PART I.

_Madam Catherine Cadiere's Case opened, against Father Girard's powerful Injunction. In a Window at Maidenhead._

My dearest _Kitty_, says the _Fryar_, } Give me a holy Kiss, and I'll retire, } Which Kiss set all his Heart on Fire. } He had no Rest that Night, but often cry'd, } Z - - - nds, my dear _Kitty_ shall be occupy'd; } I'll lay aside my Rank, I will not be deny'd. } To-morrow I'll try her, Said the Fryar; And so he went to her, And did undoe her, By making her cry out for Mercy; And then he kiss'd her _Narsey-Parsey_.

_L. F._ 1731.

_Underwritten._

Dear _Kitty_ could never have suffered Disgrace, } If whilst the old Fryar was kissing her A - - - se, } She'd pull'd up her Spirits, and sh - - t in his Face. }

_From an hundred Windows._

That which frets a Woman most, Is when her Expectation's crost.

_Sun behind the Exchange._

_To Mr. _D-----b_, on his being very hot upon Mrs. _N. S._ _1714_._

When the Devil would commit a Rape. He took upon him _Cupid_'s Shape: When he the Fair-One met, at least, They kiss'd and hugg'd, or hugg'd and kiss'd; But she in amorous Desire, Thought she had _Cupid_'s Dart, But got Hell Fire, And found the Smart.

_N. B._ And then the Surgeon was sent for.

_From the White-Hart at Acton._

_Kitty_ the strangest Girl in Life, For any one to make a Wife; Her Constitution's cold, with warm Desire, She kisses just like Ice and Fire.

_At the Bear-Inn, Spinham-Land._

E V A N K it is a Word of Fame, Spell it backwards, 'tis your Name.

_S. T._ 1710.

Find it out if 'tis your Name,

_R. M._

_At the Cranes, Edgeworth._

As I walk'd by myself, I said to myself. And myself said again to me: Look to thyself, Take Care of thyself, For no Body cares for thee. Then I myself Thus answer'd myself, With the self-same Repartee: Look to thyself, Or look not to thyself, 'Tis the self-same Thing to me.

_John Careless._

_On a Frier who cuckol'd a Dyer at Roan in France; and the Dyer's Revenge in dying him _Blue_._

There was a topping Dyer, Was cuckol'd by a Frier: He saw the Case, How bad it was, And feign'd to take a Journey, Saying softly, Madam, ---- burn ye But stopping by the Way He saw the Priest full gay, Running fast to his House, To tickle his Spouse: 'Tis d----n'd vile, thinks the Dyer, But away went the Frier. I'll be with you anon, Says the Dyer, ---- go on, And as I am blunt, If I find you have don't, I'll dye you for Life, For debauching my Wife; And as good as his Word, For he car'd not a T - - d, Away goes the Dyer, Caught his Wife with the Frier. And led the Monk down, And pickled him soon, In a Dye-Fat of Blue, } Which he ever will rue, } 'Twas so lasting a Hue; } And that spoilt his hunting, A Twelve-month or two, _&c._

_Daniel Cowper, &c._

_On a Tavern Window in Fleet-Street._

_An Address to our present Petit-Maitres._

No more let each fond foppling court a Brother, And quit the Girls to dress for one another; Old maids, in Vengeance to their slighted Beauty, Shall one Day make you wish you'd done your Duty; Thro' H - - ll they drag ye on most aukward Shapes, Yoak'd in their Apron-Strings, and led for Apes.

_Written under a Couple of paultry Verses, in a _Woman_'s Hand._

Immodest Words admit of no Defence; For Want of Decency is want of Sense.

_Eaton, on a Window._

_A Discourse by Numbers and Figures._

When I came to V, We made IV of us II; Yet I took the Right Hand, And then what came of V?

V was lesser by I Then V had been beIV: But an L and some Xes Would make V LXXX.

If V could C as well as I, 'Tis a hundred to one, but I comply; Then V and I together fix, I'll stand by V, and make V VI.

_On a Window in Mainwaring's Coffee-House, Fleet-Street._

_Omnia Vincit Amor._

If Kisses were the only Joys in Bed, Then Women would with one another wed.

_At the Same Place._

Let _Jove_ his _Juno_, and his _Nectar_ boast, Champain's my Liquor, and Miss _K - - - g_ my Toast.

_Rumford on a Window._

When full of Pence, I was expensive, And now I've none, I'm always pensive.

_Underwritten._

Then be at no Expence And you'll have no Suspence.

