The Punster's Pocket-book Part 7

letters and young children's p.r.o.nunciation, till a year after I had proposed this rule to Dr.----, who was an excellent judge of the advantage it might be to the public; when, to my great surprise, tumbling over the third tome of Alstedius, p. 71, right loth to believe my eyes, I met with the following pa.s.sage: "Ambigua multam faciunt ad hanc rem, oujusmodi exempla plurima reperiuntur apud Plautum, qui in ambiguis crebro ludit. Joci captantur ex permutatione syllabarum et voc.u.m, ut pro _De_cretum, _Dis_cretum; pro _Me_dicus, _Men_dicus et _Mer_dicus: pro Poly_carpus_, Poly_eopros_. Item ex syllabarum ellipsi, ut ait Althusisus, cap. iii. civil. convers. pro Casimirus, _J'rus_; pro Marcus, _Arcus_; pro Vinosus, _Osus_; pro Sacerdotium, _Otium_. Sic, additione literae, pro Urba.n.u.s, _Turba.n.u.s_:" which exactly corresponded to every branch and circ.u.mstance of my rule. Then, indeed, I could not avoid breaking out into the following exclamations, and that after a most pathetic manner: "Wretched Tom Pun-Sibi! Wretched indeed! Are all thy nocturnal lucubrations come to this? Must another, for being a hundred years before thee in the world, run away with the glory of thy own invention? It is true, he must. Happy Alstedius! who, I thought, would have stood me in _all-stead_, upon consulting thy method of joking! _All's tedious_ to me now, since thou hast robbed me of that honour which would have set me above all writers of the present age. And why not, happy Tom Pun-Sibi? did we not jump together like true wits?

But, alas! thou art on the safest side of the bush; my credit being liable to the suspicion of the world, because you wrote before me.

Ill-natured critics, in spite of all my protestations, will condemn me, right or wrong, for a plagiary. Henceforward never write any thing of thy own; but pillage and trespa.s.s upon all that ever wrote before thee: search among dust and moths for things new to the learned. Farewell, study; from this moment I abandon thee: for, wherever I can get a paragraph upon any subject whatsoever ready done to my hand, my head shall have no further trouble than see it fairly transcribed!"--And this method, I hope, will help me to swell out the Second Part of this work.

THE END OF THE FIRST PART.

TOM PUN-SIBI;

OR,

THE GIBER GIB'D[14].

_Mirandi novitate movebere mostri._--Ovid.

[14] The Art of Punning was originally printed at Dublin in 1719, immediately reprinted in London, and then pretty generally ascribed to Dr. Swift. It appears, however, that in this instance the Dean was only an a.s.sistant; the piece having been written by Dr. Sheridan, and corrected and improved by Dr. Swift, Dr. Delany, and Mr. Rochfort.

Although it does not seem calculated to give offence to any one, it however called forth the above Satire from the pen of Dr. Tisdal.

Tom was a little merry grig, Fiddled and danced to his own jig; Good-natured, but a little silly; Irresolute, and shally-shilly: What he should do, he cou'dn't guess.

Swift used him like a man at chess; He told him once that he had wit, But was in jest, and Tom was bit.

Thought himself second son of Phbus, For ballad, pun, lampoon, and rebus.

He took a draught of Helicon, But swallowed so much water down, He got a dropsy; now they say, 'tis Turn'd to poetic diabetes; For all the liquor he has pa.s.s'd, Is without spirit, salt, or taste: But, since it pa.s.s'd, Tom thought it wit, And so he writ, and writ, and writ: He writ the famous Punning Art, The Benefit of p--s and f--t; He writ the Wonder of all Wonders; He writ the Blunder of all Blunders; He writ a merry farce or poppet, Taught actors how to squeak and hop it; A treatise on the Wooden-man[15], A ballad on the nose of Dan; The art of making April fools, The four-and-thirty quibbling rules.

The learned say, that Tom went snacks With Philomaths, for almanacks; Though they divided are, for some say, He writ for Whaley, some for c.u.mpstey[16].

Hundreds there are, who will make oath, That he writ almanacks for both; And, though they made the calculations, Tom writ the monthly observations!

Such were his writings, but his chatter Was one continual c.l.i.tter-clatter.

