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 |  |
“Well, now” said Syntax, “I'll e'en go And visit Pater-noster-Row,
Vellum I trust will much rejoice
To hear once more my well-known voice.”
He went, and as St. Paul's struck three, His appetite rejoic'd to see
The print and paper-selling sinner Preparing for a plenteous dinner.
—After much warm and friendly greeting
At this so unexpected meeting,
When the good Doctor's hungry zeal Was settled by a hearty meal,
While a full pint of wine at least, Had given spirits to the feast,
Vellum his curious talk began, To dip into the Doctor's plan,
And by his shrewd discourse discover
What just now made him such a rover.
“—You cannot have been long in town,
Or some Muse with the news had flown
And have contriv'd to let us know The pleasing tidings in the Row:
For you, no doubt Sir, must have brought
Some work with taste and learning fraught,
Something of bold and new design, Dug from the never-failing mine
That's work'd within your fertile brain,
Where all is cut and come again;
And much I hope you will command My practis'd and obstetric hand,
And chuse me, as my skill you know, Among the midwives of the Row,
To bring it forth, with your fair name, To a long, future life of fame.”
A smile now seem'd to give assent,
And Vellum's visage beam'd content:
But when he from the Doctor heard
What street and place he had preferr'd,
And that he was thus lodg'd alone In a snug house in Mary-bonne,
He thought without a smile or joke
He should speak out—and thus he spoke.
“Where'er you are there must be good,
Whate'er may be the neighbourhood;
But, 'tis a region, let me say, Where, you, Sir, will not wish to stay,
Though I do not presume to measure
Either your fancy or your pleasure:
But should you wish to quit the place,
Which possibly may be the case,
I have a friend who has left town For sev'ral months and who does own
Nice chambers in an Inn of Court, Where sages of the Law resort;
And he has left, as you may see, The entire care of them to me,
Furnish'd with all accommodation
That well may suit your rev'rend station;
And where you may employ your pen, As quiet as at Sommerden,
With a neat laundress to attend you,
To whose good care I should commend you.”
Said Syntax, “In a day or two, I'll ask another interview,
And then the subject we'll renew.”
—The hasty evening pass'd away On gen'ral topics of the day;
How learning sped was not neglected,
And authors of all kinds dissected;
'Till the departing hour was come, And Syntax sought his novel home.
To the opening door there came
The old, fat, grinning, prating dame,
Who begg'd that he would take a chair
In her boudoir, and seat him there:
Smart, well-dress'd, giggling Misses three,
Compos'd the old lady's company.
“These, I presume, these charming fair,”
He said, “are your maternal care?”
“These are my chicks,” the dame replied,
“At once my profit and my pride,
Some folks have talk'd about their beauty,
But this I know, they do their duty,
And e'en if scandal dare to flout 'em,
I'm sure I could not do without 'em.”
But with his day's fatigue oppress'd, Syntax begg'd leave to go to rest.
“Laura,” she said, I “prithee come, And light the Doctor to his room.”
She rose and as she squeez'd his arm
He calmly smil'd, but thought no harm;
He took it in the kindest sense, And thought it frolic innocence;
Bore, from her hand the blazing light,
Then bade God bless her and good night.
Vellum I trust will much rejoice
To hear once more my well-known voice.”
He went, and as St. Paul's struck three, His appetite rejoic'd to see
335
—After much warm and friendly greeting
At this so unexpected meeting,
When the good Doctor's hungry zeal Was settled by a hearty meal,
While a full pint of wine at least, Had given spirits to the feast,
Vellum his curious talk began, To dip into the Doctor's plan,
And by his shrewd discourse discover
What just now made him such a rover.
“—You cannot have been long in town,
Or some Muse with the news had flown
And have contriv'd to let us know The pleasing tidings in the Row:
For you, no doubt Sir, must have brought
Some work with taste and learning fraught,
Something of bold and new design, Dug from the never-failing mine
That's work'd within your fertile brain,
Where all is cut and come again;
And much I hope you will command My practis'd and obstetric hand,
And chuse me, as my skill you know, Among the midwives of the Row,
To bring it forth, with your fair name, To a long, future life of fame.”
A smile now seem'd to give assent,
And Vellum's visage beam'd content:
But when he from the Doctor heard
What street and place he had preferr'd,
And that he was thus lodg'd alone In a snug house in Mary-bonne,
He thought without a smile or joke
He should speak out—and thus he spoke.
“Where'er you are there must be good,
Whate'er may be the neighbourhood;
But, 'tis a region, let me say, Where, you, Sir, will not wish to stay,
Though I do not presume to measure
Either your fancy or your pleasure:
But should you wish to quit the place,
Which possibly may be the case,
I have a friend who has left town For sev'ral months and who does own
Nice chambers in an Inn of Court, Where sages of the Law resort;
And he has left, as you may see, The entire care of them to me,
Furnish'd with all accommodation
That well may suit your rev'rend station;
And where you may employ your pen, As quiet as at Sommerden,
With a neat laundress to attend you,
To whose good care I should commend you.”
Said Syntax, “In a day or two, I'll ask another interview,
And then the subject we'll renew.”
—The hasty evening pass'd away On gen'ral topics of the day;
How learning sped was not neglected,
And authors of all kinds dissected;
'Till the departing hour was come, And Syntax sought his novel home.
To the opening door there came
The old, fat, grinning, prating dame,
Who begg'd that he would take a chair
In her boudoir, and seat him there:
336
Compos'd the old lady's company.
“These, I presume, these charming fair,”
He said, “are your maternal care?”
“These are my chicks,” the dame replied,
“At once my profit and my pride,
Some folks have talk'd about their beauty,
But this I know, they do their duty,
And e'en if scandal dare to flout 'em,
I'm sure I could not do without 'em.”
But with his day's fatigue oppress'd, Syntax begg'd leave to go to rest.
“Laura,” she said, I “prithee come, And light the Doctor to his room.”
She rose and as she squeez'd his arm
He calmly smil'd, but thought no harm;
He took it in the kindest sense, And thought it frolic innocence;
Bore, from her hand the blazing light,
Then bade God bless her and good night.
| The three tours of Doctor Syntax | |