Part 7

Sir Abraham Bradley King, Lord Mayor of Dublin, declined, through prudential motives, from giving, during his mayoralty, the Orange toast, so offensive to the King James's party. James, the next Lord Mayor, was not so particular, but gave it at his first dinner. Lord Norbury, who was present, could not help observing, "You are no friend to _King_,--_James_."

CURLED HAIR.

Lord Norbury calling one day on Mrs. O'Connor, the mattrass-maker in Sackville Street, Dublin, who is a very pretty woman, remonstrated with her on having so long delayed sending home his order: "Sure your Lordship," said the good woman, with great _naiveté_, "there's _no curled hair_ to be had now in Dublin, neither for _love nor money_." "By the powers above," replied his Lordship, looking amorously, "but it was very plentiful in this city, Mrs. O'Connor, when I was a _curly boy_."

TRIAL OF A HORSE.

Late on a Saturday evening, as Lord Norbury had concluded charging the jury, after a laborious and long trial, when they retired to make up their verdict, a barrister got up to make a motion respecting a horse, that had been returned to a jockey for not being sound. His lordship complained of his being much tired after the business of the day, and begged they would postpone the business till Monday. The lawyer, anxious to push forward the business, said it would only occupy him a few minutes to _try it_. His Lordship rising, said in his usual dry way: "Gentlemen, to-morrow is a holiday; you will have time and leisure to _try the horse yourselves_."

A DRY WIPE.

Lord Norbury being in company with some lawyers, was asked, had he seen a pamphlet that was written by O'Grady, in which he was reflected on? replied, "Yes, yes, I took it to the water-closet with me." When told who was the author, he replied, "Ha! I did not think my friend Grady intended me such a _wipe_."

HOW TO CUT A FIGURE IN THE TEMPLE.

Lord Norbury, while indisposed, was troubled with a determination of blood to the head. Surgeon Carrol accordingly opened the _temporal artery_; and whilst attending to the operation, his Lordship said to him, "Carrol, I believe you were _never called to the bar_?" "No, my Lord, I never was," replied the surgeon.--"Well, I am sure, Doctor, I can safely say _you have cut a figure in the Temple_."

THE GAME JOKE.

On being informed, last autumn, of the elopement of Mrs. Moore, whose maiden name was Woodcock, Lord Norbury said, "Then we must look out our _fleecy hosiery_."--"Why so, my Lord?" "Because it is an unerring symptom of a sudden, long, and severe winter to see, so early in the season, the _Woodcocks forsake the Moors_."

MAJESTICALLY MOUNTED.

Lord Norbury, meeting the Marchioness of Conyngham and Lady Elizabeth riding on horseback in the Phœnix Park, took occasion to admire the beauty of their horses: "The gift of His Majesty," said her Ladyship artlessly: "and Lady Elizabeth's is also a royal present."--"Then I understand," said Lord Norbury, "His Majesty _mounts you both_."

A SPORTING PUN.

A gentleman on circuit narrating to his Lordship some extravagant feat in sporting, mentioned that he had lately shot thirty-three hares before breakfast.--"Thirty-three _hares_!" exclaimed Lord Norbury: "Zounds, Sir! then you must have been firing at a _wig_."

THE FEMALE LINGUIST.

A report having reached his Lordship that a female pedant, who was well known as a blue stocking and linguist, was about to be married, he observed, "He could answer for her disposition to _conjugate_, but feared she would have no opportunity of _declining_."

HOPE AND JOY.

At a trial in the Irish Court, Mr. Hope, an eminent attorney, being employed as agent in a certain cause, apologized to the court for the absence of Mr. Joy, his counsel, requesting that it would delay for a few minutes, till Mr. Joy, who was engaged in another court, would return. Some time having elapsed, Lord Norbury addressed the bar, saying, "Gentlemen, I think we had better proceed with the business of the day--although

'_Hope_ told a flattering tale, That _Joy_ would soon return.'"

A RUM WITNESS SENT TO QUOD.

