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 |  |
Thus with solemn face he spoke, And we will guess, by way of joke
What to himself Old Vellum said, As the sly, secret hints of trade.
Deep thought two forehead wrinkles prov'd,
But neither tongue nor lips were mov'd,
While to his interest never blind,
These hints were whisper'd to his mind:
“Sermons by him!—O quite the thing,
To publish in the ensuing spring!
They will I'm sure be all the fashion,
And read, perhaps, by half the nation.
For Sermons, as the taste prevails, Are read as eagerly as tales,
And if the preacher has renown No works more popular are known.
I'll try to-morrow ere we dine To fix the copy-right as mine.”
But still he thought: “Why need I stay,
To strike this stroke, another day!
Another day? No, No—I vow I'll strive to make the bargain now.”
Thus these dumb hopes acquired strength,
So that he let them speak at length,
But in a calm and measur'd tone:—
“—These Sermons, Doctor, I must own
I rather wish”—“My honest friend,”
Syntax exclaim'd, “I must attend
To other matters which, 'tis known,
Have caus'd my pilgrimage to town;
And it will be a week or two Before I can attend to you:
But sure I am—it cannot be That we should ever disagree.”
Vellum, well pleas'd that he had made
Some progress in the way of trade,
Which, as he plann'd it, would repay
All his shrewd sense could do or say,
His sly enquiries now repress'd, And hush'd his wary zeal to rest:
Thus, having smok'd a pipe or two In social mood, he bade adieu.
Syntax, who had not liv'd so long
Without that sense of right and wrong,
Which Observation's known to give To those who think as well as live,
Felt Vellum's use—but then he knew
That int'rest must be kept in view;
That this same money-scraping sinner
Would ne'er be lur'd to give a dinner,
Nor would his spirit e'er incline To ask a Letter'd Man to dine,
Or bow, or smile, or send his wine,
Unless he thought by way of trade,
His kindness would be well repaid.
He therefore kept 'neath lock and key These Volumes of Divinity;
And did his distant promise make, To keep curmudgeon zeal awake.
—Thus it appears the day was pass'd,
And night's calm hour arriv'd at last;
For, Vellum and the Laundress gone, The Doctor now was left alone;
As Pat took up his night's abode
Where Punch with her companion stood,
And moisten'd many a Dublin tale
With the rich draughts of London ale.
But Syntax, ere he went to rest, Ponder'd on what might be the best,
What it became him now to do, And which the way he should pursue.
“Can I,” he calmly said, “do better,
Than send my Lady Macnight's letter?
And thus fair Mrs. Briskit see With all her wild vivacity
Nor fear to risk what she may do With all her fun and frolic too.”
Thus, the next morn, a formal note He with all due politeness wrote,
To let her know what joy 'twould give him,
Did she but say she would receive him.
“—This evening Madcap is at home,”
The answer said, “so prithee come.”—
“How,” she exclaim'd “shall I enjoy,
The visit of this Rev'rend Boy!
I shall be in my highest sphere, When the Quixotic Parson's here!”
No sooner was it said than done,
And thus commenc'd the scheme of fun.
All in due time a stout house-maid Was like the lady's self array'd;
The pendants dangle from her ears,
The plumage o'er her brow appears;
The ostrich spoils, so green, so red,
Bent graceful from her auburn head,
While all that pucker'd silk could show
Appear'd in flounce and fur below,
And muslin's broider'd folds display'd The pow'rs of millinery aid.
The Reticule grac'd one rude hand, The other did a fan command;
But Molly, in this tonish dress Was the sublime of awkwardness.
While she, indeed, or sat or stood, All motionless as log of wood,
She look'd like wholesome flesh and blood;
But when she mov'd and when she spoke,
Then was to come the promis'd joke,
As Syntax, by the trick betray'd Would for the mistress take the maid,
And let forth many a classic speech,
Which pedant gallantry might teach;
While Madam, from some cushion'd height,
Nor seen, nor yet quite out of sight,
Could from behind a curtain's sweep With silent caution take a peep,
At the cross-purposes display'd 'Tween Syntax and the lady-maid:
But when the parley awkward grew She might at once appear to view,
And in brisk measure rush between To give new spirit to the scene.
