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p. 394 Sice. Six. The number six at dice. p. 394 it sings Sawny. Saunie's Neglect. This popular old Scotch song is to be found, with a tune, on p. 317, Vol. I, D'Urfey's Wit and Mirth; or, Pills to Purge Melancholy . It had previously been given in Wit and Drollery . It commences thus:
It may be surmised that Thomas D'Urfey stood no chance of winning any of those prizes, for he was too much of a Tory to please the Kit-Cat members. Hence the story which tells how the members requested Mr. Cat to bake some of his pies with D'Urfey's works under them.
This I will take upon me to say, they cannot do a kindness, to a more diverting companion, or a more chearful, honest, good-natur'd man. The same author, Numb. 82. puts his readers in mind when D'Urfey's benefit came on, of some other circumstances favourable to him. 'The Plotting Sisters, says he, is this day to be acted for the benefit of the author, my old friend Mr. D'Urfey.
In a play of D'Urfey's, now forgotten, called the 'Western Lass, which part she acted, she transformed her whole being, body, shape, voice, language, look, and features, into almost another animal, with a strong Devonshire dialect, a broad, laughing voice, a poking head, round shoulders, an unconceiving eye, and the most bediz'ning, dowdy dress that ever cover'd the untrain'd limbs of a Joan Trot.
So that if Mr. Collier should make a Collection of D'urfey's Works, who is there that wou'd become a Convert? And who wou'd turn Parson to be drunk and beat the Watch? Or who wou'd be proud of an Imitation of any of his Heroes? Has any Body brought themselves under his Character, in hopes to recommend them to the World?
The gentleman I am speaking of, has laid obligations on so many of his countrymen, that I hope they will think this but a just return to the good service of a veteran Poet. 'I myself, remember king Charles the IId. leaning on Tom D'Urfey's shoulder more than once, and humming over a song with him.
And when they complained that the pies were not baked enough, the pastrycook made the retort that D'Urfey's works were so cold that the dough could not bake for them. For all their devotion to literature, the Kit-Cats did not forget to eat, drink, and be merry. That their gatherings were convivial enough is illustrated by the anecdote of Sir Samuel Garth, physician to George I as well as poet.
Besides, the old song, though now pretty well modernised into the Scottish language, is, originally, and in the early editions, a bungling low imitation of the Scottish manner, by that genius, Tom D'Urfey; so has no pretensions to be a Scottish production. There is a pretty English song by Sheridan in the "Duenna," to this air, which is out of sight superior to D'Urfey's. It begins,
For the verb vide D'Urfey's Madam Fickle , Act v, I, where Zechiel cries to his brother: 'Banter him, banter him, Toby. 'Tis a conceited old Scarab, and will yield us excellent sport go play upon him a little exercise thy Wit. cf. Swift, Apology , Talke of a Tub: 'Where wit hath any mixture of raillery, 'tis but calling it banter, and the work is done.
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