Others may talk of feasts of love,
    And banqueting upon thy charms;
  But did not I devotion prove,
    Last Sunday, at the Stanhope Arms? 
  My rival order’d tea for four,
    The waiter at his bidding laid it;
  He generously ran the score,
      But, Mary, I did more,—­I paid it.

  I know he’s dashing, bold, and free,
    A front of Jove, an eye of fire;
  But should he say he loves like me,
    I’d, like Apollo, strike the lyre. 
  He says, he at your feet will throw
    His all; and, if his vows are steady,
  He cannot equal me—­for, oh! 
    I’ve given you all I had, already.

  Mary, I had a second suit
    Of clothes, of which the coat was braided;
  Mary, they went to buy that flute
    With which I thee have serenaded. 
  Mary, I had a beaver hat,
    Than this I wear a great deal better;
  Mary, I’ve parted too with that,
    For pens, ink, paper—­for this letter.

* * * * *

PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE.

Dear PUNCH,—­Will you inform me whether the review of the troops noticed in last Saturday’s Times, is to be found in the “Edinborough,” “Westminster,” or “Quarterly.”

Yours, in all mayoralties,
PETER LAURIE.

P.S.—­What do they mean by

[Illustration:  SALUTING A FLAG?]

* * * * *

“GO ALONG, BOB.”

Sir Bobby Peel, who, before he got into harness, professed himself able to draw the Government truck “like bricks,” has changed his note since he has been put to the trial, and he is now bawling lustily—­“Don’t hurry me, please—­give me a little time.”  Wakley, seeing the pitiable condition of the unfortunate animal, volunteered his services to push behind, and the Chartist and Tory may now be seen every night in St. Stephen’s, working cordially together, and exhibiting an illustration of the benefits of a

[Illustration:  DIVISION OF LABOUR.]

* * * * *

CONS BY OUR OWN COLONEL.

Why is a loud laugh in the House of Commons like Napoleon
Buonaparte?—­Because it’s an M.P. roar (an Emperor).

Why is a person getting rheumatic like one locking a
cupboard-door?—­Because he’s turning achy (a key).

Why is one-and-sixpence like an aversion to coppers?—­Because it’s hating pence (eighteen-pence).

* * * * *

PUNCH’S THEATRE.

DIE HEXEN AM RHEIN; OR, RUDOLPH OF HAPSBURGH.