being the sole inventor of this incomparable rule: though I solemnly
protest, upon the word of an author (if an author may have credit),
that I never had the least hint toward it, any more than the ladies'
letters and young children's pronunciation, 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 passage: "Ambigua multam faciunt ad
hanc rem, oujusmodi exempla plurima reperiuntur apud Plautum, qui in
ambiguis crebro ludit. Joci captantur ex permutatione syllabarum et
vocum, 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 literæ, pro Urbanus, _Turbanus_:" which exactly corresponded
to every branch and circumstance 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 trespass 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 assistant; 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 Phœbus,
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 pass'd,
Is without spirit, salt, or taste:
But, since it pass'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 Cumpstey[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 clitter-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 _album Græcum_.
'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.
ADVERTISEMENT.
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-petites; 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 Goddard'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_-arrhœa, _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 _passage_,
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 assure 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
PUNNING EPISTLE ON MONEY.
Worthy Mr. Pennyfeather,
Madam Johnson has been very ill-used by her servants; they put
_shillings_ into her broth instead of _groats_, which made her stamp. I
hear they had them from one _Tom Ducket_, a tenant to Major _Noble_, who
I am told is reduced to _nine-pence_. We are doubting whether we shall
dine at the _Crown_ or the _Angel_. Honest _Mark Cob_, who has been much
_moydored_ of late, will dine with us, but 'Squire _Manypenny_ and
Captain _Sterling_ desire to be excused, for they are engaged with Ned
_Silver_ to dine in _Change_-alley. They live in great har-_mony_; they
met altogether last week, and sate as loving as horses in a _pound_. I
suppose you have heard of the _rhino_-ceros lately arrived here. A
captain was _cash_-iered on Wednesday. A scavenger abused me this
morning, but I made him down with his dust, which indeed was a
_far-thing_ from my intentions. Mrs. Brent had a _pi-stole_ from her; I
would a' _ginny'e_ a good deal for such another. Mrs. _Dingley_ has made
a _souse_ for your collard-eel. Alderman _Coyn_ presents his service to
you. I have nothing but _half-pens_ to write with, so that you must
excuse this scrawl. One of my seals fell into a _chink_. I am, without
alloy,
Your most obedient,
TOM MITE.
P.S. Mr. _Cole_ presents his service to you, of which I am a-_tester_.
GOD'S REVENGE AGAINST PUNNING,
BY DR. ARBUTHNOT;
SHOWING THE MISERABLE FATES OF PERSONS ADDICTED
TO THIS CRYING SIN IN COURT AND TOWN.
Manifold have been the judgments which Heaven, from time to time, for
the chastisement of a sinful people, has inflicted on whole nations. For
when the degeneracy becomes common, 'tis but just the punishment should
be general: Of this kind, in our own unfortunate country, was that
destructive pestilence, whose mortality was so fatal, as to sweep away,
if Sir William Petty may be believed, five millions of Christian souls,
besides women and Jews.
Such also was that dreadful conflagration ensuing, in this famous
metropolis of London, which consumed, according to the computation of
Sir Samuel Morland, 100,000 houses, not to mention churches and stables.
Scarce had this unhappy nation recovered these funest disasters, when
the abomination of playhouses rose up in this land: from hence hath an
inundation of obscenity flowed from the court and overspread the
kingdom. Even infants disfigured the walls of holy temples with
exorbitant representations of the members of generation: nay, no sooner
had they learnt to spell, but they had wickedness enough to write the
names thereof in large capitals: an enormity observed by travellers to
be found in no country but England.
But when whoring and popery were driven hence by the happy Revolution,
still the nation so greatly offended, that Socinianism, Arianism, and
Whistonism triumphed in our streets, and were in a manner become
universal.
And yet still, after all these visitations, it has pleased Heaven to
visit us with a contagion more epidemical, and of consequence more
fatal: this was foretold to us, first, by that unparalleled eclipse in
1714; secondly, by the dreadful coruscation in the air this present
year; and, thirdly, by the nine comets seen at once over Soho-square, by
Mrs. Katherine Wadlington, and others: a contagion that first crept in
among the first quality, descended to their footmen, and infused itself
into their ladies--I mean the woeful practice of PUNNING. This does
occasion the corruption of our language, and therein of the word of God
translated into our language, which certainly every sober Christian must
tremble at.
