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given in your Essay on Ingenious and Witty Songs, p. 174.

IX.

FROM MARTIAL, B. VIII. EP. 19. Hall says he's poor, in hopes you'll say he's not; But, take his word for't; Hall's not worth a groat. Where the wit consists in not worth signifying both not possessed of and not of the value of.

If we compare these with some Epigrams which do not depend upon puns, the superiority of the wit or comic effect in the pun will be the more apparent. I select the following from the Elegant Extracts, which are some that I had previously marked as amongst the best there without any reference to this subject.

X.

BY PRIOR.

To John I ow'd great obligation,
But John unhappily thought fit

To publish it to all the nation.

Sure John and I are more than quit.

XI.

BY BANKS.

Young Courtly takes me for a dunce,
For all night long I spoke but once:
On better grounds I think him such,

He spoke but once, yet once too much.

XII.

Tom's coach and six!-Whither in such haste going?

But a short journey-To his own undoing.

XIII.

Jack his own merit sees. This gives him pride,
That he sees more than all the world beside.

XIV.

BY JOSIAH RELPH.

No, Varus hates a thing that's base;

I own indeed he's got a knack
Of flatt'ring people to their face,

But scorns to do't behind their back.

XV.

MUTUAL PITY.

Tom, ever jovial, ever gay,

To appetite a slave,

Still swears and drinks his life away,
And laughs to see me grave.
"Tis thus that we two disagree,
So different is our whim,

The fellow fondly laughs at me,

While I could cry for him.

XVI.

FROM MARTIAL, B. I. EP. 39.

The verses, friend, which thou hast read, are mine;

But, as thou read'st them, they may pass for thine.

To these I will add three from another collection.

XVII.

BY GAY.

Clodio, they say, has wit; for what?
For writing?-No, for writing not.

XVIII.

BY PRIOR.

Thy nags, the leanest things alive,
So very hard thou lov'st to drive,
I heard thy anxious coachman say,
It cost thee more in whips than hay.

XIX.

EPITAPH ON A MISER.

Reader, beware immoderate love of pelf:
Here lies the worst of thieves, who robb'd himself.

These instances may be concluded with The
Epigram on an Epigram from the Oxford
Sausage.

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One day in Christ-Church Meadows walking,

Of Poetry, and such Things talking,
Says Ralph, a merry Wag,
"An Epigram, if right and good,
In all its circumstances should
Be like a Jelly-Bag."

2

"Your Simile, I own, is new,

But how do'st make it out", quoth Hugh?
Quoth Ralph," I'll tell thee Friend;
Make it at Top both wide and fit
To hold a Budget-full of Wit,
And point it at the End."

Here, though in fact there is a double meaning in the word point, signifying the tapering end of any thing, and also the turn or sting of an epigram, yet there is too great a similarity in the two senses, the contrast is not sufficiently great to cause much surprise, and much laughter.

Some of the best of the wit by the generallyacknowledged wittiest writer of the age consists

of pun, as for instance, in The School for Scandal, A. ii. S. 2.

Mrs. Candour. She has a charming fresh colour.

Lady Teazle. Yes, when it is fresh put on.

Mrs. C. 'Tis natural, for I've seen it come and go.

Lady T. Yes, it comes at night, and goes again in the morning.

Sir Benjamin. True, madam, it not only goes and comes, but, what's more, her maid can fetch and carry it.

Again, in The Duenna, A. ii. S. 3.

Jerome. She has her aunt Ursula's nose, and her grandmother's forehead to a hair.

Isaac. Aye, and her grandfather's chin, to a hair.

Instances might be multiplied without end from some of our best authors.

Of Comic Songs containing puns, the first, which at this time presents itself to my notice, is one of Trudge's, in Inkle and Yarico, in which the puns, though not of the first rate, are yet amusing. In a Song, where there are several, and there is the additional pleasure derived from the music, a less degree of excellence will suffice than in an Epigram, where the whole life of it depends upon the pun or point.

SONG. I.

BY GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER.

TUNE: Last Valentine's Day.

1

A VOYAGE over seas had not enter'd my head, Had I known but on which side to butter my

bread,

Heigho! sure I-for hunger must die!

I've sail'd like a booby; come here in a squall, Where, alas! there's no bread to be butter'd at all!

Oho! I'm a terrible booby!
Oh, what a sad booby am I !

2

In London what gay chop-house signs in the

street!

But the only sign here is of nothing to eat.

Heigho! that I-for hunger should die! [My mutton's all lost, I'm a poor starving elf, And for all the world like a lost mution myself; Oho! I shall die like a lost mutton!

Oh what a lost mutton am I !

3

For a neat slice of beef, I could roar like a bull; And my stomach's so empty my heart is quite full. Heigho! that I—for hunger should die !]

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