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George Colman

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• Arts

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• Publié par: ecopuhep
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 176
• Langue: Français
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Broad Grins, by George Colman, the Younger

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

Title: Broad Grins  Comprising, With New Additional Tales in Verse, Those  Formerly Publish'd Under the Title "My Night-Gown and  Slippers."

Author: George Colman, the Younger

Release Date: May 11, 2008 [EBook #25426]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BROAD GRINS ***

Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

 

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Y   GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER;

COMPRISING, WITH NEW ADDITIONAL   TALES IN VERSE,

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THOSE FORMERLY PUBLISH’D UNDER THE TITLE   “MY NIGHT-GOWN AND SLIPPERS.”

“DEME SUPERCILIO NUBEM.”

 

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THE EIGHTH EDITION.

LONDON: H. G. BOHN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. MDCCCXXXIX.

A D V E R T I S E

M Y  Booksellers inform’d me, lately, that several inquiries had been made forMy Night-Gown and Slippers,—but that every copy had been sold;—they had been out of print these two years.—“Then publish them again,” said I, boldly,—(I print at my own risk)—and with an air of triumph. Messrs. Cadell and Davies advise’d me to make additions.—“TheWorkis, really, too short,” said Messrs. Cadell and Davies,—“I wish, gentlemen,” return’d I, “my readers were of your opinion.”—“I protest, Sir,” said they, (and they asserted it, both together, with great emphasis,) “you have butThree Tales.”—I told them, carelessly, it was enough for the greatestBashaw, among modern poets, and wish’d them a good morning. When a man, as Sterne observes, “can extricate himself with anequivoque match,”—(and, in such an unequal two booksellers to one poet are tremendous odds)—“he is not ill off;”—but reflecting a little, as I went home, I began to think my pun was a vile one, —and did not assist me, one jot, in my argument;—and, now I have put it upon paper, it appears viler still;—it is execrable.—So, without much further reasoning, I sat down to rhyming;—rhyming, as the reader will see, in open defiance ofall reason,—except the reasons of Messrs. Cadell and Davies.— Thus you haveMy Night-Gown and Slippers, withAdditions, converted to Broad Grins;—and ’tis well if they may not end inWide Yawns at last! Should this be the case, gentle Reviewers, do not, ungratefully, attempt to break my sleep, (you will find it labour lost to) because I have contributed your’s.

GEORGE COLMAN, the Younger. May, 1820.

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M Y N IGHT - GOWN   AND S LIPPERS . T OM , D ICK , AND W ILL , WERE   LITTLE   KNOWN   TO F AME T HE W ATER -F IENDS . D ICK   ENDED :—T OM   AND W ILL   APPROVE ’ D   HIS   STRAINS T HE N EWCASTLE A POTHECARY . E RE W ILL   HAD   DONE ’ TWAS   WAXING   WOND ’ ROUS   LATE L ODGINGS   FOR S INGLE G ENTLEMEN . T HE K NIGHT   AND   THE F RIAR . T HE K NIGHT   AND   THE F RIAR , P ART F IRST . S IR T HOMAS E RPINGHAM ’ S S ONNET   ON H IS L ADY . T HE K NIGHT   AND   THE F RIAR , P ART   THE S ECOND . Y E C RITICKS , AND   YE H YPER -C RITICKS !— WHO T HE E LDER B ROTHER .

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T OM , D ICK , and W ILL , were little known to Fame;— No matter;— But to the Ale-house, oftentimes, they came, To chatter.

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It was the custom of these three To sit up late; And, o’er the embers of the Ale-house fire, When steadier customers retire, The choiceTriumviri, d’ye see, Held a debate. Held a debate?—On politicks, no doubt. Not so;—they care’d not who was in, No, not a pin;— Nor who was out. All their discourse on modern Poets ran; For in the Muses was their sole delight;— They talk’d of such, and such, and such a man; Of those who could, and those who could not write. It cost them very little pains To count the modern Poets, who had brains. ’Twas a small difficulty;—’twasn’t any; They were so few: But to cast up the scores of men Who wield a stump they call a pen, Lord! they had much to do,— They were so many! Buoy’d on a sea of fancy, Genius rises, And like the rare Leviathan surprises; But thesmall fryof scribblers!—tiny souls! They wriggle thro’ the mud in shoals. It would have raise’d a smile to see the faces They made, and the ridiculous grimaces, At many an author, as they overhaul’d him. They gave no quarter to a calf, Blown up with puff, and paragraph; But, if they found him bad, they maul’d him. On modern Dramatists they fell, Pounce,vi et armis—tooth and nail—pell mell. They call’d them Carpenters, and Smugglers; Filching their incidents from ancient hoards, And knocking them together, like deal boards: And Jugglers; Who all the town’s attention fix, By making—Plays?—No, Sir, by makingtricks. The Versifiers—Heaven defend us! They play’d the very devil with their rhymes. They hope’d Apollo a new set would send us;