Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 1.djvu/452

 "damn your nose — gentemque togatam, and the whole race of chaplains." Swift then took up his hat and walked off, leaving lord Pembroke and the rest of the party laughing heartily at the droll scene which had just passed.

Now I am upon the subject of his punning, I cannot refrain from mentioning an excellent one which he made at my father's, in a happy application of one of Virgil's lines. It happened that a lady whisking about her long train, which was then the fashion, threw down and broke a fine Cremona fiddle belonging to him; upon which Swift cried out —

Mantua væ miseræ nimium vicina Cremonæ!

Once in the country he was making inquiries about a gentleman in the neighbourhood, with whom the others did not seem to associate, and asked the reason of it. They said he was a very stupid fellow. Swift some time after, in one of his rides, overtook him, and entered into conversation with him by praising his horse, saying, among other things, that he carried a very fine tail; to which the gentleman replied, "and yours carries the best head in Ireland." The dean, on his return, related this as a very clever saying, and wondered how they could account the author of it stupid. One of the company, when he next saw the gentleman, told him how much the dean was pleased with what he had said to him. "Why, what was it," said the other? "You told him that his horse carried the best head in Ireland." "And so he does," replied the gentleman (utterly unconscious of his having said a good thing) " I think I never saw a horse with a finer forehead." When