A Dialogue[1] Between Mad Mullinix And Timothy Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABBCDEEFFBBGHHIIJKLL MMBBNOMMPQRRSSTNUUBB VVNNWWNNQNXYZZA2A2B2 C2D2D2BBNNE2F2YYG2G2 EEMMH2H2I2I2J2J2K2K2 H2H2NNL2L2M2N2BBO2O2 WWNNP2P2Q2Q2R2R2NNNN S2S2WWK2K2F2F2T2T2BB U2U2V2V2WWWWNNW2W2EE BBNNWWBBX2X2Y2Y2WWBB Z2Z2D2D2WWA2A2A3A3B3 B3C3C3VD3H2H2E3E3BBD 2D2F3E2BB3WWE2G3X2X2 B3B3WWNNWWR2H3WWBBNN KKWWMB3MBB3MBBI3I3J3 J3U2U2H2H2BBK3K3L3L3 B3B3SSMMQQNNWWB3B3BB WWP2P2H2H2L3L3H2H2H2 H2K3K3M3M3N3N3B3B3G2 G2KKH2H2O3O3WWO3O3BB| M | A |
| I own 'tis not my bread and butter | B |
| But prithee Tim why all this clutter | B |
| Why ever in these raging fits | C |
| Damning to hell the Jacobites | D |
| When if you search the kingdom round | E |
| There's hardly twenty to be found | E |
| No not among the priests and friars | F |
| T 'Twixt you and me G d d n the liars | F |
| M The Tories are gone every man over | B |
| To our illustrious house of Hanover | B |
| From all their conduct this is plain | G |
| And then | H |
| T G d d n the liars again | H |
| Did not an earl but lately vote | I |
| To bring in I could cut his throat | I |
| Our whole accounts of public debts | J |
| M Lord how this frothy coxcomb frets Aside | K |
| T Did not an able statesman bishop | L |
| This dangerous horrid motion dish up | L |
| As Popish craft did he not rail on't | M |
| Show fire and fagot in the tail on't | M |
| Proving the earl a grand offender | B |
| And in a plot for the Pretender | B |
| Whose fleet 'tis all our friends' opinion | N |
| Was then embarking at Avignon | O |
| M These wrangling jars of Whig and Tory | M |
| Are stale and worn as Troy town story | M |
| The wrong 'tis certain you were both in | P |
| And now you find you fought for nothing | Q |
| Your faction when their game was new | R |
| Might want such noisy fools as you | R |
| But you when all the show is past | S |
| Resolve to stand it out the last | S |
| Like Martin Marall gaping on | T |
| Not minding when the song is done | N |
| When all the bees are gone to settle | U |
| You clatter still your brazen kettle | U |
| The leaders whom you listed under | B |
| Have dropt their arms and seized the plunder | B |
| And when the war is past you come | V |
| To rattle in their ears your drum | V |
| And as that hateful hideous Grecian | N |
| Thersites he was your relation | N |
| Was more abhorr'd and scorn'd by those | W |
| With whom he served than by his foes | W |
| So thou art grown the detestation | N |
| Of all thy party through the nation | N |
| Thy peevish and perpetual teasing | Q |
| With plots and Jacobites and treason | N |
| Thy busy never meaning face | X |
| Thy screw'd up front thy state grimace | Y |
| Thy formal nods important sneers | Z |
| Thy whisperings foisted in all ears | Z |
| Which are whatever you may think | A2 |
| But nonsense wrapt up in a stink | A2 |
| Have made thy presence in a true sense | B2 |
| To thy own side so d n'd a nuisance | C2 |
| That when they have you in their eye | D2 |
| As if the devil drove they fly | D2 |
| T My good friend Mullinix forbear | B |
| I vow to G you're too severe | B |
| If it could ever yet be known | N |
| I took advice except my own | N |
| It should be yours but d n my blood | E2 |
| I must pursue the public good | F2 |
| The faction is it not notorious | Y |
| Keck at the memory of Glorious | Y |
| 'Tis true nor need I to be told | G2 |
| My quondam friends are grown so cold | G2 |
| That scarce a creature can be found | E |
| To prance with me his statue round | E |
| The public safety I foresee | M |
| Henceforth depends alone on me | M |
| And while this vital breath I blow | H2 |
| Or from above or from below | H2 |
| I'll sputter swagger curse and rail | I2 |
| The Tories' terror scourge and flail | I2 |
| M Tim you mistake the matter quite | J2 |
| The Tories you are their delight | J2 |
| And should you act a different part | K2 |
| Be grave and wise 'twould break their heart | K2 |
| Why Tim you have a taste you know | H2 |
| And often see a puppet show | H2 |
| Observe the audience is in pain | N |
| While Punch is hid behind the scene | N |
