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Updated: May 15, 2025
Q. C. S. My Lord, while I am Queen I shall not think One Man too mean, or poor, to be redress'd; Moreover, Lord, I am inform'd your Laws Are grown so large, and daily yet encrease, That the great Age of old Methusalem Would scarce suffice to read your Statutes out." There is also much more than merely transitory satire in the speech of "Firebrand" to the Queen: "Firebrand.
"For my part," cried the modern Griselda, "I would sooner have lived an old maid to the days of Methusalem than have been so mean as to have married any man on earth upon such terms. But I know there are people who can never think 'marriage dear-bought. My dear Mrs. Granby, we have not yet heard your opinion, and we should have had yours first, as bride." "I forgot that I was bride," said Emma.
I afterwards did without the House fall in company with my Lady Peters, and endeavoured to mollify her: but she told me she would not, to redeem her from hell, do any thing to release him; but would be revenged while she lived, if she lived the age of Methusalem. I made many friends, and so did others.
"Yes, but I did though that is, I saw the lady of the house; and much as I liked master, I don't know but I liked mistress more such a dear, kind-hearted creature and so good-looking, Vernon one of the sort that would never look old, or grow ugly, even if she lived to the age of Methusalem.
When he reached Virginia, his old friend Goodman said, "Sam, you don't need anybody to introduce you," and he suggested a novel plan. That night, when the curtain rose, it showed Mark Twain seated at a piano, playing and singing, as if still cub pilot on the "John J. Roe:" "Had an old horse whose name was Methusalem, Took him down and sold him in Jerusalem, A long time ago."
It was some minutes before he could articulate a syllable; but, after shaking his intended father-in-law's hand with that violence which expresses so much to English feelings, he said, "I thank you heartily; and, if I live to the age of Methusalem, shall never forget this. A friend in need is a friend indeed.
"Is that Sammle?" says she. "Noo, t'ain't," that says. "A-well, is that Methusalem?" says she. "Noo, t'ain't that norther," he says. Then that looks at her with that's eyes like a cool o' fire, an that says, "Woman, there's only to-morrer night, an' then yar'll be mine!" An' away te flew. Well, she felt that horrud. Howsomediver, she hard the king a-comin' along the passage.
He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold: When we mind labour, then only, we're too old What age had Methusalem when he begat Saul? He would go journeying who but he? pleasantly." It sounds a trivial resolve, but it quickened Mr. McCunn to the depths of his being. A holiday, and alone! On foot, of course, for he must travel light.
Shouldn't wonder if there'd been some class and pedigree to him sometime. Then he had the impertinence to stick his dirty fingers into my friend's mouth and hoist his upper lip and say, 'Methusalem was old, but this plug could make him look like a suckling, I remember that I was angry, and that I wished that my friend had bitten him. I'd have done it myself if I had been big enough, or a horse.
"You will never understand it, Pinkerton," I would say. "You look to the result, you want to see some profit of your endeavours: that is why you could never learn to paint, if you lived to be Methusalem. The result is always a fizzle: the eyes of the artist are turned in; he lives for a frame of mind. Look at Romney now. There is the nature of the artist.
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