A witness being interrogated by Lord Norbury, in a manner not pleasing to him, turned to an acquaintance, and told him in a half whisper, that he did not come there to be _queered_ by the old one. Lord Norbury heard him, and instantly replied in his own _cant_, "I'm _old_, 'tis true, and I'm _rum_ sometimes--and for once I'll be _queer_, and send you to _quod_."

A LATE DINNER.

Mr. Curran was to dine with Lord Norbury, when Mr. Toler. His dinner hours were late, which Mr. Curran always disliked. Mr. Toler was going to take his ride, and meeting Mr. Curran walking towards his house, said, "Do not forget, Curran, you dine with me to-day." "I rather fear, my friend," replied Mr. Curran, "it will be _so long first_, that you may forget it."

CUT AND COME AGAIN.

In a celebrated trial, wherein Mr. Trumble was plaintiff, and Mr. Allpress of Abbey-street, defendant, before Lord Norbury and a special jury, Mr. Serjeant Johnson, Counsellor Leland, and one or two more very fat barristers were employed for the defendant. The opposite bar were remarkably thin spare men, viz. Messrs. Goold, North, Pennyfather, &c. Mr. Johnson, in defending his client from paying a penal rent, in the heat of argument said, "My Lord and gentlemen of the jury, the opposite party stand forth like Shylock in the play, with their knife outstretched _to cut from us_ the very pound of flesh!" Lord Norbury very tritely interrupted the learned serjeant by saying, "Mr. Johnson, the opposite bar perhaps conceive you _can spare it better_."

A NOTE TAKER TRANSPORTED.

When it was told to Lord Norbury, that sentence of transportation to Botany Bay was passed upon the notorious Mr. Smith, who had been detected in clandestinely pocketing some notes off the vestry-room table, after the collection for the Charity Schools of St. Michael's Church, in November 1819, he jocosely replied, "that he thought it very hard, as it was no uncommon thing to have _note takers_ at all such public meetings."

CLOSE SHAVING.

The Persian Ambassador having, among other public places, visited the Irish Courts of Justice, in November Term of 1819, coming into the Court of Common Pleas whilst it was sitting, the business was suspended for a short time, to view so extraordinary a personage, he being fully dressed in the eastern costume, long beard, &c. After he had retired, one of the Judges asked Lord Norbury what he thought of him, his Lordship wittily replied, "he might be a very _clever man_, but he was certain he was not a _close shaver_."

THE RACKET COURT.

The counsel in the Irish courts are not always so decorous and attentive as they should be. During the examination of a witness, Lord Norbury had occasion once or twice to request silence; when the man, in a reply to a question from his lordship relative to his occupation, answered that "he kept a _racket court_." "Indeed," said the judge, and looking archly at the bar, continued, "and I am very sorry to say that I am Chief Justice of a _racket court_ much too often."

POT LUCK.

A certain Irish musical amateur, who was very irritable, had a party of vocal and instrumental friends on a particular evening in every week at his own house; when some wags, more desirous of promoting discord than harmony, used to assemble under his windows, making the most hideous noises, or in the Irish phraseology, "_giving him a shaloo_," upon which the amateur dislodged the contents of a certain chamber utensil upon the heads of some passers by, but unfortunately missed his persecutors. For this assault an action was brought and tried before Lord Norbury, who, in summing up the case to the jury, good humouredly observed, "that the plaintiffs must be considered in the light of _uninvited guests_, and it could not be denied that they had been treated by the defendant with _pot-luck_."

In a humorous trial between the rival managers, Messrs. Daly and Astley, respecting the right of the latter to perform the farce of "My Grandmother," at the Peter-street theatre, Dublin, Daly's counsel stated, that the penalties recoverable from the defendant, for his infringement of the rights of the patent theatre, would all be given to that excellent charity the Lying-in Hospital. Mr. Toler, in reply, observed, "That it was notorious, no man in Dublin had contributed more largely, _in one way_, to the Lying-in Hospital than Mr. Daly; and it was therefore but fair, if he recovered in this action, that he should send them _the cash_. But," continued the facetious counsel, "although Mr. Daly's attachment to _good pieces_ is proverbial, we do not choose that he shall monopolize all the _good pieces_ in Dublin, from '_My Grandmother_' down to '_Miss in her Teens_.'"