Swift slit his tongue, and made it talk, Cry, 'Cup o' sack,' and 'Walk, knave, walk!'

And fitted little prating Pall For wire-cage, in Common-Hall; Made him expert at quibble-jargon, And quaint at selling of a bargain.

Pall, he could talk in different linguos, But he could not be taught distinguos: Swift tried in vain, and angry thereat, Into a spaniel turn'd the parrot; Made him to walk on his hind-legs, He dances, fawns, and paws, and begs; Then cuts a caper o'er a stick[17], Lies close, does whine, and creep, and lick: Swift put a bit upon his snout, Poor Tom! he daren't look about; But when that Swift does give the word, He snaps it up, though 'twere a t--.

Swift strokes his back, and gives him victual, And then he makes him lick his spittle.

Sometimes he takes him on his lap, And makes him grin, and snarl, and snap.

He sets the little cur at me; Kick'd, he leapt upon his knee; I took him by the neck to shake him, And made him void his _alb.u.m Graec.u.m_.

'Turn out the stinking cur, pox take him!'

Quoth Swift: though Swift could sooner want any Thing in the world, than a Tanta-ny, And thus not only makes his grig A parrot, spaniel, but his pig.

[15] The wooden-man was a famed door-post in Dublin.

[16] Famous Irish almanack makers.

[17] This was literally true between Swift and Sheridan.

ADVERTIs.e.m.e.nT.

The Second Part of this Work will be published with all convenient expedition: to which will be added, A small Treatise of Conundrums, Carriwhichits, and Long-pet.i.tes; together with the Winter-fire's Diversion; The Art of making Rebuses; The Antiquity of Hoop-petticoats proved from Adam's two Daughters, Calmana and Delbora, &c. &c. &c.

A

PUNNING LETTER

TO THE

EARL OF PEMBROKE,

PRETENDED TO BE THE DYING SPEECH OF TOM ASHE, WHOSE BROTHER, THE REVEREND DILLON ASHE, WAS NICK-NAMED DILLY.

Tom Ashe died last night. It is conceived he was so puffed up by my lord lieutenant's _favour_, that it struck him into a _fever_. I here send you his dying speech, as it was exactly taken by a friend in short-hand.

It is something long, and a little incoherent; but he was several hours delivering it, and with several intervals. His friends were about the bed, and he spoke to them thus:

My Friends,

It is time for a man to look _grave_, when he has one foot there. I once had only a _pun_nic fear of death; but of late I have _pun_dred it more seriously. Every fit of _coughing_ hath put me in mind of my _coffin_; though _dissolute_ men seldomest think of _dissolution_. This is a very great alteration: I, that supported myself with good _wine_, must now be myself supported by a _small bier_. A fortune-teller once looked on my hand, and said, 'This man is to be a great traveller; he will soon be at the _Diet_ of _Worms_, and from thence go to _Ratisbone_.' But now I understand his double meaning. I desire to be privately _buried_, for I think a public funeral looks like _Bury_ fair; and the _rites_ of the dead too often prove _wrong_ to the living. Methinks the word itself best expresses the number, neither _few nor all_. A dying man should not think of _obsequies_, but _ob se quies_. Little did I think you would so soon see poor _Tom stown_ under a _tomb stone_. But as the _mole_ crumbles the _mould_ about her, so a man of small _mould_, before I am _old_, may _moulder_ away. Sometimes I've _rav'd_ that I should _rev_ive; but physicians tell me, that, when once the great _artery_ has drawn the _heart awry_, we shall find the _cor di all_, in spite of all the highest _cordial_. Brother, you are fond of _Daffy's_ elixir: but, when death comes, the world will see that, in spite of _Daffy down Dilly_, whatever doctors _may design_ by their _medicines_, a man in a _dropsy drops he_ not, in spite of G.o.ddard's _drops_, though none are reckoned such _high drops_?--I find death smells the blood of an Englishman: a _fee_ faintly _fum_bled out will be a weak defence against his _fee-fa-fum_.--_P.T._ are no letters in death's _alphabet_; he has not _half a bit_ of either: he moves his _scythe_, but will not be moved by all our _sighs_. Every thing ought to put us in mind of death.

