The Punster's Pocket-book

Sir William Dawes, archbishop of York, delighted in a good pun. His clergy dining with him the first time after the decease of his lady, he said he feared the company would not find things in so good order as they were in the time of poor Mary, adding with a sigh, "Ah! she was indeed Mare Pacificum." A curate, who pretty well knew the truth of the matter, got himself completely into favour by observing, "Ay, my lord, but she was first Mare Mortuum."

DR. GOLDSMITH AND SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS

A pun spoiled

At a dinner of wits, a dish of pease was brought in, become almost grey with age. "Carry these pease to Kensington!" said one of the party. "Why to Kensington?" said another. "Because it's the way to Turn'em green." Dr. Goldsmith going home in the evening with Sir Joshua Reynolds, observed, that he would have given five pounds to make so excellent a pun. "You shall have the opportunity (said the knight) on Tuesday, when you are to dine with me, and none of the same company will be present." Tuesday came, and the dinner was served up; amongst the other dishes a plate of pease of the same description. "Carry these peas to Kensington," said Goldie. "Why so?" "Because it's the way to make them green!"

DR. BROWN'S TOAST

Dr. B. long but unsuccessfully paid his addresses to a young lady, whom he used always to give as a toast. Dining one day with a friend, the latter filling his glass, said, "Come, doctor, I'll give you your favourite toast." He answered, "You may do as you please; but for myself, I have already toasted her too long without being able to make her Brown."

R. PEAKE TO R. MARTIN, M.P

"Sir," said the humane M.P. to the facetious dramatist (praising his own bill), "instead of the drovers inhumanly beating the poor bastes as formerly, you will shortly see them applying opodeldoc to their wounds." "Ay;" rejoined the punster, "Steer's of Cow-lane."

R. PEAKE AND WINSTON

The punster, having occasion to call upon the stage manager of Drury Lane, was shown into his room, when the servant remarked, "he feared Mr. Winston had left the theatre." Peake observing a stage screw lying upon the table before him, took it up and replied, "I perceive he has left his card and name behind him."

ARNOLD AND PEAKE

A person observing that Mr. Arnold, the proprietor of the English Opera, was an ill-tempered man, but a fortunate one, Charles Westmacott replied, "he knew that to be true, for he was indebted for both his cash and success to pique." (Peake his dramatist and treasurer.)

PEAKE'S "STOUT MAN"

Appeared originally during the oppressive heat of the season 1825, at the English Opera House: when Arnold observing that the piece did not run according to his expectations, Peake dryly replied, "How can you expect a stout man to run in such very hot weather?"

CHARLES BANNISTER AND PARSONS

The late Mr. Charles Bannister going with Mr. Parsons into a shop where there was an electric eel, the latter said, "Charles, what sort of a pie would that eel make?" He answered, "A shock-ing one."

THE RIGHT HON. G. CANNING ON RESOURCES

Mr. Canning seeing a certain nobleman rowing a wherry on the Thames, with all the power and skill of a waterman, observed, "Your grace is certainly prepared for the worst extremities, for by your skull you could always keep your head above water."

BEN JONSON AND THE COUNTRYMAN

Simplicity v. Wit

A country booby boasting of the numerous acres he enjoyed, Ben Jonson peevishly told him, "For every acre you have of land, I have an acre of wit." The other, filling his glass, said, "My service to you, Mr. Wise-acre!"

DENNIS THE PUNSTER

Tria juncta in uno

Mr. Dennis, a gentleman who died about 1764, and was famous for his puns, was once ridiculed for it in a copy of verses by three gentlemen, whose names were Goodwin, Johnstone, and Marshall; he answered them in the following manner: "If Good be the better half of thy name, it is so little in thy nature as not to be perceived, though in conjunction with thy friend John, thou hast helped to make such a noble copy of verses that they ought to be engraven on stone. I would have given steel the preference, if a certain person did not Mar your works, so shall say no more of the matter."

W. R. V. – ANA

THE CONVERSATIONAL PUNSTER

"A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy."

[There are very few literary persons in London, at least among those connected with the public press, who have not occasionally enjoyed the pleasant, punning, conversational powers of my friend W. R. V. whose whim, wit, and great good nature are not more esteemed, than his unaffected manners, and sincerity of disposition justly entitle him to.]

Some one observed, "Matches are made in Heaven." "Yes," answered he, "and they are very often dipped in the other place."

Two men contending at a tavern upon the point of who wrote that beautiful song on Ingratitude, "Blow, blow, thou wintry wind!" one said Ben Jonson; the other said Shakspeare. R.V. to adjust their differences, observed, "They must have written it between them, for each was a-verse to ingratitude."

A fat gentleman who was at a loss for the name of the nobleman who was shut up in a tower and starved to death, applied to the punster – "You-go-lean-O!" was the reply.

"A tailor is the ninth part of a man," observed a would-be-wit, in the presence of a knight of the sheers: "But," answered R.V. "a fool's no part at all."

"He that will pun will pick a pocket," observed an old cynic. "You speak from experience," was the stopper to this vinegar cruet.

Rhodes, the punning landlord of the Coal Hole tavern, took the Bell Inn at Hammersmith: R.V. hoped that as he had so long answered the bell, the Bell would now answer him.

One asked him what works he had in the press. "Why, the History of the Bank, with notes; the Art of Cookery, with plates; and the Science of Single Stick, with wood cuts."

A person told him that Louis dix-huit, when he entered London, put up at Grillon's hotel. "I am surprised at that," said he; "his father took his chop at Hatchett's."

A barber recommended him his aromatic essence for the improvement of his hair. "No, no; don't waste your fragrance on the desert hair."

A friend remarked of a gentleman with very large curly whiskers, that he said nothing. "Poor fellow; don't you see he's lock-jawed?"

"How well you put on your cravat," said a crony: "that tie's something new." – "Yes; it's a novel-tie."

He pacified a quarrelsome fellow one evening by observing, "I should not like to go up in a balloon with you, for fear of our falling out."

Seeing a porter bring in an edition of a new work of his from the press to his bookseller, "Dear me!" he exclaimed, "what a weight is off my mind."

"What a swell you are in your new frock coat," said a quiz to him one day. "Don't you like it? – I do: indeed I'm quite wrapped up in it."

The same person meeting him one day in the city, observing he had on a new waistcoat, asked if it was a city cut. "No," answered he, "it's a west-cut."

Dining at the Wrekin tavern, he asked for a wine glass: the waiter, in bringing it, inadvertently let it fall – "Zounds! I did not ask you for a tumbler!"

Sitting in company with one of those people who find fault with every thing, good, bad, or indifferent, he could not refrain from quizzing the old fellow. "True, true; we have nothing new or good now-a-days: Waterloo bridge is a catchpenny, Herschell's telescope all my eye, the steam engine a bottle of smoke, and the safety-coach a complete take in."

Bearcroft the classic observed to him, that learning was pabulum animi, food of the mind. "Yes," replied he, "and that's the reason, I suppose, the collegians wear trencher caps."

On George the Fourth landing at Calais in 1820, the wind was so boisterous as to blow off his foraging cap, greatly inconveniencing him: a brave officer, Captain Jones of the Brunswicks, who stood near, presented His Majesty with his own, which the King graciously accepted, and wore until he got to his carriage. This drew from him the following impromptu:

"Whether in peace or war,
If hostile dangers frown,
It is the soldier's care
To guard his Monarch's crown."

He blamed a friend for dedicating a very clever work to a certain nobleman, notorious for his stupidity. "My book wanted a title," was the reply. "Oh!" he observed, "but it might otherwise have been peer-less."