English Jests and Anecdotes, Collected from Various Sources. Various
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In the time of the Long Parliament, Sandys, a gentleman of bold spirit, was examined before the House, when Lenthall, the Speaker, put some ridiculous and impertinent questions to him, asking, at last, what countryman he was! “Of Kent,” said Sandys; “and pray, may I demand the same of you?” “I am out of the west,” said Lenthall. “By my troth,” replied Sandys, “so I thought, for all the wise men come out of the east.”
EXHUMATION OF THE REGICIDES.
In the crowd which attended the exhumation of Cromwell, Ireton, and Bradshaw, after the Restoration, some one exclaimed, “Who would have ever thought to see Cromwell hanged for high treason!” “Oh, sir,” said another, “this is nothing strange: see,” he added, pointing to Bradshaw, “there is a president for it.”
GOOD SUBSTITUTE FOR LAW.
“I defy you,” said a stubborn culprit to a justice during the Civil War; “there is no law now.” “Then,” said the justice gravely to his servants, “if there be no law, bring me a rope.” The knave instantly knocked under.
JUDGE JEFFRIES.
Jeffries, examining an old fellow with a long beard, told him, he supposed he had a conscience quite as long as that natural ornament of his visage. “Does your lordship measure consciences by beards?” said the man; “that is strange, seeing you are yourself shaven.”
SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT.
Sir William Davenant, the dramatic poet, had no nose. He was one day walking along the Mews, when a female beggar followed him, crying, “Ah, God preserve your eyesight, sir! the Lord preserve your eyesight!” “Why, good woman,” said he, “do you pray so anxiously for my eyesight?” “Ah, dear sir,” answered the woman, “if it should please God that you grow dim-sighted, you have no place to hang your spectacles on!”
CHARLES II.
Charles the Second laid it down as a rule, that in his convivial parties the king was always absent. Being one night in a select party of this kind, one of his courtiers, who had contributed a good deal to his mirth, ventured to ask him for a place. Charles, though he liked the man as a companion, was yet unwilling to break through a fixed rule; and he therefore quickly replied,—“You may depend on it, I will speak to the king to-morrow about it.”
CHARLES II. UPON HONOUR.
Charles the Second, being at hazard one Twelfth Night at court, with the Duke of Buckingham and others, a well-dressed sharper, who stood behind the Duke’s chair, took the liberty to pick his pocket of a diamond snuff-box, which was very valuable. Just in the instant of his stealing it, the king happened to fix his eyes on him; on which the sharper, with great presence of mind, put his finger up to his nose, thereby insinuating it was done out of fun. The king knew the world too well to be gulled even by such an artifice; but, however, held his tongue. Some time after, the Duke missing his box, his majesty told him the circumstance. “Good God, sire,” says his grace, “why did not your majesty tell me of it in time?” “Oh!” says the king, “I could not do that; I was upon honour.”
DUKE OF NORFOLK.
The first Protestant Duke of Norfolk, carrying the sword of state before James II. to his chapel, stopped at the door, and would go no further. The king said, “Your father would have gone farther:” to which the Duke answered, “Your father would not have gone so far.”
HUGH PETERS.
Hugh Peters, the puritan, preaching on the Devil entering the swine, said,—“My beloved, for conclusion, I shall give three observations on the text; which, for your better remembrance, I shall clothe in three English proverbs. 1. The Devil went from men into swine: he had rather play at small game than stand out. 2. When he possessed them, they ran down a bank into the sea: they must needs go whom the Devil drives. 3. They were all, no less than two thousand, drowned in the sea: the Devil brought his hogs to a fair market.”
HANGING TOGETHER.
Hugh Peters, preaching a sermon to one of the Companies of London, the object of which was to exhort them to love and unity, he concluded by expressing a wish, that they might all join in concord, accord, or any other cord, so that they might all hang together.
SIR ISAAC NEWTON.
Sir Isaac Newton was once riding over Salisbury Plain, when a boy keeping sheep called to him, “Sir, you had better make haste on, or you will get a wet jacket.” Newton, looking round and observing neither clouds nor a speck on the horizon, jogged on, taking very little notice of the rustic’s information. He had made but a few miles, when a storm suddenly arising, drenched him to the skin. Surprised at the circumstance, and determined, if possible, to ascertain how an ignorant boy had attained a precision and knowledge in the weather of which the wisest philosophers would be proud, he rode back, wet as he was. “My lad,” said Newton, “I’ll give thee a guinea, if thou wilt tell me how thou canst foretell the weather so truly.” “Will ye, sir? I will then!” and the boy, scratching his head, and holding out his hand for the guinea; “Now, sir,” having received the money, and pointing to his sheep, “when you see that black ram turn his tail towards the wind, ’tis a sure sign of rain within an hour.” “What!” exclaimed the philosopher, “must I, in order to foretell the weather, stay here and watch which way that black ram turns his tail?” “Yes, sir.” Off rode Newton, quite satisfied with his discovery.
SHERIDAN AND THE STRANGER.
Sheridan was one day accosted by a gentlemanly looking elderly man, who had forgotten the name of the street to which he was going, when the following dialogue ensued:
Stranger. “Sir, I wish to go to a street the name of which I have forgotten; it is a very uncommon name; pray, sir, can you tell me of any such street near?”
Sheridan. “Perhaps, sir, you mean John Street?”
Stranger. “No; it is a street with an unusual name.”
Sheridan. “It can’t be Charles Street?”
Stranger (a little impatiently). “It is not a common name—the most unusual name for a street.”
Sheridan. “Surely, sir, you are not looking for King Street?”
Stranger (growing more impatient). “I tell you, sir, it is a street with a very odd name.”
Sheridan. “Bless me, sir, it is not Queen Street, is it?”
Stranger (evincing some degree of irritation). “Queen Street! no, no! it is a sort of a curious name, I tell you.”
Sheridan. “I wish, sir, I could assist you: let me think. It may be Oxford Street?”
Stranger (getting testy). “Sir, for Heaven’s sake, think; I keep telling you, that it is a street with any thing but a common name; any body knows Oxford Street.”
Sheridan. “Perhaps, the street has no name after all.”
Stranger. “No name, sir! Why, I tell you it has,—confound the name!”
Sheridan. “Really, sir, I am very sorry that I am unable to assist you; but let me suggest Piccadilly.”
The stranger could no longer restrain his irritation, but bounced away, exclaiming, “Oh, damn it, what a thick-headed fellow!” Sheridan, calling to him and bowing, replied, “Sir, I envy your admirable memory;” then walked on, enjoying his joke.[A]
SYMPATHY BETWEEN PRACTICAL JOKERS.
Between Tickell and Sheridan there was a never-ending “skirmish of wit,” both verbal and practical; and the latter kind, in particular, was carried on between them with all the waggery, and, not unfrequently, the malice of school-boys.
On one occasion, Sheridan having covered the floor of a