Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 9, 2025
Oh, la! but he was vain, sir; vain as a peacock; it could not be of his person. Had he been, as Richard has it, 'a marvellous proper man' like myself, one might have said something. He used to say, I was too lean for Suett. Oh, dear. A votre santé, Monsieur, happy to see you on this side the Channel.
Mattocks, the sensiblest of viragos and Miss Pope, a gentlewoman ever, to the verge of ungentility, with Churchill's compliment still burnishing upon her gay Honeycomb lips. O for a "slip-shod muse," to celebrate in numbers, loose and shambling as himself, the merits and the person of Mr. Richard Suett, comedian!
Suett was then actually dying, yet would he have his joke, and his last moments were cheered by the horse-laugh of the rabble assembled to spell the bulletin suspended to "the second-floor bell," attested by the mark of the old woman who attended him. "You shall be buried in Saint Paul's," said a friend. "Oh, la!" was the dying ejaculation of the comedian. New Monthly Magazine.
"I am proud, sir," said Suett, with the formality of Black Rod himself, "to do the honours of my country to the representative of a nation which held my master Garrick in peculiar respect. He was a great actor, sir; a wonderful man! Your Lekain, or any other Cain, could not come up to him, for he was Able, Pardon the pun.
He, and he alone, literally makes faces: applied to any other person, the phrase is a mere figure, denoting certain modifications of the human countenance. Out of some invisible wardrobe he dips for faces, as his friend Suett used for wigs, and fetches them out as easily.
Thousands of hearts yet respond to the chuckling O La! of Dicky Suett, brought back to their remembrance by the faithful transcript of his friend Mathews's mimicry. The "force of nature could no further go." He drolled upon the stock of these two syllables richer than the cuckoo. Care, that troubles all the world, was forgotten in his composition.
The Duke of Ormond lived in Ormond House, two or three doors from the east corner. In 1805 the comedian Suett died in this row. Further down towards the river are enormous new red-brick mansions. Tite Street runs right through from Tedworth Square to the Embankment, being cut almost in half by Queen's Road West.
There were ragged wits, well-dressed students, new-fledged actors, a hackney writer or so, an Irish barrister named Shuter, a Scotch reporter, and a hodge-podge of most discordant materials congregated under the amalgamating power of Suett, who seemed, by the incongruity of his dress and diversified manner, to have studied the various tastes of those he swayed, and to be the comprehensive representative of each of the strange beings he looked upon, with all of whom he would occasionally identify himself with so much ease, that it were hard to say whether it was the result of labour or of tact, of calculation, or the mere impulse of mother-wit.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking