Oh how my lungs do tickle! ha ha ha! Of how my lungs do tickle! ho ho ho ho! Set a sharp jest Against my breast, Then how my lungs do tickle! As nightingales, And things in cambric rails, Sing best against a prickle. Ha ha ha ha! Ho ho ho ho ho! Laugh! Laugh! Laugh! Laugh! Wide! Loud! And vary! A smile is for a simpering novice,-- One that ne’er tasted caviarë, Nor knows the smack of dear anchovies. Ha ha ha ha ha! Ho ho ho ho ho! A giggling waiting-wench for me, That shows her teeth how white they be,-- A thing not fit for gravity, For theirs are foul and hardly three. Ha ha ha! Ho ho ho! “Democritus, thou ancient fleerer, How I miss thy laugh, and ha’ since!” There thou named the famous[est] jeerer That e’er jeered in Rome or Athens. Ha ha ha! Ho ho ho! “How brave lives he that keeps a fool, Although the rate be deeper!” But he that is his own fool, sir, Does live a great deal cheaper. “Sure I shall burst, burst, quite break, Thou art so witty.” “’Tis rare to break at court, For that belongs to the city.” Ha ha! my spleen is almost worn To the last laughter. “Oh keep a corner for a friend! A jest may come hereafter.” Bishop Corbet, more sociable and vivacious than many of his calling wrote rollicking verses as well as wise and serious sermons. Perhaps this is the first known example of sheer nonsense verse. _LIKE TO THE THUNDERING TONE_ Like to the thundering tone of unspoke speeches, Or like a lobster clad in logic breeches, Or like the gray fur of a crimson cat, Or like the mooncalf in a slipshod hat; E’en such is he who never was begotten Until his children were both dead and rotten. Like to the fiery tombstone of a cabbage, Or like a crab-louse with its bag and baggage, Or like the four square circle of a ring, Or like to hey ding, ding-a, ding-a, ding; E’en such is he who spake, and yet, no doubt, Spake to small purpose, when his tongue was out. Like to a fair, fresh, fading, wither’d rose, Or like to rhyming verse that runs in prose, Or like the stumbles of a tinder-box, Or like a man that’s sound yet sickness mocks; E’en such is he who died and yet did laugh To see these lines writ for his epitaph. It may be that utter nonsense was more in vogue at this time than can be definitely asserted, for such productions would, naturally, not be preserved as were the more important matters. This anonymous bit of nonsense is said to have been written in 1617, and may be from the pen of the same worthy Bishop. _NONSENSE_