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TRIFLES.
Consultation of Four Physicians upon a Lord that was dying[1].
First Doctor.
IS his Honor sic? Præ lætus felis pulse. It do es beat veris loto de.
Second Doctor. No notis as qui cassi e ver fel tu metri it. Inde edit is as fastas an alarum, ora fire bellat nite.
Third Doctor. It is veri hei!
Fourth Doctor. Noto contra dictu in my juge mentitis veri loto de. Itis as orto maladi sum callet. [Here e ver id octo reti resto a par lori na mel an coli post ure.]
First Doctor. It is a me gri mas I opi ne.
- ↑ As Swift did not partake of the usual amusements of the world, for recreation, he indulged himself in various sports and whims of fancy. Among others he was fond of a new species of composition, which consisted all of Latin words, but by allowing for false spelling, and running the words into each other, the sentences would contain good sense in English. It was thought some specimens of this singular mode of writing would not be unacceptable to the reader. I shall here point out, in the two first sentences, the manner in which they are to be read into English.
First Doctor.
Is his honour sick? Pray let us feel his pulse. It does beat very slow to day.
Second Doctor. No no 'tis as quick as I ever felt; you may try it. Indeed it is as fast as an alarum, or a fire bell at night, &c.
Second
