The Punster's Pocket-book

Prefatory remarks on the art of punning – its antiquity from Homer's outis, through Sophocles, Cicero, &c. down to Shakspeare, &c. Its advantages over wit. Wit requires wit in the hearer to comprehend it – a lasting and insuperable objection to its universality. Puns, on the contrary, require no wit to make them, nor any to understand them. Prove this by their well-known effect on stupidity in drawing-rooms, theatres, &c. An act to abolish punning would be the destruction of three-quarters of what are called the wits of our times, and fifteen-sixteenths of the dramatic writers.

Under these circumstances of fashion and prevalence, a man might as well go into a gambling house without knowing how to play, as into company without knowing how to make himself agreeable by punning. Rules are necessary for the acquisition of every art. Let what Ovid desired to have said of him, in respect to love, be said of me, with regard to punning – "Magister erat."

In the rules divide thus – puns for every day, in one week, in winter, spring, summer, and autumn. Puns, in these different seasons, for men, and puns for women, varied according to the class of life, and the rank held in the particular establishment, &c. &c.

MASTER OF A FAMILY

First day – Sketch to be filled up

Sunday.– This is a day of rest for all things but women's tongues and puns – they have none. You go to church, of course, to set a good example to your family, but let them attend to the parson, you may be preparing puns against dinner-time, when you expect a party.

The man of the house is nothing without his wife. It is becoming that she should assist you – she is your help-mate. Connive together, and let her put leading questions. Half an hour before dinner – company come. All very stupid as usual. Mrs. – observes, that she fears that the dinner will be rather late, as she was obliged to take Adam, the footman, to the park, on account of the children. The husband immediately remarks, that Adam may be the first of men, but he is a damn slow fellow.

Mrs.– . My dear Tom, you deserve a Cane for that.

Mr.– . Ay, if you were Able to give it to me, who am a host to-day. Perhaps you were on the Eve of saying this; well, there's as much chance in these things as in a Pair o' dice.

    (A general laugh.)

Here you are at the end of this excellent subject. I don't know that any thing more can be made of it.

N.B. Hire no man unless his name is Adam, or he will suffer you to call him so.

Let your children enter. Miss Lucy, George, and Theodore, all punsters, but this day is devoted to the father. Call your daughter, Lucy, because, if you are a profound scholar, you can frequently bring in "luce clarior." Your other girl, Sally, ran away with an apothecary. Mrs. – will say this, and you'll exclaim, "Ah, Sal volatile!"

Invite a poor French priest[29 - The word Emigré, which appears in this article as before printed, would at once destroy the unquestionable right Swift has to the honour of this MS. for Emigré did not obtain in our language till long after his death.] to your table at these times. He is always to ask, when your children appear, "Est ce qu'ils sont tous par la même mère?"

When you are to reply – "Yes, I believe they are all by the same mare, but I won't answer for the horse[30 - This has been given to Foote; but dates decide.]."

This is not very complimentary to your wife; but it would be a pretty joke indeed, if a good pun was to be lost for such a trifling consideration.

If you consult decency too much, there's an end of wit. He who digs for diamonds must not be over squeamish about dirt. Here Mrs. – may say, "My dear Tom, I wish the man would bring up the dinner."

Mr. – . "Bring up the dinner, my love? Heaven forbid! As Dido says, that's 'sic sic,' so so[31 - Æn. iv. 660.]."

You must not be too nice, as I observed before.

    (Mrs. – rings the bell.)

Enter Servant

Mrs. – . Is dinner ready?

Mr. (Looking round.) – The chops are, I'm sure.

Adam. It is dishing now, ma'am.

    (A crash heard as if an accident.)

Mr. – Dishing indeed – I fear it's dished.

Dinner – all seated

Mrs. – . Will any body take soup?

Mr. – . What, before grace, you graceless rogues. There's no parson here, I see; though we are not without some of the cloth. Well, I'll say it – grace at dinner is meet.

[A universal laugh. The sight of dinner is a breeder of good-humour.]

Take care to have the salt-cellars put on the table empty.

Mr. – . Why what the devil's this – no salt!

Mrs. – . (As planned.) – You have salt enough, I'm sure, my dear.

Mr. – . "Ego punior ipse," Ovid. Very well, very well! my wife is not amiss: but the salt, Adam.

Adam. Sir, the house-keeper's gone out, and I don't know where to get any.

Mr. – . Why an't here four salt sellers?

[The Frenchman does not understand this, but he is to laugh heartily nevertheless.]

Mrs. – . Here, Adam; take this key, and you'll find some in the store-room, at the top of the house.

Mr.– . Attic salt, eh! ha, ha, ha! Well, come let's fall to; this meat will keep no longer without salt.

Mrs. – . My dear Tom, that rich dish will only give you the gout.

Mr. – . Pooh! "Chacun à son gout." Why should not I eat it, as well as another?

Mrs. – . Bless me, how you mangle that duck.

Mr. – . Mangle it, my love. Well, I think that's better than to wash and iron it; but tell me how you'll have it done, and you shall find me ductile.

[Many opportunities will offer of making obscene puns, but I give no rules for these; they come naturally to every punster! All I shall say is, that they must never be neglected.]

Let your cook be famous for pancakes. One of your little boys must inquire for some.

Mr. – . My dear, this is Sunday; you know we can't have pancakes till Fri-day.

[Many more puns must be introduced. Champaign, real pain; after all cheese is best, &c.]

The company will, probably, add some, and you may, also, by accident; however, you'll have this advantage over your friends, that you'll be certain of all these while you're with your wife, and at home. Your acquaintance, of course, have names, and if they have no other merit, it's very hard if you can't make something of them in the pun way. Any blockhead can do that.

DESSERT

Mr. – . "Give every man his deserts." Shakspeare.