On passing sentence of death upon a prisoner who had been convicted of privately stealing a _time piece_, Lord Norbury, after dwelling upon the enormity of his crime, concluded a very impressive speech by observing, that he had been _grasping_ at _time_, and caught _eternity_.
Meeting with a lady in Dublin who was possessed of considerable property in a distant part of the country, and in whose welfare he had taken great interest, particularly during the progress of a bill through parliament for draining her lands, he accosted her, "Ah, my dear Mrs G----, how d'ye do?--how goes on your _water ways_?--I must come and take a view of your little _canal_ and _locks_."
A man having been capitally convicted before Lord Norbury, was, as usual, asked what he had to say why judgment of death should not pass against him--"Say!" replied he, "why, I think the joke has been carried far enough already, and the less that is said about it the better; so if you please, my lord, we'll drop the subject." "The _subject_ may _drop_," replied his lordship.
A gentleman helping his Lordship to some pie made of raspberry jam, inquired if he would have some more fruit? "_Jam satis_," replied the punster.
"Lord Byron calls his abusers _dogs_," said a friend to Lord Norbury; "No doubt he wishes them and their censures _cur-tailed_," was the reply.
Riding one day with a friend of the name of Speare, whose horse appeared to jolt him very much, his Lordship could not help observing it. "He is young, and awkward in his paces, but may mend," said Speare. "By the bye, my Lord, I want a name for him." "It must be _Shake-speare_, then," retorted his Lordship.
Sir Abraham Bradley King, Lord Mayor of Dublin, declined, through prudential motives, from giving, during his mayoralty, the Orange toast, so offensive to the King James's party. James, the next Lord Mayor, was not so particular, but gave it at his first dinner. Lord Norbury, who was present, could not help observing, "You are no friend to _King_,--_James_."
Lord Norbury calling one day on Mrs. O'Connor, the mattrass-maker in Sackville Street, Dublin, who is a very pretty woman, remonstrated with her on having so long delayed sending home his order: "Sure your Lordship," said the good woman, with great _naiveté_, "there's _no curled hair_ to be had now in Dublin, neither for _love nor money_." "By the powers above," replied his Lordship, looking amorously, "but it was very plentiful in this city, Mrs. O'Connor, when I was a _curly boy_."