they will come again the sooner.”
Captain Robert Bacon, revelling at Sir William Paston’s, had his sack served him in a curious Venice glass, very much under the size he used to trade in. So, after a long contemplation of his measure, “Sir William,” said he, “If you value this glass, as I believe you do, tie a good long string to it, to draw it up again; for I am sure I shall swallow it some time or other.”
In the time of James the First, when privy-counsellors multiplied very fast, and were sometimes admitted at a very green age, some one remarked one day that the table would be soon too little to hold them. “Why,” said another, “some must just do like other children, then, and sit on the joint stools without.”
As a regiment of soldiers were marching through a country town, the captain (a strict disciplinarian) observed that one of the drums did not beat, and ordered a lieutenant to inquire the reason. The fellow, on being interrogated, whispered to the lieutenant, “I have two ducks and a turkey in my drum, and the turkey is for his honour:” which, being whispered to the captain, “D – n the fellow,” cried the captain, “why did he not say he was lame? I don’t want men to do their duty when they’re not able.”
A traveller speaking of the many countries and cities he had seen, one of the company asked him if he had ever been in Cosmography? He, taking it for the name of a city, said, “We saw it at a distance; but, as we went post, we could not visit it.”
A prisoner being brought up to Bow Street, the following dialogue passed between him and the sitting magistrate: “How do you live?” “Pretty well, sir; generally a joint and pudding at dinner.” “I mean, sir, how do you get your bread?” “I beg your worship’s pardon; sometimes at the baker’s, and sometimes at the chandler’s shop.” “You may be as witty as you please, sir; but I mean simply to ask you, how do you do?” “Tolerably well, I thank your worship: I hope your worship is well.”
No prince was more addressed than Charles II., while the very people who sent these generous, nay, extravagant offers, scarcely allowed him the necessary supplies. Killigrew saw this in the proper view, and once gave private orders to the king’s tailor to make one of his majesty’s coat-pockets of a most enormous size, and the other scarcely larger than a thimble. The king being informed that this was done at the desire of Killigrew, asked him the reason. “May it please your majesty,” replied the arch wag, “the large pocket is to receive the addresses of your subjects, and the other is to put the money in, which they intend to present you with.”
A gentleman sitting in one of the boxes in company with Lord North, not knowing his lordship, entered into conversation with him, and seeing two ladies come into an opposite box, turned to him, and addressed him with, “Pray, sir, can you inform me who is that ugly woman that is just come in?” “O,” replied his lordship, with great good humour, “that is my wife.” “Sir, I ask you ten thousand pardons, I do not mean her, I mean that shocking monster who is along with her.” “That,” replied his lordship, “is my daughter.”
Lord North who was very much troubled with the gout, one day feeling some symptoms of an approaching fit, ordered his servant to bring him his gouty shoes. The fellow, after looking for them some time in vain, returned, and told his master he believed they were stolen, and as an addenda to the information, muttered a few hearty curses against the thief. “Poh! poh!” said the good-humoured peer, “do not be ill-natured; all the harm I wish the rascal is, that the shoes may fit him.”
A Frenchman, on landing at Dover, went into a barber’s shop to get shaved. The poor man’s cheeks were so much collapsed, that the barber was under the necessity of thrusting his fingers into his customer’s mouth to assist the operation. “O mon Dieu, mon Dieu!” exclaimed the Frenchman, whilst the barber was dashing away, “me be damnably cut.” “Confound your thin lanthorn jaws,” replied Strop, “I have cut my fingers cursedly through your cheek.”
In the great Dutch war, in the reign of Charles II., the English fleet and that of Holland fought in the Channel for three days successively; engaging in the day, and lying-to at night. But, just as they were preparing to renew the action, advice came off that an armistice had been concluded, and the hostile parties began to exercise mutual civilities. On board a Dutch man of war, which lay alongside of an English first-rate, was a sailor so remarkably active, as to run to the mast head and stand upright upon the truck, after which he cut several capers, and concluded with standing on his head, to the great astonishment and terror of the spectators. On coming down from his exploit, all his countrymen expressed their joy by huzzahing, and thereby signifying their triumph over the English. One of the British tars, piqued for the honour of his country, ran up to the top like a cat, and essayed, with all his might, to throw up his heels as the Dutchman had done; but, not having the skill, he missed his poise, and came down rather faster than he went up. The rigging, however broke his fall, and he lighted on his feet unhurt. As soon as he had recovered his speech, he ran to the side, and exultingly cried out to the Dutchmen, “There, d – n your eyes, do that if you can.”
Strange, Moore, and Wright, three notorious punsters, were on a certain occasion dining together, when Moore observed, “There is but one knave among us, and that’s Strange.” “Oh no,” said Wright, “there is one Moore.” “Ay,” said Strange, “that’s Wright.”
The captain of one of the British frigates, a man of undaunted bravery, had a natural antipathy to a cat. A sailor who, from misconduct, had been ordered a flogging, saved his back by presenting to his captain the following petition: —
By your honour’s command
A culprit I stand —
An example to all the ship’s crew;
I am pinioned and stript,
And condemned to be whipt,
And if I am flogged – ’tis my due!
A cat I am told,
In abhorrence you hold:
Your honour’s aversion is mine! —
If a cat with one tail
Makes your stout heart to fail,
O, save me from one that has nine!
The students at Oxford stand much upon punctilio in the matter of making acquaintance; insomuch that one will not hold the least intercourse with another, unless the proper formula of introduction has been gone through. It is told, as a quiz upon them for this peculiarity, that a young gentleman, who had recently entered one of the colleges, happening to be seized with cramp while bathing in the Isis, and being on the point of sinking, probably to rise no more, a youth of older standing, who leant over a bridge near the scene, thus soliloquized: – “Good God! what a pity I was not introduced to that fresh-man – perhaps I might have saved him.”
Some time ago, a member of Parliament applied to the post-office to know why some of his franks had been charged. The answer was: “We supposed, sir, they were not of your writing; the hand is not the same.” “Why, not precisely the same; but the truth is, I happened to be a little tipsy when I wrote them.” “Then, sir, will you be so good, in future, to write ‘drunk’ when you make free.”
Henrietta, queen of Charles I., when pregnant of her first child, longed very much for some cheese. An attendant expressed surprise at her majesty having an appetite for such coarse meat, and remarked that if the Welshmen heard of it they would take it as a high compliment. “Oh,” said the queen, “content yourself; what do you know but the Prince of Wales may long for it.”
In the time of Joe Miller