_W. T._

_Dean's Yard, Westminster, in Charcoal, on a Wall, a Verse to be read upwards or downwards or arsey-versey the same._

S A T O R A R E P O T E N E T O P E R A R O T A S

_Maidenhead, in a Window._

_In a Window, In a Window, I saw a Cat lick her Ear in a Window._

Nay, Sir, ---- she cry'd, I'll swear I won't. I vow I never yet have don't! Lord! Pray, Sir, do not press me so; I'll call for all the Folks below. Good Lord! what is't? You're very rude; And then she acted like a Prude. And then, Like Birds of a Feather, They flock'd together.

_S. T._

_Rebuses on Drinking-Glasses, at a private Club of Gentlemen._

_Miss Wall-sing-ham._

What encloses a Plat, as I wish her dear Arms Had my Body encompass'd, with Nightingale's Charms, And the Leg of an Hog, gives my dearest her Name. Her Beauties so great set my Heart on a Flame.

_Rebus on Miss Nick-ells._

Take the Devil's short Name, And much more than a Yard, You've the Name of the Dame I shall ever regard.

_Rebus on Miss S. Bell._

The greatest Noise on Sundays made, Tells us her Name in Masquerade, Whom I must kiss, ---- or be a _Shade_.

_Rebus for Miss M. Cotton._

One of the softest Things in Nature, Beareth the Name of my dear Creature.

_Rebus on Miss Anne Oliv-er._

A Pickle of excellent Growth, } And to *_Sin_ against the Truth, } Tells the Name of a Virgin of Beauty and Youth. }

* i.e. _To Err_.

_Rebus on Miss Par-sons._

A famous Old Man of Old Time, } And his Children, the Males of his Line, } Give the Name of my Beauty Divine. }

_Rebus on Miss Har-ring-ton._

The Pleasure of the Sportsman's Chase; The Pledge in Matrimonial Case, With Twenty Hundred Weight beside, Name her I wish to make my Bride.

_At Epsom on a Window._

When my brisk Lass Upon the Grass, Will sport, and _Give_ her Love; She'll wink and pink, Till she can't think; That's Happiness, by _Jove!_

_Per Jovem Juro._ J. M.

_The following is in a _Caberet_ Window at _Paris_, to be read forwards and backwards the same._

Roma tibi subito motibus ibit amor.

_Underwritten._

Le Diable t'emporte.

_The Three Last Words, the Criticks tell us, spells in English, _The Devil take you_._

_At the same Place._

_Chagrin come le Diable:_ For a Girl has spoil't my _Bauble_.

_A Heathen Greek Line from a Wall at Westminster._

_Souldramaton, Acapon, Alphagoose, Pastiveneson._

_In English._

Shoulder of Mutton, a Capon, half a Goose, Pasty of Venison.

_In Dog-Latin at the same Place._

_O mirum Fartum, Perigrinum Gooseberrytartum._

_N.B._ _Fartum_ is the only _Latin_ Word for Pudding: And as far as I can trace it amongst the Antients, there is no _Latin_ for a Gooseberry-Tart; so that the Lad who writ it, had no need to Apologize for making a Word or two: As for _Fartum_, 'tis allow'd in our Times; for we say _Fartum pistum_, is a _baked Pudding_; and _Fartum coctum_ is a _boiled Pudding_: And if the Boy loved these Things, what is it to us; let every one mind his own Business.

_Brentford at the Red-Lion, the Great Room._

Says Sir _John_ to my Lady, as together they sat, Shall we first go to Supper, or do you know what? Dear Sir _John_, (with a Smile,) return'd the good Lady, Let us do you know what, for Supper's not ready.

_Bridgnorth, at the Crown._

_Jenny_ had got a Cl - p, Which was my Mishap: But Doctor _R----_ set me right, And I'm now in good Plight.

January 30. 1720. J. W.

_At the Swan at Chelsea, in one of the Summer-Houses; supposed to be written by One who lost his Estate in the South-Sea Year._

Damn the Joke Of all the Folk: I've lost my Estate; And all Men I hate: I shall look through a Grate, For I see 'tis my Fate. The Devil take the Bubbles, I'm in a Pack of Troubles,

S. B. 1721.

_Under this is wrote,_

Happy's the Man That well could scan, Which way his Fortune led him: I have got what he lost, I am gay while he's cross'd, So adieu to good Mr. _B----n_.

Ha! ha! ha! 1722.

_Upon a Clock in Tavistock-Street, Covent-Garden, 1712._

I have no Legs, And yet I go and stand: And when I stand, I lie; Witness my Hand;

_Mentiri non est meum._

_From a Window at Spring-Gardens, Vaux-Hall._

Exil'd from _London_, happy could I live, Were this my Paradise, and this my _Eve_.

