Judge, 1912-12-28 · page 9 of 25
Judge — December 28, 1912 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains two distinct pieces: **Top illustration & dialogue**: A satirical scene spoofing romantic historical drama (appears to reference *Antony and Cleopatra*). The joke is deflating—when Antony threatens to catapult Cleopatra's beloved cook into the sea out of jealousy, Cleopatra's desperate response isn't romantic anguish but purely practical: "Where in all the world could I find another cook?" The satire mocks both overwrought theatrical passion and the reality that domestic convenience matters more than dramatic emotion. **Bottom illustration & caption**: "The Flirt"—a separate brief comedic scene showing a couple examining carved initials on a tree from last summer, reflecting on past romantic inscriptions. The caption's New Year's resolution message about "victory over yourself" suggests gentle mockery of flirtation and romantic indiscretion. Both pieces use humor to deflate sentimental romance with mundane reality or mild social critique typical of *Judge* magazine's satirical approach.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
DETERRED BY NO CIRCUMSTANCE. Photograph fend—* It's all right. ‘There are a lot of men coming with ropes and planks and things, They ‘Il be here in a minute. hath served me well in other matters, my Lord Antony.’’ “Perhaps thy messenger, going to Rome, bore a love word to Cesar,’’ sneered Antony. “Since I knew thee, my lord, Cwsar and I have been strangers; and the wine is true Falernian.’’ “Yet I like it not,” said Antony, who thrust his fingers into an elaborate dish on a golden plate garnished “This seemeth, despite its on its edges with pearls. trimmings, an apology for food,’’ said he, as he licked a finger. “Thou art losing thy fastidiousness, my lord and lover,’? said Cleopatra, her face reddening. ‘‘’Tis a pastry of nightingales’ tongues!"* “It tasteth,’’ cried Antony, ‘‘like a stew of the gizzards of guinea hens prepared by a Beotian scullion. Who is thy cook?” Cleopatra turned pale. A gesture to Charmian, and the great hall was instantly cleared of slaves. Cleopatra and Antony were alone. “My cook, noble Antony, is one I esteem—a Macedonian.’’ “A woman?”’ “A woma Now give it to me with both hands up."” “Is she fair to look upon?’’ “She hath labored in my kitchen for many seasons, THERE WERE MANY. The flirt—* Well, there is where we carved our initials last summer. Let's see, who was ‘H. L.’ Antony, and such labor maketh crooked the shape and cloudeth the visage of women.”’ “Then if she were mine—and thou wouldst do what would please me, wouldst thou not’’—— Cleopatra interrupted him. “‘Hast thou ever wished aught of me that came not with the wishing? What wouldst thou with my Macedonian?"’ “‘T would place her in the sling on thy tower’’—— “In the sling?” “Yea! and fire her into the waters beneath the palace!’’ “Fire her!’’ Cleopatra fell upon her knees. ‘‘Say not so, dear Antony! Anything but that! Say notso! Where in all the world could I find another cook?” There is still time enough left to determine what will be the greatest victory over yourself next year. comicbooks.com