LORD NORBURY'S EPITAPH. SAID TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY HIMSELF

He's dead! alas, facetious _punster_, Whose jokes made learned wigs with fun stir: From heaven's high court, a _tipstaff's_ sent, To call him to his _pun_-ishment:-- Stand to your ropes! ye sextons, ring! Let all your clappers ding, dong, ding! Nor-bury him without his due, He was himself a Toler[22] too!

[22] The Learned Judge's name.

PUNNING EPIGRAMS.

THE SPORTING PUNSTERS.

Two merry wags, of Cockney land, Well known at Rhodes's, in the Strand, Where tavern wits choice puns let fly, Resolved their dogs and guns to try. Dress'd cap-a-pee, in sporting suit, With jacket, belt, and net to boot, Away they trudge to Hampstead Rise, To take the pheasants by surprise. And what will strange appear, though true, A poor stray'd cock-bird came in view, Uprising 'tween the punning elves, Who miss'd the bird, but shot themselves. Condoling on their hapless gunning, They yet could not desist from punning: "Ne'er mind, Tom, _peasants_ each we've hit." "Why leave the _aitch_, Ned, out of it?" "Because," quoth Ned, "I'd fain forget The _aitch_ that frets my body yet." "Still _pop_ for _pop_," quoth Tom again. Says Ned, "I feel a _shooting pain_; But then I've heard, those who aspire To be good sportsmen must stand fire." "Agreed," cries Tom, "and in my head 'Tis now engraved in _molten lead_."

_By_ Bernard Blackmantle.

ON SIR THOMAS MORE, LORD CHANCELLOR OF ENGLAND.

When _More_ had few years Chancellor been, No _more_ suits did remain; The like shall never _more_ be seen, Till _More_ be there again!

R.B. SHERIDAN'S EPIGRAM ON PITT.

The nation is _pawn'd_! we shall find to our cost, And the minister since has the _duplicate_ lost. We shall all be undone by the politic schemer, Who, though "_Heav'n-born_[23]," will not prove a _Redeemer_.

[23] In the ministerial prints Mr. Pitt was usually so designated.

ON "RECOLLECTIONS OF LORD BYRON, BY THE LATE R.C. DALLAS, EDITED BY HIS SON."

A mighty DULL ASS is old prosing Dallas, And quite as dull and prosing is his Son-- What! fifteen shillings for the book! Alas! No pleasant "_Recollection_"----I am _done_.

DEAN SWIFT'S BARBER.

Dean Swift's barber one day told him that he had taken a public house. "And what's your sign?" said the Dean. "Oh, the pole and bason; and if your worship would just write me a few lines to put upon it, by way of motto, I have no doubt but it would draw me plenty of customers." The Dean took out his pencil, and wrote the following couplet, which long graced the barber's sign:

"Rove not from _pole_ to _pole_, but step in here, Where nought excels the _shaving_ but the _beer_."

G. COLMAN TO MISS M. TREE,

_Impromptu, on Miss M. Tree's intended marriage and retirement from the stage._

You bloom and charm us!--still the bosom grieves, When Trees of _your description_ take their _leaves_.

TO CAPTAIN PARRY, THE POLAR NAVIGATOR,

_On his giving a Fete on board the Hecla._

Dear Captain Parry, you are right To give the belles a levee; God grant your _dancing_ may be _light_, For oh! your _book is heavy_.

SAM ROGERS TO CHARLES LAMB.

_Elia's Pen._

Says _Elia_, "Zounds, this pen is hard!" Quoth Samuel Rogers, "Do not huff; But write away, my honey bard, You soon can make it _soft enough_."

FRI _v._ DAY.

