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Gulliveriana

or, a fourth volume of miscellanies. Being a Sequel of the Three Volumes published by Pope and Swift. To which is added, Alexanderiana; or, A Comparison between the Ecclesiastical and Poetical Pope. And many Things, in Verse and Prose, relating to the latter. With an ample Preface; and a Critique on the Third Volume of Miscellanies lately publish'd by those two facetious Writers [by Jonathan Smedley]
 

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The Original of Punning, from Plato's Symposiacks.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The Original of Punning, from Plato's Symposiacks.

Once on a Time, in merry Mood,
Jove made a Pun of Flesh and Blood;
A double, two-fac'd living Creature,
Androgynos, of Two-fold Nature;
For Back to Back, with single Skin,
He bound the Male and Female in;
So much alike, so near the same,
They stuck as closely as their Name.
Whatever Words the Male exprest,
The Female turn'd them to a Jest;

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Whatever Words the Female spoke;
The Male converted to a Joke:
So, in this Form of Man and Wife,
They led a merry Punning Life.
The Gods from Heav'n descend to Earth,
Drawn down by their alluring Mirth;
So well they seem'd to like the Sport,
Jove cou'd not get them back to Court.
Th'Infernal Gods ascend as well,
Drawn up by magick Puns from Hell.
Judges and Furies quit their Post,
And not a Soul to mind a Ghost.
Hey day! says Jove; says Pluto too,
I think the Devil's here to do;
Here's Hell broke loose, and Heavn's quite empty,
We scarce have left one God in Twenty:
Pray, what has set them all a running?
Dear Brother, nothing else but Punning.
Behold that double Creature yonder,
Delights them with a double Entendre.

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Ods-fish, says Pluto, where's your Thunder,
Let drive, and split this Thing asunder.
That's right, quoth Jove; with that he threw
A Bolt, and split it into Two;
And when the Thing was split in Twain,
Why then it Punn'd as much again.
'Tis thus that Diamonds we refine,
The more we cut, the more they shine;
And ever since, your Men of Wit,
Until they're Cut, can't Pun a Bit.
So take a Starling when 'tis young,
And down the Middle slit the Tongue,
With Groat or Six-pence, 'tis no Matter,
You'll find the Bird will doubly chatter.
Upon the whole, dear Pluto you know,
'Tis well I did not split my Juno:
For had I don't, whene'er she'd scold me
She'd make the Heav'ns too hot to hold me,
The Gods upon this Application,
Return'd each to his Habitation,

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Extreamly pleas'd with this new Joke,
The best, they swore, he ever spoke.