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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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OPENING OF THE IMPERIAL INSTITUTE. Another Show! A splendid Imperial Show! Magnificent weather! Real Queen's weather, and consequently a big success. The grandeur, the solidarity of the British Empire—[&c., &c. ** Editor regrets that for lack of space he is compelled to omit the remainder of this remarkably fine panegyric. He suggests to Author that it would come out well in pamphlet...
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PHANTASMA-GORE-IA! Picturing the Various Modes of Melodramatic Murder. (By Our "Off-his"-Head Poet.) No. IV.—The "Over-the-Cliff" Murder. It may be this—that the Villain base Has insulted the hero's girl; It may be this—that he's brought disgrace On a wretchedly-acted Earl. I care not which it may chance to be, Only this do I chance to know— A cliff looks down at a...
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"WELL MATCHED." Medico (pathetically, with a view to touching the Dealer's heart). "Now, Mr. Bobbs, what do you think I could get a thoroughly good useful Pair of Horses for, eh? Price not stiff." Mr. Bobbs. "Lor' bless you, Sir, to find Horses—nothin' easier. but, as regards Price—well—you can have 'em at all Prices, just as you can Doctors!" MIXED...
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IN THE LANE. Monday.—Carmen exceptionally excellent. Miss Zélie de Lussan, gifted with a light, pleasant voice, sang admirably. Can't have "Trop de Zélie." Mr. Barton McGuckin, as Don Jim-along-José, did all that can be done with this weak-minded soldier. No holes to be picked in Mr. McG.'s performance, though there was a portion of his costume that would have been the better for...
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The Elysian Fields, a flower-gemmed bank, by a flowing stream, beneath the sylvan shade of unfading foliage. Mr. Punch—who is free of all places, from Fleet Street to Parnassus—discovered, in Arcadian attire, attempting "numerous verse" on a subject of National importance—to wit, the approaching Royal Marriage. Mr. Punch. Propt on this "bank of amaranth and moly,"Beneath the shade...
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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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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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AT A HYPNOTIC SÉANCE. SCENE—A Public Hall in a provincial town. The Hypnotist—a tall, graceful, and handsome young man, in well-fitting evening clothes—has already succeeded in putting most of his subjects to sleep, and is going round and inspecting them critically, as they droop limply on a semicircle of chairs, in a variety of unpicturesque attitudes. The only Lady on the platform is evidently...
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YOUNG GRANDOLPH'S BARTY. (Afrikander Version of the great Breitmann Ballad, penned, "more in sorrow than in anger," by a "Deutscher" resident in the distant regions where the Correspondent of the "Daily Graphic" is, like der Herr Breitmann himself, "drafellin' apout like eferydings.") Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty— Vhere is dat Barty now? He fell'd in luf...
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LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS. No. XVII.—TO FAILURE. A Philosopher has deigned to address to me a letter. "Sir," writes my venerable correspondent, "I have been reading your open letters to Abstractions with some interest. You will, however, perhaps permit me to observe that amongst those to whom you have written are not a few who have no right whatever to be numbered amongst Abstractions....
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