_Good Friday_ rain'd, _Sam Rogers_ dined On soles, for fish were all the go; And Sam allowed the _Fri_ was _good_, Although the _day_ was but _so so_.

TO THE LATE MR. COUTTS.

_Written at Holly Lodge, Highgate, by the Duke of Gordon, and presented in the Drawing-room by the Marquis of Huntley._

An _apple_, we know, caused old Adam's disgrace, Who from Paradise quickly was driven; But yours, my dear Tom, is a happier case, For a _Melon_ transports you to heaven.

TO MRS. COUTTS, THE GAY WIDOW.

Her mourning is all make-believe; 'Tis plain there's nothing in it; With weepers she has tipp'd her sleeve, The while she's laughing in it.

IMPROMPTU, BY LORD ERSKINE TO LADY PAYNE, ON BEING TAKEN ILL AT HER HOUSE.

'Tis true I am ill, but I need not complain; For he never knew pleasure who never knew _Payne_.

TO C.J. FOX, ON HIS MARRIAGE.

God's noblest work's an _honest man_, Says Pope's instructive line; To make an _honest woman_, then, Most surely is divine.

TO JOSEPH HUME, ON HIS ORATORY.

You _move_ the people, when you speak, For one by one, _away_ they sneak.

COWPER'S HOMER.

_Any-mad-versions_ when like this I see, _Animadversions_ they will draw from me.

TO LORD NELSON. BY PETER PINDAR.

_With his Lordship's night-cap, that caught fire on the Poet's head, as he was reading in bed at Merton._

Take your night-cap again, my good lord, I desire, For I wish not to keep it a minute; What belongs to a Nelson, where'er there is fire, Is sure to be instantly in it.

ON THE COUNTESS OF B----, WHO WAS RUINED AT THE GAMING TABLE.

_Card-table epitaph._

Clarinda reign'd the queen of _hearts_, Like sparkling _diamonds_ were her eyes; Till by the knave of _clubs'_ false arts, Here bedded by a _spade_ she lies.

ADAM AND MACADAM.

"The Macadamized streets are extremely _dusty_."-- _Morning Paper._

Adam was made of borrow'd dust; So says the Bible; and, 'tis plain, Macadam, to discharge the trust, To dust turns all the _ways of men_.

THE INQUEST, BY E. KNIGHT, COMEDIAN.

_A hint to clever men employed on such occasions._

"Poor Peter Pike is drown'd, and neighbours say The jury mean _to sit on him_ to day." "Know'st thou for what?" said Tom.--Quoth Ned, "no doubt 'Tis merely done _to squeeze the water out_."

BY HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUKE OF SUSSEX.

_Royal Pun-Dit._

Come, lament, all ye _Rogers_, of punning renown, Whose praises are sung by the[24] Puss sex, For the pun of all puns that enraptures the town Is the last by his big Grace of Sus-sex.

In dispensing last week the Dispensary toasts, And telling the names of its Patrons, He stumbled on two, of whom Watling Street boasts, No matter if spinsters or matrons.

First came Mrs. Church, and then came Mrs. Bliss: Said his Grace "Were such joys ever given! We enter the first--for the way we can't miss: We enter the second--'_tis Heaven_!"

[24] Puss, a domestic animal--allegorically a mature spinster--_a tabby_.--Johnson.

TO HOWARD PAYNE, THE COMPILER OF "BRUTUS."

Your _prose_ and _verse_ alike are bad, Methinks you both transpose; Your _prose_ e'en like your _verse_ runs mad, And all your _verse_ is _prose_.

DR. WALCOT TO SHIELD THE COMPOSER.

_The following was sent to Shield, the ingenious Composer, for his Ivory Ticket of admission to a Concert, by his friend Peter Pindar._

Son of the _string_, (I do not mean _Jack Ketch_, Though Jack, like _thee_, produceth _dying tones_,) Oh! yield thy pity to a starving wretch, And for to-morrow's _treat_, pray send thy _bones_!