Physicians affirm, that our very food breeds it in us; so that in our _dieting_, we may be said to _di eating_. There is something ominous, not only in the names of diseases, as _di_-arrha, _di_-abetes, _di_-sentery, but even in the drugs designed to preserve our lives; as _di_-acodium, _di_-apente, _di_-ascordium. I perceive Dr. _Howard_ (and I feel _how hard_) _lay thumb_ on my _pulse_, then _pulls_ it back, as if he saw _lethum_ in my face. I see as bad in his; for sure there is no _physic_ like a _sick phiz_. He thinks I shall _decease_ before the _day cease_; but, before I die, before the bell hath _toll'd_, and _Tom Tollman_ is _told_ that little _Tom_, though not _old_, has paid nature's _toll_, I do desire to give some advice to those that survive me. First, let gamesters consider that death is _hazard_ and _pa.s.sage_, upon the turn of a _die_. Let lawyers consider it as a hard _case_. And let punners consider how hard it is to _die jesting_, when death is so hard in _digesting_.

As for my lord-lieutenant the Earl of _Mungomerry_, I am sure he _be-wales_ my misfortune; and it would move him to stand by, when the carpenter (while my friends grieve and make an _odd splutter_) _nails_ up my coffin. I will make a short _affidavi_-t, that, if he makes my _epitaph_, I will take it for a great honour; and it is a plentiful subject. His excellency may say, that the art of punning is dead with _Tom_. _Tom_ has taken all puns away with him. _Omne tulit pun-Tom._----May his excellency long _live tenant_ to the queen in _Ireland_. We never _Herberd_ so good a governor before. Sure he _mun-go-merry_ home, that has made a kingdom so happy. I hear, my friends design to publish a collection of my puns. Now I do confess, I have let many a _pun go_, which did never _pungo_; therefore the world must read the bad as well as the good. Virgil has long foretold it: _Punica mala leges_.----I have had several forebodings that I should soon die: I have of late been often at committees, where I have sat de _die_ in _diem_.----I conversed much with the _usher_ of the _black rod_: I saw his _medals_; and woe is _me dull_ soul, not to consider they are but dead men's faces _stampt over_ and _over_ by the living, which will shortly be my condition.

Tell Sir _Anthony Fountain_, I _ran_ clear to the _bottom_, and wish he may be a late _a river_ where I am going. He used to _brook_ compliments. May his _sand_ be long a _running_; not _quick sand_ like mine! Bid him avoid _poring_ upon monuments and books; which is in reality but _running_ among _rocks_ and _shelves_, to _stop_ his _course_. May his _waters_ never be _troubled_ with _mud_ or _gravel_, nor _stopt_ by any _grinding stone_! May his friends be all true _trouts_, and his enemies laid as flat as _flounders_! I look upon him as the most _fluent_ of his _race_; therefore let him not _despond_. I foresee his black _rod_ will advance to a _pike_, and destroy all our _ills_.

But I am going; my _wind in_ lungs is turning to a _winding_ sheet. The thoughts of _a pall_ begin to _a pall_ me. Life is but a _vapour_, car elle _va pour_ la moindre cause. Farewell: I have lived ad amicorum _fastidium_, and now behold how _fast I dium_!

Here his breath failed him, and he expired. There are some false spellings here and there; but they must be pardoned in a dying man.

A

LETTER

GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF

A PESTILENT NEIGHBOUR.

Sir,

You must give me leave to complain of a _pestilent_ fellow in my neighbourhood, who is always beating _mortar_; yet I cannot find he ever builds. In talking, he useth such hard words, that I want a Drugger-man to interpret them. But all is not gold that _glisters_. _A pot he carries_ to most houses where he visits. He makes his prentice his _gally_ slave. I wish our lane were _purged_ of him. Yet he pretends to be a _cordial_ man. Every _spring_ his shop is crowded with country-folks, who, by their _leaves_, in my opinion, help him to do a great deal of mischief. He is full of _scruples_; and so very litigious, that he _files bills_ against all his acquaintance: and, though he be much troubled with the _simples_, yet I a.s.sure you he is a _Jesuitical dog_; as you may know by his _bark_. Of all poetry he loves the _dram-a-tick_. I am, &c.

A