The three tours of Doctor Syntax In search of 1. The picturesque, 2. Of consolation, 3. Of a wife. The text complete. [By William Combe] With four illustrations |
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 | The three tours of Doctor Syntax |  |
Syntax.—
“It is an animal I hate; Its very sight I execrate:
A viper I would rather see, Than one of this dire family.
That they suck eggs I may allow,
That they munch grain we all must know;
But I ne'er heard, I do declare, That these same vermin feed on hair.”
Pat.—
“No, no, your Rev'rence, Old Nick rate 'em,
They suck the oil and the pomatum;
And when in scrambling they grew louder,
O, they were fighting for the powder.
But still 'tis shocking, past enduring,
For the wig's maim'd beyond all curing.
—If they could have but eat the brains
Once cover'd by these sad remains,
And by a miracle been taught Just to employ them as they ought:
I know full well, Sir, what I mean,
Yes, yes, 'tis true, they would have been
The wisest rats, however droll, That ever crept into a hole.”
Syntax.—
“I thank you Pat, as I can spare This lot of artificial hair,
But for my brains, no rats shall taste 'em,
They shall remain where nature plac'd 'em.
But tell me, Landlord, does your town A skilful Peruke-maker own,
Who can this Caxon dire restore To the same form it had before.”
Landlord.—
“O yes, what can be done by art,
Dick Razor's knowledge will impart:
A clever hand as you have seen And who in London oft has been.
At certain seasons of the year Our 'Squires hold a Sessions here,
And then he doth display his trade By combing ev'ry Lawyer's head:
I doubt not, Sir, that to a hair, He will your mangled wig repair.”
Dick Razor came, the Peruke saw,
Rais'd up his eyes, hung down his jaw;
And said at once—“whoever wore it, No art of man can e'er restore it;
But I've a wig, I know will do, Which, Sir, within an hour or two,
I'll trick and furbish up for you.
—It was a counsellor's, a tie, That did a solemn air supply,
When he let loose his hackneyed tongue
To prove wrong right, and rightful wrong.
But if that wig which deck'd his brain
Could speak and with clear words explain
How many lies came from that head
Which its fine flowing curls o'erspread,
I do believe, nay, I could swear, There'd be a lie for ev'ry hair.
Before,—the curls are well confin'd, The tails fall gracefully behind;
While a full wilderness of friz Became the Lawyer's cunning phiz.
—'Tis true, for upwards of a year I dress'd his wig and shav'd him here;
But though he ne'er forgot his fee, He walk'd off without paying me.
Three years and more are past and gone
Since the voracious bird has flown;
And no harm's done to this said elf, To sell his wig and pay myself.
The wig is good,—in London made—
Work'd up by one who knew his trade:
Cut off its tails and when 'tis shewn,
You'll scarcely know it from your own.”
Syntax.—
“I've heard enough, my honest friend,
And as I seek my journey's end,
I wish you to your shop would walk, I want my wig and not your talk.
Go with the Tonsor, Pat, and try To aid his hand, and guide his eye.”
They left the room, and straight the News
Was brought the Doctor to peruse.—
With night-cap grac'd, he sat him down,
To see how this world waddled on.
The fragrant tea his thirst supplied, The triple toast was not denied;
And as he drank, and as he eat, Big with the comforts of the treat,
The night and all its horrid plot, The Wig, the Vermin were forgot:
For, while he did his beverage quaff,
He conn'd each various paragraph;
And as he did the columns scan, Review'd the Epitome of Man:
Nay, as he ran the pages o'er, He made his flight from shore to shore:
The North, the South, the East, the West,
Were on his busy mind imprest:
The striking images of things Were borne along on fancy's wings;
And, with a glowing ardour fraught,
He thus proclaim'd each rising thought:
“It is an animal I hate; Its very sight I execrate:
A viper I would rather see, Than one of this dire family.
That they suck eggs I may allow,
That they munch grain we all must know;
But I ne'er heard, I do declare, That these same vermin feed on hair.”
Pat.—
“No, no, your Rev'rence, Old Nick rate 'em,
They suck the oil and the pomatum;
And when in scrambling they grew louder,
O, they were fighting for the powder.
But still 'tis shocking, past enduring,
For the wig's maim'd beyond all curing.
—If they could have but eat the brains
Once cover'd by these sad remains,
And by a miracle been taught Just to employ them as they ought:
I know full well, Sir, what I mean,
Yes, yes, 'tis true, they would have been
The wisest rats, however droll, That ever crept into a hole.”
Syntax.—
“I thank you Pat, as I can spare This lot of artificial hair,
But for my brains, no rats shall taste 'em,
They shall remain where nature plac'd 'em.
But tell me, Landlord, does your town A skilful Peruke-maker own,
Who can this Caxon dire restore To the same form it had before.”
Landlord.—
“O yes, what can be done by art,
Dick Razor's knowledge will impart:
A clever hand as you have seen And who in London oft has been.
At certain seasons of the year Our 'Squires hold a Sessions here,
And then he doth display his trade By combing ev'ry Lawyer's head:
I doubt not, Sir, that to a hair, He will your mangled wig repair.”
Dick Razor came, the Peruke saw,
Rais'd up his eyes, hung down his jaw;
And said at once—“whoever wore it, No art of man can e'er restore it;
But I've a wig, I know will do, Which, Sir, within an hour or two,
I'll trick and furbish up for you.
—It was a counsellor's, a tie, That did a solemn air supply,
When he let loose his hackneyed tongue
To prove wrong right, and rightful wrong.
But if that wig which deck'd his brain
Could speak and with clear words explain
How many lies came from that head
Which its fine flowing curls o'erspread,
I do believe, nay, I could swear, There'd be a lie for ev'ry hair.
Before,—the curls are well confin'd, The tails fall gracefully behind;
While a full wilderness of friz Became the Lawyer's cunning phiz.
—'Tis true, for upwards of a year I dress'd his wig and shav'd him here;
But though he ne'er forgot his fee, He walk'd off without paying me.
Three years and more are past and gone
Since the voracious bird has flown;
And no harm's done to this said elf, To sell his wig and pay myself.
173
Work'd up by one who knew his trade:
Cut off its tails and when 'tis shewn,
You'll scarcely know it from your own.”
Syntax.—
“I've heard enough, my honest friend,
And as I seek my journey's end,
I wish you to your shop would walk, I want my wig and not your talk.
Go with the Tonsor, Pat, and try To aid his hand, and guide his eye.”
They left the room, and straight the News
Was brought the Doctor to peruse.—
With night-cap grac'd, he sat him down,
To see how this world waddled on.
The fragrant tea his thirst supplied, The triple toast was not denied;
And as he drank, and as he eat, Big with the comforts of the treat,
The night and all its horrid plot, The Wig, the Vermin were forgot:
For, while he did his beverage quaff,
He conn'd each various paragraph;
And as he did the columns scan, Review'd the Epitome of Man:
Nay, as he ran the pages o'er, He made his flight from shore to shore:
The North, the South, the East, the West,
Were on his busy mind imprest:
The striking images of things Were borne along on fancy's wings;
And, with a glowing ardour fraught,
He thus proclaim'd each rising thought:
| The three tours of Doctor Syntax | |