MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING IN THE CITY
Reading edition
Sigh no more dealers, sigh no more, Shares were unstable ever, They often have been down before, At high rates constant never. Then sigh not so, Soon up they'll go, And you'll be blithe and funny, Converting all your notes of woe Into hey, money, money. Write no more letters, write no mo On stocks so dull and heavy. At times on 'Change 'tis always so, When bears a tribute levy. Then sigh not so, And don't be low, In sunshine you'll make honey, Converting all your notes of woe, Into hey, money, money.
"The Deserted Village."—London in September.
The Clockmaker's Paradise.—Seven Dials.
Studies in Evolution.
Alderman Brownjones senior explains to his son, Alderman Brownjones junior, that there is a lamentable falling-off since his day, in the breed of aldermen-sheriffs—not only in style and bearing, but even in "happetite"!
Gent (rushing out of club in a terrific hurry). "I say, cabby, drive as fast as you can to Waterloo—Leatherhead!"
Cabby. "'Ere, I say, not so much of your leather'ed, if you please!"
[
Goes off grumbling.
Mrs. Snobson (who is doing a little slumming for the first time and wishes to appear affable, but is at a loss to know how to commence conversation). "Town very empty!"