W. S. Gilbert Quotes - Page 4

The happiest hour a sailor sees Is when he's down At an inland town, With his Nancy on his knees, yo ho! And his arm around her waist!

Posterity shall know of me even less than I shall know of posterity.

Oh! a private buffoon is a light-hearted loon, If you listen to popular rumour; From morning to night he's so joyous and bright, And he bubbles with wit and good humour!

If your master is surly, from getting up early (And tempers are short in the morning), An inopportune joke is enough to provoke Him to give you, at once, a month's warning.

I am a courtier grave and serious Who is about to kiss your hand: Try to combine a pose imperious With a demeanour nobly bland.

I am the very model of a modern Major-General, I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral, I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical, From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical.

All bayonets are bad.

See how the Fates their gifts allot, For A is happy-B is not. Yet B is worthy, I dare say, Of more prosperity than A.

A popular speaker, however unpopular and insignificant, has only to wind up his speech with half-a-dozen lines of Shakespeare (and to make it clearly understood that they are Shakespeare's) and he will sit down amid thunders of applause.

When a felon s not engaged in his employment, Or maturing his felonious little plans, His capacity for innocent enjoyment Is just as great as any honest mans.

If the jests that you crack have an orthodox smack, You may get a bland smile from these sages; But should it, by chance, be imported from France, Half-a-crown is stopped out of your wages!

Bow, bow, ye lower middle classes! Bow, bow, ye tradesmen, bow, ye masses!

On my face extended flat I was walloped with a cat For listening at the key-hole of the door.

I am the very model of a modern major general

If I can wheedle A knife or a needle, Why not a Silver Churn?

Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold, And the mate of the Nancybrig, And a bos'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig!

I shall carry to the Catacombs of Age, Photographically lined On the tablet of my mind

Bind up their wounds - but look the other way.

Who knows but we may count among our intellectual chickens Like them an Earl of Thackeray and p'raps a Duke of Dickens

Society has quite forsaken all her wicked courses, Which empties our police courts, and abolishes divorces.

What though I cannot meet my bills? What though I suffer toothache's ills? What though I swallow countless pills?