But after all, give me leave to lament, that I cannot have the honour of 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
A presbyterian preacher of the last age chose to exemplify the Golden Rule, by dissecting the name of the great enemy of mankind: 'Take away D, and it is Evil , take away the E, and it is Vile , take away the V, and it is Ill Ill, Vile, Evil, Devil .'
The story here alluded to is told in a pamphlet, entitled, 'A modest Apology for Parson Alberoni, Governor to King Philip, a Minor, and universal Curate of the whole Spanish Monarchy, &c. by Thomas Gordon, Esq. 1719,' and is as follows: 'There is, in a certain diocese in this nation, a living worth about six hundred pounds a-year. This, and two or three more preferments, maintain the doctor in becoming ease and corpulency. He keeps a chariot in town, and a journeyman in the country; his curate and his coach-horses are his equal drudges, saving that the four-legged cattle are better fed, and have sleeker cassocks, than his spiritual dray-horse. The doctor goes down once a-year, to shear his flock and fill his pockets, or, in other words, to receive the wages of his embassy; and then, sometimes in an afternoon, if his belly do not happen to be too full, he vouchsafes to mount the pulpit, and to instruct his people in the greatness of his character and dullness. This composes the whole parish to rest; but the doctor one day denouncing himself the Lord's Ambassador with greater fire and loudness than could have been reasonably expected from him, it roused a clown of the congregation, who waked his next neighbour with, 'Dost hear, Tom, dost hear?' 'Ay,' says Tom, yawning, 'what does he say?' 'Say?' answered the other, 'he says a plaguy lie, to be sure; he says as how he is my Lord's Humbassandor , but I think he is more rather the Lord's Receiver-General, for he never comes but to take money.' Six hundred pounds a-year is, modestly speaking, a competent fee for lulling the largest congregation in England asleep once in a twelvemonth. Such tithes are the price of napping; and such mighty odds are there between a curtain lecture and a cushion lecture.' See the collection of Tracts by Gordon and Trenchard, vol. i. p. 130.
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 Polycarpus , Polyeopros . 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
Mirandi novitate movebere mostri. Ovid.
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,
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.
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,
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.