The works of Mr. Thomas Brown, serious and comical : in prose and verse, with his remains in four volumes compleat; vol. IIBrown, Thomas
General
The works of Mr. Thomas Brown, serious and comical : in prose and verse, with his remains in four volumes compleat; vol. II
Brown, Thomas
English wit and humor -- Early works to 1800; Erotic literature -- Early works to 1800; Latin literature -- Translations into English
as drowsy as if I had been dry’d in an oven all night, and with that
whips up the punch-bowl to his head, and drinks off the rincings of my
nostrils as heartily as if it had been sherbet made on purpose for a
cooler, and by the way, ever since that time has found such an
alteration in his faculties, that from a very dull fellow he is become
an absolute wit, to the admiration of all that knew him, tho’ I never
durst tell him it was from the dripping of my brains that he deriv’d his
ingenuity. But to be short in my story, when I was thoroughly awak’d, I
began to have a wambling in my stomach, as if I had supp’d over night
with a mountebank’s toad-eater, the chamber-pot being full, I was
unwilling to defile the room, and before I was aware, let fly into my
_lignum-vitæ_ night-cap, and being then pretty well at ease, I open’d
the chamber door, and stagger’d homewards; at the end of _Turnstile_ I
happen’d to make a trip at a drunkard’s enemy, a stump, and down I
tumbled; who should come by before I could get up again, but the
constable going his rounds, who quickly made me the centre of a circle
of jack of lanthorns, and seeing me grovelling on the ground, did not
know but some body had mischiev’d me, upon which they ask’d me if I was
wounded? Yes said I, sadly cut. Where, where, Sir, cries the watchmen? I
reply’d, about the head; they cry’d out, who did it, who did it! punch,
punch, said I; one of the watchmen being a fat short fellow, they us’d
to call him punch, by my soul, Sir, said he to the constable, I never
saw the gentleman all the night before, and with that they haul’d me up,
and perceiving their mistake, two of them, like honest fellows, handed
me home to my chambers, without so much as stealing my hat, or picking
my pockets, which was a wonder: I had not been many hours in bed, but
comes the footman of the gentleman who entertain’d us, to my door with a
challenge, for affronting him for his civility, by spewing into his
punch-bowl. I sent him word I would not fail to meet him at the time and
place appointed, God willing; so put on a clean shirt, and equipp’d
myself for the adventure. But considering I had a man of fortitude to
deal with, and one that would face any thing upon earth, except a cat,
which he hated much more than he did the sight of the devil; I
therefore thought policy beyond strength against such an adversary, so
resolv’d to set my wits to work to prevent bloodshed, and fortunately
having a cat in my chamber that had not kitten’d above a week? I took
the whole progeny out of the nest, which consisted of half a dozen, puts
three into one coat-pocket, and three into t’other, and away I march’d
behind _Southampton-wall_ to meet my antagonist; where I waited but a
few minutes e’er he approach’d the place in a great fury; I argued the
matter reasonably with him, but found nothing would atone for the
affront but downright fighting, so steping a few paces back, he gave me
the word and draws.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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