Читать книгу Mr. Punch's Irish Humour in Picture and Story - Группа авторов - Страница 8

Table of Contents

Every goose thinks his wife a duck.

No news in a newspaper isn't good news.

Manners make the gentleman, and the want of them drives him elsewhere for his shooting.

A miss is as good as a mile of old women.

Too many cooks spoil the broth of a boy.

It's foolish to spoil one's dinner for a ha'porth of tarts.

There are as fine bulls in Ireland as ever came out of it.

Necessity has no law, but an uncommon number of lawyers.

Better to look like a great fool, than to be the great fool you look.

A soft answer may turn away wrath, but in a Chancery suit, a soft answer is only likely to turn the scales against you.

One fortune is remarkably good until you have had another one told you.

Don't halloa until you have got your head safe out of the wood, particularly at Donnybrook Fair.

Lady (looking at new cob). "How does he go, Patrick?"

Irish Groom. "The very best, m'lady! Sure it's only now and then he touches the ground in odd spots."

Men of straw don't make the best bricks.

It's a narrow bed that has no turning.

When money is sent flying out of the window it's poverty that comes in at the door.

The pig that pleases to live must live to please.

One man may steal a hedge, whereas another daren't even as much as look at a horse.

Short rents make long friends—and it holds good equally with your landlord and your clothes.

The mug of a fool is known by there being nothing in it.

You may put the carte before the horse, but you can't make him eat.

Money makes the gentleman, the want of it the blackguard.

When wise men fall out, then rogues come by what is not their own.

A Bitter Bad Fruit.—A patriotic Irishman, expatiating eloquently upon the Lodge disturbances that were so repeatedly taking place in his country, exclaimed wildly: "By Jove, sir, you may call the Orange the Apple of Discord of Ireland."

Irate Station-master. "What the divil are ye waitin' for?"

Engine-driver. "Can't ye see the signals is against me?"

Station-master. "Is it the signals? Sure now, ye're gettin' mighty particular!"

Paddy. "Where will I catch the express for Dublin?"

Station-master. "Ye'll catch it all over ye if ye don't get off the line mighty quick!"

A Regular Turk.—Adjutant. "Well, sergeant, how's your prisoner getting on?" Sergeant of the Guard. "Bedad, sor, he's the vi'lentest blaggyard I iver had to do wid! We're all in tirror iv our loives! Shure we're obliged to feed him wid fixed bay'nits!"