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 |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
 | The three tours of Doctor Syntax |  |
“Yes, home is home, where'er it be, Or shaded by the village-tree,
Or where the lofty domes arise To catch the passing stranger's eyes.”
'Twas thus he thought, when, at the gate
He saw his Doll impatient wait;
Nor as he pass'd the street along, Was he unnotic'd by the throng;
For not a head within a shop But did through door or widow pop.
He kiss'd his Dame, and gravely spoke As now he brooded o'er a joke;
While she to know impatient burn'd With how much money he return'd.
“Give me my pipe,” he said, “and ale,
And in due time you'll hear the tale.”
He sat him down his pipe to smoke,
Look'd sad, and not a word he spoke;
But Madam soon her speech began, And in discordant tones it ran.
“I think, by that confounded look,
You have not writ your boasted book;
Yes, all your money you have spent,
And come back poorer than you went:
Yes, you have wander'd far from home, And here a beggar you are come:
But bills from all sides are in waiting, To give your Reverence a baiting;
I do not mean to scold and rail; But I'll not live with you in jail.
So long a time you've staid away, That the Town-Curate you must pay,
For, while from home you play'd the fool,
He kindly came to teach the school;
And a few welcome pounds to earn
By flogging boys to make them learn:
But I must say you silly elf, You merit to be flogged yourself;
And I've a mind this whip shall crack Upon your raw-bon'd lazy back.
Yes, puff away—but 'tis no joke For all my schemes to end in smoke.
What, tongue-ty'd booby! will you say
To Mrs. Dress'em?—Who will pay
Her bills for these nice clothes?—Why zounds!
It borders upon twenty pounds.”
Or where the lofty domes arise To catch the passing stranger's eyes.”
'Twas thus he thought, when, at the gate
He saw his Doll impatient wait;
Nor as he pass'd the street along, Was he unnotic'd by the throng;
For not a head within a shop But did through door or widow pop.
He kiss'd his Dame, and gravely spoke As now he brooded o'er a joke;
While she to know impatient burn'd With how much money he return'd.
“Give me my pipe,” he said, “and ale,
And in due time you'll hear the tale.”
He sat him down his pipe to smoke,
Look'd sad, and not a word he spoke;
But Madam soon her speech began, And in discordant tones it ran.
“I think, by that confounded look,
You have not writ your boasted book;
Yes, all your money you have spent,
And come back poorer than you went:
Yes, you have wander'd far from home, And here a beggar you are come:
But bills from all sides are in waiting, To give your Reverence a baiting;
I do not mean to scold and rail; But I'll not live with you in jail.
So long a time you've staid away, That the Town-Curate you must pay,
For, while from home you play'd the fool,
He kindly came to teach the school;
And a few welcome pounds to earn
By flogging boys to make them learn:
But I must say you silly elf, You merit to be flogged yourself;
And I've a mind this whip shall crack Upon your raw-bon'd lazy back.
Yes, puff away—but 'tis no joke For all my schemes to end in smoke.
What, tongue-ty'd booby! will you say
To Mrs. Dress'em?—Who will pay
Her bills for these nice clothes?—Why zounds!
It borders upon twenty pounds.”
| The three tours of Doctor Syntax | |