Such was the plan this lively dame
Had laid to form the evening's game,
And in due course the evening came.
What to himself Old Vellum said, As the sly, secret hints of trade.
Deep thought two forehead wrinkles prov'd,
But neither tongue nor lips were mov'd,
While to his interest never blind,
These hints were whisper'd to his mind:
“Sermons by him!—O quite the thing,
To publish in the ensuing spring!
They will I'm sure be all the fashion,
And read, perhaps, by half the nation.
For Sermons, as the taste prevails, Are read as eagerly as tales,
And if the preacher has renown No works more popular are known.
I'll try to-morrow ere we dine To fix the copy-right as mine.”
But still he thought: “Why need I stay,
To strike this stroke, another day!
340
Thus these dumb hopes acquired strength,
So that he let them speak at length,
But in a calm and measur'd tone:—
“—These Sermons, Doctor, I must own
I rather wish”—“My honest friend,”
Syntax exclaim'd, “I must attend
To other matters which, 'tis known,
Have caus'd my pilgrimage to town;
And it will be a week or two Before I can attend to you:
But sure I am—it cannot be That we should ever disagree.”
Vellum, well pleas'd that he had made
Some progress in the way of trade,
Which, as he plann'd it, would repay
All his shrewd sense could do or say,
His sly enquiries now repress'd, And hush'd his wary zeal to rest:
Thus, having smok'd a pipe or two In social mood, he bade adieu.
Syntax, who had not liv'd so long
Without that sense of right and wrong,
Which Observation's known to give To those who think as well as live,
Felt Vellum's use—but then he knew
That int'rest must be kept in view;
That this same money-scraping sinner
Would ne'er be lur'd to give a dinner,
Nor would his spirit e'er incline To ask a Letter'd Man to dine,
Or bow, or smile, or send his wine,
Unless he thought by way of trade,
His kindness would be well repaid.
He therefore kept 'neath lock and key These Volumes of Divinity;
And did his distant promise make, To keep curmudgeon zeal awake.
—Thus it appears the day was pass'd,
And night's calm hour arriv'd at last;
For, Vellum and the Laundress gone, The Doctor now was left alone;
As Pat took up his night's abode
Where Punch with her companion stood,
And moisten'd many a Dublin tale
With the rich draughts of London ale.
But Syntax, ere he went to rest, Ponder'd on what might be the best,
What it became him now to do, And which the way he should pursue.
“Can I,” he calmly said, “do better,
Than send my Lady Macnight's letter?
And thus fair Mrs. Briskit see With all her wild vivacity
Nor fear to risk what she may do With all her fun and frolic too.”
Thus, the next morn, a formal note He with all due politeness wrote,
To let her know what joy 'twould give him,
Did she but say she would receive him.
“—This evening Madcap is at home,”
The answer said, “so prithee come.”—
“How,” she exclaim'd “shall I enjoy,
The visit of this Rev'rend Boy!
I shall be in my highest sphere, When the Quixotic Parson's here!”
341
And thus commenc'd the scheme of fun.
All in due time a stout house-maid Was like the lady's self array'd;
The pendants dangle from her ears,
The plumage o'er her brow appears;
The ostrich spoils, so green, so red,
Bent graceful from her auburn head,
While all that pucker'd silk could show
Appear'd in flounce and fur below,
And muslin's broider'd folds display'd The pow'rs of millinery aid.
The Reticule grac'd one rude hand, The other did a fan command;
But Molly, in this tonish dress Was the sublime of awkwardness.
While she, indeed, or sat or stood, All motionless as log of wood,
She look'd like wholesome flesh and blood;
But when she mov'd and when she spoke,
Then was to come the promis'd joke,
As Syntax, by the trick betray'd Would for the mistress take the maid,
And let forth many a classic speech,
Which pedant gallantry might teach;
While Madam, from some cushion'd height,
Nor seen, nor yet quite out of sight,
Could from behind a curtain's sweep With silent caution take a peep,
At the cross-purposes display'd 'Tween Syntax and the lady-maid:
But when the parley awkward grew She might at once appear to view,
And in brisk measure rush between To give new spirit to the scene.
Such was the plan this lively dame
Had laid to form the evening's game,
And in due course the evening came.
| The three tours of Doctor Syntax | |