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.—
“We both, my friend, pursue one trade;
I for the living, you the dead.
For whom that grave do you prepare
With such keen haste, and cheerful air?”
Sexton.—
“An' please your Rev'rence Lawyer Thrust,
Thank heav'n, will moulder here to dust:
Never before did I take measure Of any grave with half the pleasure:
And when within this hole he's laid,
I'll ram the earth down with my spade:
I'll take good care he shall not rise, Till summon'd to the last assize;
And, when he sues for Heaven's grace,
I would not wish to take his place.
He once on cruel deed intent, Seiz'd on my goods for want of rent;
Nay, I declare, as I'm a sinner, He took away the children's dinner:
For, as they sat around the table, Eating as fast as they were able,
He seiz'd the dishes, great and small,
The children's bread and milk, and all!
The urchins cried, the mother pray'd,
I begg'd his rigour might be stay'd
Till I could on our Parson call, Who would engage to pay it all;
But he disdain'd a Parson's word,
And mock'd the suit which I preferr'd.
He knew a better way to thrive; To pay two pounds by taking five.
Bursting with rage, I knock'd him down,
And broke the cruel rascal's crown;
For which in county-gaol I lay, Half-starving, many a bitter day;
But our good Parson brought relief,
And kindly sooth'd a mother's grief.
He, while in prison I remain'd, My little family sustain'd;
And when I was from durance free, Made me his Sexton, as you see.
But Doctor Worthy, he is gone; You'll read his virtues on the stone
That's plac'd aloft upon the wall, Where you may see the ivy crawl:
Oh while his ashes rest below, He's gone where all the righteous go.
I dug his grave with many a moan, And almost wish'd it were my own.
I daily view the earthly bed, Where Death has laid his rev'rend head;
And when I see a weed appear, I pluck it up, and shed a tear.
The parish griev'd, for not an eye In all its large extent was dry,
Save one:—but such a kindly grace
Ne'er deck'd the Lawyer's iron face.
The aged wept a friend long known, The young a parent's loss bemoan:
While we alas! shall long deplore The bounteous patron of the poor.”
“We both, my friend, pursue one trade;
I for the living, you the dead.
For whom that grave do you prepare
With such keen haste, and cheerful air?”
Sexton.—
“An' please your Rev'rence Lawyer Thrust,
Thank heav'n, will moulder here to dust:
Never before did I take measure Of any grave with half the pleasure:
And when within this hole he's laid,
I'll ram the earth down with my spade:
I'll take good care he shall not rise, Till summon'd to the last assize;
And, when he sues for Heaven's grace,
I would not wish to take his place.
He once on cruel deed intent, Seiz'd on my goods for want of rent;
Nay, I declare, as I'm a sinner, He took away the children's dinner:
For, as they sat around the table, Eating as fast as they were able,
He seiz'd the dishes, great and small,
The children's bread and milk, and all!
The urchins cried, the mother pray'd,
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Till I could on our Parson call, Who would engage to pay it all;
But he disdain'd a Parson's word,
And mock'd the suit which I preferr'd.
He knew a better way to thrive; To pay two pounds by taking five.
Bursting with rage, I knock'd him down,
And broke the cruel rascal's crown;
For which in county-gaol I lay, Half-starving, many a bitter day;
But our good Parson brought relief,
And kindly sooth'd a mother's grief.
He, while in prison I remain'd, My little family sustain'd;
And when I was from durance free, Made me his Sexton, as you see.
But Doctor Worthy, he is gone; You'll read his virtues on the stone
That's plac'd aloft upon the wall, Where you may see the ivy crawl:
Oh while his ashes rest below, He's gone where all the righteous go.
I dug his grave with many a moan, And almost wish'd it were my own.
I daily view the earthly bed, Where Death has laid his rev'rend head;
And when I see a weed appear, I pluck it up, and shed a tear.
The parish griev'd, for not an eye In all its large extent was dry,
Save one:—but such a kindly grace
Ne'er deck'd the Lawyer's iron face.
The aged wept a friend long known, The young a parent's loss bemoan:
While we alas! shall long deplore The bounteous patron of the poor.”
| The three tours of Doctor Syntax | |