| But when they hear his rusty voice | L2 |
| With what impatience they rejoice | L2 |
| And then they value not two straws | M2 |
| How Solomon decides the cause | N2 |
| Which the true mother which pretender | B |
| Nor listen to the witch of Endor | B |
| Should Faustus with the devil behind him | O2 |
| Enter the stage they never mind him | O2 |
| If Punch to stir their fancy shows | W |
| In at the door his monstrous nose | W |
| Then sudden draws it back again | N |
| O what a pleasure mixt with pain | N |
| You every moment think an age | P2 |
| Till he appears upon the stage | P2 |
| And first his bum you see him clap | Q2 |
| Upon the Queen of Sheba's lap | Q2 |
| The Duke of Lorraine drew his sword | R2 |
| Punch roaring ran and running roar'd | R2 |
| Reviled all people in his jargon | N |
| And sold the King of Spain a bargain | N |
| St George himself he plays the wag on | N |
| And mounts astride upon the dragon | N |
| He gets a thousand thumps and kicks | S2 |
| Yet cannot leave his roguish tricks | S2 |
| In every action thrusts his nose | W |
| The reason why no mortal knows | W |
| In doleful scenes that break our heart | K2 |
| Punch comes like you and lets a fart | K2 |
| There's not a puppet made of wood | F2 |
| But what would hang him if they could | F2 |
| While teasing all by all he's teased | T2 |
| How well are the spectators pleased | T2 |
| Who in the motion have no share | B |
| But purely come to hear and stare | B |
| Have no concern for Sabra's sake | U2 |
| Which gets the better saint or snake | U2 |
| Provided Punch for there's the jest | V2 |
| Be soundly maul'd and plague the rest | V2 |
| Thus Tim philosophers suppose | W |
| The world consists of puppet shows | W |
| Where petulant conceited fellows | W |
| Perform the part of Punchinelloes | W |
| So at this booth which we call Dublin | N |
| Tim thou'rt the Punch to stir up trouble in | N |
| You wriggle fidge and make a rout | W2 |
| Put all your brother puppets out | W2 |
| Run on in a perpetual round | E |
| To tease perplex disturb confound | E |
| Intrude with monkey grin and clatter | B |
| To interrupt all serious matter | B |
| Are grown the nuisance of your clan | N |
| Who hate and scorn you to a man | N |
| But then the lookers on the Tories | W |
| You still divert with merry stories | W |
| They would consent that all the crew | B |
| Were hang'd before they'd part with you | B |
| But tell me Tim upon the spot | X2 |
| By all this toil what hast thou got | X2 |
| If Tories must have all the sport | Y2 |
| I fear you'll be disgraced at court | Y2 |
| T Got D n my blood I frank my letters | W |
| Walk to my place before my betters | W |
| And simple as I now stand here | B |
| Expect in time to be a peer | B |
| Got D n me why I got my will | Z2 |
| Ne'er hold my peace and ne'er stand still | Z2 |
| I fart with twenty ladies by | D2 |
| They call me beast and what care I | D2 |
| I bravely call the Tories Jacks | W |
| And sons of whores behind their backs | W |
| But could you bring me once to think | A2 |
| That when I strut and stare and stink | A2 |
| Revile and slander fume and storm | A3 |
| Betray make oath impeach inform | A3 |
| With such a constant loyal zeal | B3 |
| To serve myself and commonweal | B3 |
| And fret the Tories' souls to death | C3 |
| I did but lose my precious breath | C3 |
| And when I damn my soul to plague 'em | V |
| Am as you tell me but their May game | D3 |
| Consume my vitals they shall know | H2 |
| I am not to be treated so | H2 |
| I'd rather hang myself by half | E3 |
| Than give those rascals cause to laugh | E3 |
| But how my friend can I endure | B |
| Once so renown'd to live obscure | B |
| No little boys and girls to cry | D2 |
| There's nimble Tim a passing by | D2 |
| No more my dear delightful way tread | F3 |
| Of keeping up a party hatred | E2 |
| Will none the Tory dogs pursue | B |
| When through the streets I cry halloo | B3 |
| Must all my d n me's bloods and wounds | W |
| Pass only now for empty sounds | W |
| Shall Tory rascals be elected | E2 |
| Although I swear them disaffected | G3 |
| And when I roar a plot a plot | X2 |
| Will our own party mind me not | X2 |