BY LORD BYRON,

_On Southey's house being on fire._

Pierios vatis Theodori flamma Penates, Abstulit: hoc Musis, hoc tibi, Phœbe, placet? O scelus, ô magnum facinus, crimenque deorum, Non arsit pariter quod domus et dominus.

_Martial_, Lib. xi. Epig. 94.

The Laureate's house hath been on fire! the Nine All smiling saw that pleasant bonfire shine: But, cruel fate! Oh damnable disaster! The house--the house is burnt, and not the master!

GEORGE TIERNEY, M.P.

_The Inclosure Bill._

If 'tis a crime in man or woman, A goose to pilfer from a common; What can a parliament excuse, To steal a _common_ from a _goose_?

ON THE MARRIAGE OF MISS LITTLE,

_A lady remarkably short in stature._

Thrice happy Tom--I think him so; For mark the poet's song,-- "Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little _long_."

ON SIGNOR B. OF THE KING'S THEATRE, WHO RAN AWAY FROM HIS CREDITORS.

His _time_ was _quick_, his _touch_ was fleet, Our gold he nimbly _finger'd_; Alike alert with _hands_ and _feet_, His _movements_ have not linger'd.

Where lies the wonder of the case? A moment's thought detects it; His _practice_ has been _thorough-bass_, A _chord_ will be his exit.

SHERIDAN AND HIS SON TOM.

A father and son much addicted to drink, Sat each quaffing his grog with high glee; Said the parent, "Why, Tom, thou dost drink mighty deep, Though you'll say that you take _after_ me."

"No, _father_," cried Tom, "I will never say so, Nor _do_ so, I hope, by St. Paul; For, 'tis certain, that if I did _take after you_, I should drink _scarcely any at all_!"

BY LORD HARBOROUGH.

If _Love's_ a _flame_, as ancient poets prove, Ah, me! how _cold's_ the _fire_ of my _Love_.

ON A PAINTED FAIR.

Ye ladies who _paint_, may most safely declare, With _Horace_, that _dust_ and a _shadow_ ye are.

CURRAN'S DEFINITION OF AN EPIGRAM.

An epigram, what is it, honey? A little poem, short and funny; About four lines in length,--not more: Then this _is_ one, for here are four.

ON A MISER NAMED MORE.

_Iron_ was his chest, _Iron_ was his door; His hand was _iron_, And his heart was _More_.

ON THE LATE JOHN KEMBLE.

_Written during the O.P. contest._

_Actor_ and _Architect_, he tries To please the critics, one and all; This bids the _private tiers_ to rise, And that the _public tears_ to fall.

MAIDS AND BACHELORS.

Old maids, in hell, 'tis said, lead apes; It may be true--but, tarry-- They're bachelors that fill those shapes Because they did not marry.

ON SEEING A SWAGGERING VICAR AND PHYSICIAN ARM IN ARM.

How D.D. swaggers, M.D. rolls! I dub them both a race of noddies: Old D.D. has the cure of souls, And M.D. has the care of bodies. Between them both, what treatment rare Our souls and bodies must endure! One has the cure without the care, And one the care without the cure.

ONE LAWYER MORE.

"Pray does one More, a lawyer, live hard by?" "I do not know of _one_," was the reply; "But if one _less_ were living, I am sure, Mankind his absence safely might endure."

PERCY BYSHE SHELLEY TO A SCOTCH CRITIC.

In critics this country is rich; In friendship and love who can match 'em: When writers are plagued with the _itch_, They hasten most kindly to _scratch_ 'em.

DAVID DOUBLE'S PETITION TO ONE OF THE INNS OF COURT.

The Society of Clement's Inn having had iron bars put up at the entrance to prevent porters, cattle, or other nuisances from coming in,--it called forth the following lines from a "_fat single gentleman_" to the principal and ancients.

Ye _principal_ and _ancient_ men, attend To one of your unfortunate fat lodgers, Whose _studies_ make him _lusty_;--oh! befriend! Or I shall surely call you _ancient codgers_.