Now such is the enormity of this abomination, that our very nobles not
only commit punning over tea, and in taverns, but even on the Lord's
day, and in the king's chapel: therefore, to deter men from this evil
practice, I shall give some true and dreadful examples of God's revenge
against punsters.
The Right Honourable----(but it is not safe to insert the name of an
eminent nobleman in this paper, yet I will venture to say that such a
one has been _seen_; which is all we can say, considering the largeness
of his sleeves)--This young nobleman was not only a flagitious punster
himself, but was accessary to the punning of others, by consent, by
provocation, by connivance, and by defence of the evil committed; for
which the Lord mercifully spared his neck, but as a mark of reprobation
_wryed his nose_.
Another nobleman of great hopes, no less guilty of the same crime, was
made the punisher of himself with his own hand, in the loss of 500
pounds at box and dice; whereby this unfortunate young gentleman
incurred the heavy displeasure of his aged grandmother.
A third of no less illustrious extraction, for the same vice, was
permitted to fall into the arms of a _Dalilah_, who may one day cut off
his curious hair, and deliver him up to the _Philistines_.
Colonel F----, an ancient gentleman of grave deportment, gave into this
sin so early in his youth, that whenever his tongue endeavours to speak
common sense, he hesitates so as not to be understood.
Thomas Pickle, gentleman, for the same crime, banished to Minorca.
Muley Hamet, from a wealthy and hopeful officer in the army, turned a
miserable invalid at Tilbury-Fort.
---- Eustace, Esq. for the murder of much of the King's English in
Ireland, is quite deprived of his reason, and now remains a lively
instance of emptiness and vivacity.
Poor Daniel Button, for the same offence, deprived of his wits.
One Samuel, an Irishman, for his forward attempt to pun, was stunted in
his stature, and hath been visited all his life after with bulls and
blunders.
George Simmons, shoemaker at Turnstile in Holborn, was so given to this
custom, and did it with so much success, that his neighbours gave out he
was a wit. Which report coming among his creditors, nobody would trust
him; so that he is now a bankrupt, and his family in a miserable
condition.
Divers eminent clergymen of the university of Cambridge, for having
propagated this vice, became great drunkards and Tories.
_From which calamities, the Lord in his mercy defend us all_, &c. &c.
THE BIRTH OF A PUN[18].
When Adam and Eve, as the saints all believe,
From the garden of Eden were driven;
They put up a prayer to king Joe in his chair,
That a boon he would grant them from heaven.
'Twas in vain that old Jove 'gainst their petition strove,
Madame Juno determined to grapple
His arguments keen; said the thunderer's queen,
"Where's the sin, pray, of stealing an apple?
Send Momus, I beg, let him carry an egg,
To earth's now disconsolate son;
And bid Mistress Eve, that no longer she grieve,
For the gods have enclosed them a _Pun_."
Now downward the sprite on the earth did alight,
And cracking the shell on the floor,
Gave birth to a Pun, full of humour and fun,
And sadness they never knew more.
[18] ANTIQUITY OF PUNS AND ENIGMAS,
_By the learned Author of Hermes._
On the subject of puns the late learned author of Hermes and
Philological Inquiries has the following remarks and extracts:
A Pun seldom regards MEANING, being chiefly confined to SOUND.
Horace gives a sad example of this _spurious_ wit, where (as _Dryden_
humorously translates it) he makes _Persius_ the buffoon exhort the
patriot _Brutus_ to kill Mr. King, that is, _Rupilius Rex_, because
_Brutus_, when he slew _Cæsar_, had been accustomed to KING-KILLING.
_Hunc_ Regem _occide; operum
Hoc mihi crede tuorum est_.
We have a worse attempt in _Homer_, where _Ulysses_ makes _Polypheme_
believe his name was ΟΤΤΙΣ, and where the dull _Cyclops_, after
he had lost his eye, upon being asked by his brethren who had done so
much mischief, replies, 'twas done by ΟΤΤΙΣ, that is, by
NOBODY.
Enigmas are of a more complicated nature, being involved either in _pun_
or _metaphor_, or sometimes in both.
Ἁνδρ' ἑιδον ωυρἱ χαλκὁν ἑπ' ἁνἑρι κολλἡσαντα.
