town!' Archaic phrase, Breathing of Brummel and the dandy days Of curly hats and gaiters! 'Humours' seem rarer now, at least by night, In this strange world of gilt and garish light, And bibulous wits and waiters." So I. The Shadow smiled. "There's food for mirth In every nook of the sun-circling earth That human foot hath trodden. Man, the...
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Being gifted with decent taste and a sensitive eye, I have never been much beguiled By advertisements, crude in colour, and ten feet high (Which, in fact, I rather reviled); And, as for gigantic signs swinging up in the sky— They drove me perfectly wild! II. Then the lurid posters on paling and chimney-stack Were the terror of every town— Till a League was started by Mr. William Black For the...
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POLITICAL MEETINGS. A Crowded, gas-lit, stuffy hall, A prosy speaker, such a duffer, A mob that loves to stamp and bawl, Noise, suffocation—how I suffer! What is he saying? "Mr. G. Attacks the British Constitution, It therefore—er—er—falls to me To move the first—er—resolution: "That—er—the Shrimpington-on-Sea United Primrose Habitations Pronounce ('Hear, hear!') these...
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UNTILED; OR, THE MODERN ASMODEUS. "Très volontiers," repartit le démon. "Vous aimez les tableaux changeans: je veux vous contenter."Le Diable Boiteux. XVIII."'Mrs. Mæcenas!' So some would-be witDubbed the fair dame. The title may not fitWith accurate completeness;It soars some shades too high, this modishmot,As 'Mrs.Lyon-Hunter' sinks too low;Both nick-names...
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XVI. "Midnight's meridian is supposed to mark The bound twixt toil and slumber. Light and dark Mete out the lives of mortals In happy alternation," said my guide. "Six hours must fleet ere Phoebus shall set wide His glowing orient portals. "The last loud halloo at the tavern-door long since has driven the reckless and the poor From misery's only haven Forth on the chilling...
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