'Tis true I came here, looking to _the bar_, And hop'd to have _a call_ some day unto it; But at _your entrance_ now there _many_ are, Indeed so many, that I can't get thro' it.

"_I can't get out_," as Sterne's poor starling said, Unless I ask the porter to unlock it; This must be alter'd, as I'm so well fed, Or 'gainst my _corpus_ you must strike a docket.

This may reduce me to a decent size, And let me pass your cursed bars of iron; Put up to keep us from the _London cries_, Which now your _sanctum sanctorum_ environ.

For if I can't be _taken in_, 'tis clear I cannot be _let out_; and that gives trouble. Ye _principal_ and _ancient_ men, oh! hear! And let me _pass the bar_--I'm David Double.

ON A MR. HOMER'S BANKRUPTCY.

That _Homer_ should a bankrupt be Is not so very _Odd-d'ye-see_; If it be true, as I am instructed, So _Ill-he-had_ his books conducted.

WALKING FOR LIFE.

_On a Gentleman bringing on a severe fit of illness, by an excess in walking exercise, in order to preserve his health._

Prithee cease, my good friend, to expend thus your breath; 'Tis in vain these exertions you make: And to "_walk for your life_" against sure-footed death, Is the very "_worst step you can take_!"

A SPIRIT ABOVE AND A SPIRIT BELOW. _On a Methodist Chapel, the vaults under which were used as wine cellars_:

There's a spirit _above_ and a spirit _below_, A spirit of _joy_ and a spirit of _woe_: The spirit _above_ is a spirit _divine_; The spirit _below_ is a spirit of _wine_.

THE UPPER ROOMS AND THE OLD ROOMS, BATH.

Two musical parties to Bladud belong, To delight the _old rooms_ and the _upper_: One gives to the ladies a _supper_, no _song_; The other a _song_ and no _supper_.

ON A LEFT-HANDED WRITING-MASTER.

Though nature thee of thy _right_ hand bereft, _Right_ well thou _writest_ with the hand that's _left_.

PRINTER'S KISS.

Print on my lips another kiss, The picture of thy glowing passion-- Nay, this wont do--nor this--nor this-- But now--Ay, that's a _proof impression_.

TO A DOUBTFUL MILITARY CHARACTER.

Though much you're scar'd by _Mars_ in _arms_, At _fighting_ much _dejected_; Yet _Venus_, with her _naked_ charms, Has seen you--More-affected.

THE FOUR AGES OF WOMAN. _From the French._

Woman is In infancy a tender flower, Cultivate her; A floating bark in girlhood's hour, Softly freight her. A fruitful vine when grown a lass, Prune and please her; Old, she's a heavy charge, alas! Support and ease her.

THE FEMALE CARD PLAYER AND HER GARDENER. _On a Lady far advanced in years, who was a great Card-player, having married her Gardener._

_Trumps_ ever rul'd the charming maid, Sure all the world must pardon her; The destinies turned up a _spade_; She married John the _gardener_.

THE BENCHERS OF THE TEMPLE. _The Lamb and the Horse being their Insignia._

The _Lamb_, the lawyer's _innocence_ declares; The _Horse_, their _expedition_ in affairs; Hail, happy men! such _emblems_ well describe The _specious cunning_ of your _legal tribe_: For say what _client_ can expect a _loss_ From _Lamb_-like lawyers, _fleeter_ than a _Horse_? No more let _Chancery's ills_ be _endless_ counted, Since on the _Pegasus_ of _Law_ ye're mounted. And ye, _poor suitors_! mark your _simple fate_-- The _shorn lambs_ ye--that crowd the _Temple gate_.

ON SIR ISAAC NEWTON.

"Some _demon_, sure," says wond'ring Ned, "In Newton's brain has fix'd his station!" "True," Dick replies, "you've rightly said, I know his name,--'tis _demon-stration_."

TO CERTAIN FAIR MARRIED LIBERTINES.