_I saw a man, who_, unprovoked with ire,
_Stuck brass upon another's back by fire_.
This Enigma is ingenious, and means the _operation of cupping_,
performed in ancient days by a machine of _brass_.
In such fancies, contrary to the principles of good _metaphor_ and good
writing, a _perplexity_ is caused, _not by accident_, but _by design_,
and _the pleasure_ lies in the being able _to resolve it_.
THE ENGLISH CELEBRATED FOR
PUNNING ON NAMES.
The English are noted for punning on people's names, in allusion to
their talent or profession.--Grimaldi was called, from his "grim faces,"
_Grim-all-day_; Macready, from his quick study, "_Make ready_;" Young,
from his youthful appearance, "the _young_ actor;" Kean, from his new
readings, "the _keen_ actor;" Sinclair, from his beautiful voice, "Mr.
_Sing clear_;" Miss Tree, the lovely vocalist, "_the Mystery_," &c. &c.
&c.: innumerable are the instances in the _political_ world, but _quant.
suff_. Perhaps one of the most laughable of the present day is the pun
upon Mr. Thomas Bish, the stockbroker's name; he was then at the head of
one of the most respectable tea-dealing establishments in London. His
friends sunk his Christian name, excepting the first letter, and
jocosely called him Mr. _Tea_ Bish: perhaps the joke was borrowed from
an epigram on Mr. Twining, the tea-dealer, viz.
"How curiously names with professions agree,
For Twining would be _wining_, dispossess'd of his T."
But we shall favour the reader with a few of the best modern examples.
OF PUNNING ON SURNAMES.
Men once were surnamed from their shape or estate,
(You all may from history worm it:)
There was Lewis the Bulky, and Henry the Great,
John Lackland, and Peter the Hermit.
But now, when the door-plates of misters and dames
Are read, each so constantly varies
From the owner's trade, figure, and calling, surnames
Seem given by the rule of contraries.
Mr. Fox, though provoked, never doubles his fist,
Mr. Burns in his grate has no fuel,
Mr. Playfair won't catch me at hazard or whist,
Mr. Coward was wing'd in a duel.
Mr. Wise is a dunce, Mr. King is a Whig,
Mr. Coffin's uncommonly sprightly,
And huge Mr. Little broke down in a gig
While driving fat Mrs. Golightly.
Mrs. Drinkwater's apt to indulge in a dram,
Mrs. Angel's an absolute fury,
And meek Mr. Lyon let fierce Mr. Lamb
Tweak his nose in the lobby of Drury.
At Bath, where the feeble go more than the stout,
(A conduct well worthy of Nero,)
Over poor Mr. Lightfoot, confined with the gout,
Mr. Heaviside danced a Bolero.
Miss Joy, wretched maid, when she chose Mr. Love,
Found nothing but sorrow await her:
She now holds in wedlock, as true as a dove,
That fondest of mates, Mr. Hayter.
Mr. Oldcastle dwells in a modern-built hut,
Miss Sage is of madcaps the archest;
Of all the queer bachelors Cupid e'er cut,
Old Mr. Younghusband's the starchest.
Mr. Child, in a passion, knock'd down Mr. Rock,
Mr. Stone like an aspen-leaf shivers,
Miss Poole used to dance, but she stands like a stock
Ever since she became Mrs. Rivers.
Mr. Swift hobbles onward, no mortal knows how,
He moves as though cords had entwined him;
Mr. Metcalfe ran off, upon meeting a cow,
With pale Mr. Turnbull behind him.
Mr. Barker's as mute as a fish in the sea,
Mr. Miles never moves on a journey,
Mr. Gotobed sits up till half-after-three,
Mr. Makepiece was bred an attorney.
Mr. Gardner can't tell a flower from a root,
Mr. Wilde with timidity draws back;
Mr. Ryder performs all his journeys on foot,
Mr. Foote all his journeys on horseback.
Mr. Penny, whose father was rolling in wealth,
Kick'd down all the fortune his dad won,
Large Mr. Le Fever's the picture of health,
Mr. Goodenough is but a bad one.
Mr. Cruickshank stept into three thousand a-year
By showing his leg to an heiress:--
Now I hope you'll acknowledge I've made it quite clear
Surnames ever go by contraries.
_New Monthly Magazine._
AN EPITAPH,
OR
PUNNING RUN MAD.