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 |  |
“Nay, now I think, that I know one, Our friend the widow Omicron,
Who may, if I conjecture right, Give to your life a new delight.
She's known for that superior knowledge,
Which would do honour to a college:
Nay in a college she was bred, Of which her father was the Head:
By a learn'd Dean she then was lov'd,
Who a fond, short-liv'd husband prov'd;
But left her, as she haply found,
His books with twice six thousand pound;
And, as her fortune I review, Her house and household chattels too:
By letter I will recommend The Doctor to this female friend.
—Think not my sage that I am prating,
Ovid's Epistles she's translating;
And that pursuit may seem to prove The Lady somehow thinks of love.
Attack her, win her, wear her then, And give new life to Sommerden!”
Thus did the lengthen'd evening pass,
Enliven'd by the cheerful glass:
But, as the Sage retir'd to rest, Fair Lucy's silent charms possest
The fine warm feelings of his breast.
Whether th'inspired Doctor thought Exactly as a Doctor ought,
Or whether fancy 'gan to play, It is not for the Muse to say;
But Pat declares his Master said, As he was stepping into bed,
“If but that loit'ring fellow Death,
Would just now stop Sir Stately's breath,
And set the charming woman free, I'd ask her if she'd marry me.
No, never would I make a stir To rule the house and govern her,
But should rejoice, throughout my life, To yield me up to such a wife;
A crowing cock I should be then, Though daily peck'd by such a hen.”
Thinking on her he heav'd a sigh In sad and pitying sympathy;
And seem'd as if about to weep, Had he not fallen fast asleep.
Who may, if I conjecture right, Give to your life a new delight.
She's known for that superior knowledge,
Which would do honour to a college:
Nay in a college she was bred, Of which her father was the Head:
By a learn'd Dean she then was lov'd,
Who a fond, short-liv'd husband prov'd;
But left her, as she haply found,
His books with twice six thousand pound;
And, as her fortune I review, Her house and household chattels too:
By letter I will recommend The Doctor to this female friend.
—Think not my sage that I am prating,
Ovid's Epistles she's translating;
And that pursuit may seem to prove The Lady somehow thinks of love.
Attack her, win her, wear her then, And give new life to Sommerden!”
Thus did the lengthen'd evening pass,
Enliven'd by the cheerful glass:
But, as the Sage retir'd to rest, Fair Lucy's silent charms possest
The fine warm feelings of his breast.
Whether th'inspired Doctor thought Exactly as a Doctor ought,
Or whether fancy 'gan to play, It is not for the Muse to say;
But Pat declares his Master said, As he was stepping into bed,
“If but that loit'ring fellow Death,
Would just now stop Sir Stately's breath,
And set the charming woman free, I'd ask her if she'd marry me.
No, never would I make a stir To rule the house and govern her,
But should rejoice, throughout my life, To yield me up to such a wife;
A crowing cock I should be then, Though daily peck'd by such a hen.”
Thinking on her he heav'd a sigh In sad and pitying sympathy;
And seem'd as if about to weep, Had he not fallen fast asleep.
| The three tours of Doctor Syntax | |