| So qualified to swear and lie | B3 |
| Will they not trust me for a spy | B3 |
| Dear Mullinix your good advice | W |
| I beg you see the case is nice | W |
| O were I equal in renown | N |
| Like thee to please this thankless town | N |
| Or blest with such engaging parts | W |
| To win the truant schoolboys' hearts | W |
| Thy virtues meet their just reward | R2 |
| Attended by the sable guard | H3 |
| Charm'd by thy voice the 'prentice drops | W |
| The snow ball destined at thy chops | W |
| Thy graceful steps and colonel's air | B |
| Allure the cinder picking fair | B |
| M No more in mark of true affection | N |
| I take thee under my protection | N |
| Your parts are good 'tis not denied | K |
| I wish they had been well applied | K |
| But now observe my counsel viz | W |
| Adapt your habit to your phiz | W |
| You must no longer thus equip ye | M |
| As Horace says optat ephippia | B3 |
| There's Latin too that you may see | M |
| How much improved by Dr | B |
| I have a coat at home that you may try | B3 |
| 'Tis just like this which hangs by geometry | M |
| My hat has much the nicer air | B |
| Your block will fit it to a hair | B |
| That wig I would not for the world | I3 |
| Have it so formal and so curl'd | I3 |
| 'Twill be so oily and so sleek | J3 |
| When I have lain in it a week | J3 |
| You'll find it well prepared to take | U2 |
| The figure of toupee and snake | U2 |
| Thus dress'd alike from top to toe | H2 |
| That which is which 'tis hard to know | H2 |
| When first in public we appear | B |
| I'll lead the van keep you the rear | B |
| Be careful as you walk behind | K3 |
| Use all the talents of your mind | K3 |
| Be studious well to imitate | L3 |
| My portly motion mien and gait | L3 |
| Mark my address and learn my style | B3 |
| When to look scornful when to smile | B3 |
| Nor sputter out your oaths so fast | S |
| But keep your swearing to the last | S |
| Then at our leisure we'll be witty | M |
| And in the streets divert the city | M |
| The ladies from the windows gaping | Q |
| The children all our motions aping | Q |
| Your conversation to refine | N |
| I'll take you to some friends of mine | N |
| Choice spirits who employ their parts | W |
| To mend the world by useful arts | W |
| Some cleansing hollow tubes to spy | B3 |
| Direct the zenith of the sky | B3 |
| Some have the city in their care | B |
| From noxious steams to purge the air | B |
| Some teach us in these dangerous days | W |
| How to walk upright in our ways | W |
| Some whose reforming hands engage | P2 |
| To lash the lewdness of the age | P2 |
| Some for the public service go | H2 |
| Perpetual envoys to and fro | H2 |
| Whose able heads support the weight | L3 |
| Of twenty ministers of state | L3 |
| We scorn for want of talk to jabber | H2 |
| Of parties o'er our bonnyclabber | H2 |
| Nor are we studious to inquire | H2 |
| Who votes for manors who for hire | H2 |
| Our care is to improve the mind | K3 |
| With what concerns all human kind | K3 |
| The various scenes of mortal life | M3 |
| Who beats her husband who his wife | M3 |
| Or how the bully at a stroke | N3 |
| Knock'd down the boy the lantern broke | N3 |
| One tells the rise of cheese and oatmeal | B3 |
| Another when he got a hot meal | B3 |
| One gives advice in proverbs old | G2 |
| Instructs us how to tame a scold | G2 |
| One shows how bravely Audouin died | K |
| And at the gallows all denied | K |
| How by the almanack 'tis clear | H2 |
| That herrings will be cheap this year | H2 |
| T Dear Mullinix I now lament | O3 |
| My precious time so long mispent | O3 |
| By nature meant for nobler ends | W |
| O introduce me to your friends | W |
| For whom by birth I was design'd | O3 |
| Till politics debased my mind | O3 |
| I give myself entire to you | B |
| G d d n the Whigs and Tories too | B |
Jonathan Swift
(1)
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About A Dialogue[1] Between Mad Mullinix And Timothy
A Dialogue[1] Between Mad Mullinix And Timothy is a poem by Jonathan Swift. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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