_At the Cardinal's-Cap at Windsor._

_Michael Hunt's Health._

Here's a Health to _Mich. Hunt_, And to _Mich. Hunt_'s Breeches; And why may not I scratch _Mich. Hunt_, When _Mich. Hunt_ itches.

The Clock goes as swift as the Hours that fly, When together in Bed are my _Chloe_ and I: But when she is gone, I bemoan my hard Fate, It is Millions of Years till she knocks at my Gate.

_Underwritten._

D--n the Clock for its Inconstancy; to give me Moments and Ages in the same Time! O my _Chloe_!

R. W. 1720.

_From a Window in Chancery-Lane._

Here did I lay my _Celia_ down; I got the P - x, and she got half a Crown.

W. T. 1719.

_Underwritten._

Give and take; Weight for Inches.

S. R.

_From a Bog-House at Hampton-Court, supposed to be written by a violent Lover._

Oh! that I were a T - - - d, a T - - - d, Hid in this secret Place, That I might see my _Betsy_'s A----, Though she sh - - t me in my Face.

R. M. 1703.

_Written under this in a Woman's Hand._

'Tis Pity but you had your Wish.

E. W.

_Nottingham, at the Castle: _Jack N----_ cured._

The Five and twentieth Day of _July_, When _Jack_ with Liquor grew unruly, In comes Sir _Richard_ with a Quart, And drank him till he broke his Heart; So down dropp'd _Jack_ Upon his Back, And lay, Till Day, And went away.

R. C. July 26. 1716.

_Catherine-Wheel, High-Wickham, upon a Window._

_Salley_'s my Toast from Head to Tail; Not half so good is Toast and Ale.

_J. S._ Esq; of _Oriel-College, Oxon._

_Three-Pigeons, Brentford, in a Window._

How vain the Hopes of Woman's Love, While all their Hearts inconstant prove; Nor _M - - - - k_, nor will _Dolly_ come; Nor _Sukey_ with her thumping B--m; Nor _Molly_ with her flaring Eyes; Nor _Nancy_ with her bouncing Thighs: If one don't come, my Curse is this, That they may never sh - - t nor p - - ss.

Six in the Morning, R. R. of _Oxford_.

_Three-Pigeons, Brentford, upon a Drinking-Glass._

Dear charming lovely _Nancy L-- --r_, Thou art my only Toast, I swear.

T. T. from _Coventry_, _Feb._ 13. 1716.

_On another at the same Place._

My dearest _Sukey Percivall_, Is all my Toast, and that is all.

Captain _F----l_, _July_ 4. 1716.

_Red-Lion, at Southwell, in a Window._

_Clarinda_ lay here With a young Cavalier; With her Heart full of Fear, For her Husband was near.

L. L. _Feb._ 2. 1728.

_Written under._

'Tis very true; for we saw _Rem-in-Re_ through the Key-Hole. S. M. } J. M. } _Feb._ 3. 1728. R. H, }

_Written under._

If the Husband had come, And had seen his Wife's B - - m, He'd a known by her Looks, She'd been playing ---- At Hoy Gammer Cooks.

S. B. _March_ 3. 1728.

_Windsor, the White-Hart, in a Window._

Now is my latest Guinea chang'd, And gone where it was used to range: When that was broke, it broke my Heart; For now for ever we must part, Unless I boldly meet it on the Road, And bid the Porter give it me, by G - d. And so I'll do; _Tom. Stout_ Will see it out, _Feb._ 2.

_Underwritten._

Win it and take it, says Captain _Hector_: I defy the bold Robber; and I have an hundred Guineas that I shall travel with to-morrow.

_Feb._ 16.

_At the Cardinal's-Cap In Windsor, on a Window._

_J. F._ is fifteen, and so charming her Mien, } Her Eyes are like Brilliants, her Looks are serene, } And one Kiss from her Lips is worth ten from a Queen. }

_Tom. Fool_, 1726.

_At the same Place, on the Wall._

Never had Mortal greater Wit Than I who ever wanted it; But now my Wants have made me scrawl, And rhyme and write the Devil and all.

_J. Forbes_, 1720.

_On a Summer-House near Farnham in Surrey._

I, C, U, B Y Y for me.

J. S.

_The Reading of it is supposed to be, _viz.__

I see you be Too wise for me.

