And drown myself, just to come in for the soup.”
Punch, 1846.
Reflections on a Tea Table.
Know ye the land where the hot toast and muffin
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their spheres;
Where scandalous stories and hints about nuffin,
Now melt into whispers, now rise into sneers?
Know ye the land where the liquids and cake
Their circumvolutions consecutive make;