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 |
 |
 | The three tours of Doctor Syntax |  |
“I owe unto your Lordship's name My future gains in gold and fame.
My uncomb'd wig,—my suit of black,
Which had grown rusty on my back,
My grizly visage, pale and thin,
My carcass, nought but bones and skin,
Presented to the Tradesman's eye The ghastly form of Poverty:
Nor would he deign to cast a look Upon the pages of my book;
But, with the fierceness of Turk, In sorry terms revil'd my work;
And let loose all his purse-proud spleen
Against a thing he ne'er had seen:
But your kind note, where it was said, That all expenses should be paid,
New-dy'd my coat, new-cock'd my hat,
Powder'd my wig, and made me fat.
His eye now saw me plump and sleek, With not a wrinkle in my cheek;
And strength, and stateliness, and vigour,
Completed my important figure;
While, in my pocket, his keen look
Glanc'd at your Lordship's pocket-book.
'Twas now—‘I'm sure the work will sell,
And pay the learned author well:’
Then grac'd his shrill and sputt'ring speeches
With pulling up his monstrous breeches;
And made me all the humblest bows His vast protuberance allows:
For had he come with purse in hand,
E'en Satan might his press command;
So that the book had not a flaw To risk the dangers of the law.
Prove but his gains—and he'd be civil, Or to the Doctor or the Devil.”
Thus Syntax and his patron sat, And thus prolong'd the ev'ning chat.
My uncomb'd wig,—my suit of black,
Which had grown rusty on my back,
My grizly visage, pale and thin,
My carcass, nought but bones and skin,
Presented to the Tradesman's eye The ghastly form of Poverty:
Nor would he deign to cast a look Upon the pages of my book;
94
And let loose all his purse-proud spleen
Against a thing he ne'er had seen:
But your kind note, where it was said, That all expenses should be paid,
New-dy'd my coat, new-cock'd my hat,
Powder'd my wig, and made me fat.
His eye now saw me plump and sleek, With not a wrinkle in my cheek;
And strength, and stateliness, and vigour,
Completed my important figure;
While, in my pocket, his keen look
Glanc'd at your Lordship's pocket-book.
'Twas now—‘I'm sure the work will sell,
And pay the learned author well:’
Then grac'd his shrill and sputt'ring speeches
With pulling up his monstrous breeches;
And made me all the humblest bows His vast protuberance allows:
For had he come with purse in hand,
E'en Satan might his press command;
So that the book had not a flaw To risk the dangers of the law.
Prove but his gains—and he'd be civil, Or to the Doctor or the Devil.”
Thus Syntax and his patron sat, And thus prolong'd the ev'ning chat.
| The three tours of Doctor Syntax | |