_Star-Inn, Coventry._

Tell me where is Fancy bred? } In the Heart, or in the Head? } How begot, how nourished? }

_ANSWER_,

Had not _Celia_ come this Way, My Heart would be my own this Day, Fancy's engendered in the Eyes, With gazing fed; and Fancy dies In the same Cradle where it lies; For she's a Wh-re, and I despise.

_R. L. 1710._

_At the Leg-Tavern, Fleet-Street. We suppose an Attempt to put the Lives of Adam and Eve, and their Sons, into Verse._

Mr. _Adam_ he was, the first Man alive, And he married a fine young Gentlewoman, call'd Mrs. _Eve_. And Mr. _Adam_ and Mrs. _Eve_, between them twain Got a pretty little Boy, called Master _Cain_.

_At the Catherine-Wheel at Henley._

_CLELIA's Epitaph, who was slander'd to Death._

Death, to vindicate her Wrongs, Gives her Fame which never dies; So the Life that died with Shame, Lives in Death with glorious Fame.

_R. S._ _Oct. 17. 1708_.

_At the same Place._

Three Bottles of _Burgundy_, and a brisk Lass, With a thousand of _Grigs_, should it e'er come to pass, Would make me behave my self just like an Ass.

_L. M._ of _Oxon_, 1709.

_From the Temple Bog-House._

No Hero looks so fierce in Fight, As does the Man who strains to sh-te.

_From the Crown at Basingstoke, which was, in Ben Johnson's Time, the Sign of the Angel, and then inhabited by Mrs. Hope, and her Daughter Prudence. As Tradition informs us, Ben Johnson was acquainted with the House; and in some Time, when he found strange People there, and the Sign changed, he wrote the following Lines._

When _Hope_ and _Prudence_ kept this House, The _Angel_ kept the Door; Now _Hope_ is dead, And the _Angel_ fled, And _Prudence_ turn'd a Whore.

_From the Bear at Oxford, by a Gentleman who had been affronted at the Angel._

They are all Bears at the _Angel_, And all Angels at the _Bear_.

N.B. _There are very pretty Girls at the _Bear_._

1710. _N. R._

_In a Boghouse at Richmond._

To preserve our good Health, Let us let a good F - - - t; It is better than Wealth, It will comfort your Heart: And when you have done, With the Crack of your B - - m, Bend your Knees, And then squeeze, And something will come, You'll be better, tho' it's not so big as your Thumb.

_G. S._ 1716.

_Crown at Basingstoke._

Says _Nan B----ch_ to Sir _John_, you're a scandalous Villain; D'ye think I would do what I did for a Shilling? In good Truth, says Sir _John_, when I find a Girl willing. Let her take what she finds, and give Willing for Willing. But if you insist upon Money for that, } I need not speak plainer, you know what is what, } I shall always look on you as a money-wise Cat. }

_I. E._ _July_ 17. 1713.

_Beaconsfield in a Window. I forgot the Sign._

Blow me a Kiss, says a Nymph to her Swain, And when I have got it, I'll give it again. The Swain had been working, as sometimes Men do, Till he'd hardly got Breath for to buckle his Shoe; But turning around, he let a great F - - - t, And blow'd her a Kiss _according to Art_.

_B. R._ 1715.

_At the Swan at Chelsea, in a Summer-House Window._

_Jenny_ demure, with prudish Looks, Turns up her Eyes, and rails at naughty Folks; But in a private Room, turns up her lech'rous Tail, And kisses till she's in for Cakes and Ale.

_L. M._ _July_ 17. 1727.

_Mitre, Hampton,_ 1708.

_Celia_, the Joy of all my Parts, I kiss'd, and broke ten thousand Hearts: There's ne'er a Man the Girl will see, But dearest, dearest, dearest me.

_I. H._ Esq; I can boast, The greatest Conquest o'er the greatest Toast.

_Underwritten._

Proud Puppy, who pretend'st to find, } A Woman with a constant Mind, } Surely denotes that Love is blind. } For I have kiss'd her myself, Or else I'm an Elf,

_R. C. Fellow-Commoner, Oxon._

_Spinham-Land; in a Window._

Sir _John_ at this Place } Kiss'd her Grace, } Which he proved Face to Face. }

_C. W._ _April_ 14. 1710.

_Underwritten._

While this was a-doing, Her Maid I was wooing: She did like her Lady, But made me a Daddy.

_J. W._ _April_ 12. 1711.

_Hampton-Court, at the Mitre, 1718._

How have I strove to gain the Fair? } And yet how little does she care? } But leaves me starving with Despair. } 'Tis now full Eight, I fear her Spouse Has given her a Rendezvous.

