Summary

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

UNICORN.—I know naturalists dispute my existence, but if, as you unkindly say, I am only a fiction, why should I have been selected as a supporter of the royal arms?
LION.—Why, you fool, for that very reason. Have you been where you are for so many years, and yet don’t know that often, in state matters, the greater the lie the greater the support?
UNICORN.—Right. When I reflect—I have greater doubts of my truth, seeing where I am.
LION.—But here am I, in myself a positive majesty, degraded into a petty-larceny scoundrel; yes, all my inherent attributes compromised by my position. Oh, Hercules!
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

Miss Biddy, I’m wasting away like a farthing candle in the dog-days—I’m going down to my snug grave through your cruelty. The daisies will be growing over me afore next Easther—Ugh—ugh—ugh. I’ve a murderin’ cough too, and nothing can give me ase but yourself, Miss Biddy,” cried Terence eagerly.
“Hush! they’ll hear you,” said the heiress.
“I don’t care who hears me,” replied Terence desperately; “I can’t stand dying by inches this way. I’ll destroy myself.”
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

The man of small wares was, in truth, a dangerous rival, from his very insignificance. Had he been a man of spirit or corporal consideration, Terence would have pistolled or thrashed him out of his audacious notions; but the creature was so smiling and submissive that he could not, for the life of him, dirty his fingers with such a contemptible wretch. Thus Tibbins continued flattering and wriggling himself into Miss Biddy’s good graces, while Terence was fighting and kissing the way to her heart, till the poor girl was fairly bothered between them.
Source: Gutenberg

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