Punch, Volumes 10-11

Front Cover
Mark Lemon, Henry Mayhew, Tom Taylor, Shirley Brooks, Francis Cowley Burnand, Owen Seaman
Punch Publications Limited, 1846 - Caricatures and cartoons

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Page 103 - WE know him, out of Shakespeare's art, And those fine curses which he spoke ; The old Timon. with his noble heart, That, strongly loathing, greatly broke. So died the Old : here comes the New, Regard him : a familiar face : I thought we knew him.
Page 246 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Page 246 - I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 0 Solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face ? Better dwell in the midst of alarms Than reign in this horrible place. 1 am out of humanity's reach, I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech, I start at the sound of my own. The beasts that roam over the plain My form with indifference see ; They are so unacquainted with man, Their tameness is shocking to me.
Page 271 - They are such favorites with the public, that they are continually obliged to have their pictures taken and published ; and one or two could be pointed out, of whom the nation insists upon having a fresh portrait every year.
Page 257 - If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle: I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent; That day he overcame the Nervii : — Look ! In this place ran Cassius...
Page 257 - For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech To stir men's blood.
Page 27 - Some heavenly music, (which even now I do,) To work mine end upon their senses, that This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And, deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book.
Page 103 - But you, Sir, you are hard to please; You never look but half content: Nor like a gentleman at ease, With moral breadth of temperament. And what with spites and what with fears, You cannot let a body be: It's always ringing in your ears, 'They call this man as good as me.

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