_Those five Lines were crossed out; but then follows:_

D - - - mn the first Lines, they are not mine, T'abuse a Lady so divine; Altho' I waited for her Hours, I have enjoy'd her lovely Powers, Her Wit, her Beauty, and her Sense, Have fully made me Recompence.

Captain _R. T._ _July_ 10. 1710.

_Underwritten._

Friend Captain T, If thou can'st C, Mind what I have to say to thee, Thy Strumpet Wh--re abominable, Which thou didst kiss upon a Table, Has made thy manly Parts unable.

_Farewel, &c. Z. B._

_Toy, at Hampton-Court_, 1708.

D - - - n _Molley H----ns_ for her Pride, She'll suffer none but Lords to ride: But why the Devil should I care, Since I can find another Mare?

_L. M. August._

_Star-Inn at Coventry, in a Window._

_Letter to _Will S - - - rs_, Esq;_

Dear _Will_, I ever will Be at your will, Whene'er you will, And where you will; So that your Will Be Good-Will, I never will Dispute your Will; But give you Will For Will.

At this Time, At all Times, Or any Time, But such Times As bad Times: For Lemon Thyme, Or Common Time, Or Tripple Time, Are not Times Like your Times And my Times For Pastimes. Then betimes Suit your Time To my Time; Or my Time Is lost Time.

I wish you well, And hope you're well, As I am well; So all's well That ends well; Then farewell.

_R. B. April_ 17. 1714.

_Star at Coventry, on a Window._

Drunk at _Comb-Abbey_, horrid drunk; Hither I came, and met my fav'rite Punk. But she as well might have embrac'd a Log, } All Night I snor'd, and grunted like a Hog, } Then was not I a sad confounded Dog! }

_R. H._

I'll never get drunk again, For my Head's full of Pain, And it grieves me to think, That by Dint of good Drink, I should lie with my _Phillis_ in vain.

_R. H._ 1712.

_Salisbury, the King's Arms, on the Wall._

Here was a 'Pothecary's Wife, Who never lov'd her Spouse in all her Life; And for want of his Handle, Made use of a Candle: ---- Light as a Feather, To bring Things together.

_S. C._ 1710.

_Underwritten._

Thou Fool, 'twas done for want of Sense, I tickl'd her Concupiscence: And that is enough to save her Credit.

_S. B._ 1712.

_Under this is wrote._

From the Story above, The Girls that love, Have learn'd the Use of Candles; And since that, by _Jove_, And the God of Love, We have lost the Use of Handles.

_W. S----pe_, _Feb._ 2. 1714.

_Stockbridge, at the Kings-Head._

_Salley Stukely_ is the prettiest Girl in _England_, I wish I was to play a Game with her single-hand.

_R. S._

_Windsor, at the Cardinal's-Cap._

Now my Sun is retired, My Heart is all fired; My _Sylvia_'s lost And I am toss'd, Into Love's Flames, What shall I do to gain her? Sure something must restrain her, Or else she'd come. Then I'm undone. Help me, dear _Cupid_, Or I shall grow stupid; And if you won't help me, Then _Bacchus_ protect me.

_R. M._ 1709.

_Greyhound, at Maidenhead._

Dear _Doll_ is a Prude, And I tumbled her down; And I tickled her Fancy For half a Crown.

_R. M----r_, _July_ 17. 1714.

_At the Same Place._

_CHLOE's Character._

Her Voice is as clear as the Stream; Her Character light as the Sun; Her Dealings are hard as a Stone; But her Promise as sure as a Gun.

_A. P - - pe_, 1712.

_At the same Place._

A Hog, a Monkey, and an Ass, } Were here last Night to drink a Glass, } When all at length it came to pass, } That the Hog and the Monkey, Grew so drunkey, That both were ready to kiss the A - - se of _Tom. Dingle_.

_April_ 17. 1710.

_At the White-Hart, Windsor._

How, do I fear my Lover will not come; And yet I bid him not: But should he come, Then let him read ----

Let _Man - - r - - ing_ love on, I will requite thee, Taming my wild Heart to thy loving Hand. If thou dost love, my Kindness shall incite thee, To bind our Loves up in a holy Band.

_Anne Oph - - - lia_, 1708.

_Salisbury, at the King's-Arms; seemingly to give the Reason why Miles seem shorter in one Place than another._

When I set out from _London_, I tramp'd on the Way, } I was brisk, and my Courage and Heart was full gay; } So I fancy'd my Journey was nothing but Play, } But as I went forward, a Day or two longer, } The Miles seem'd more lengthen'd as I grew less stronger, } And I wish'd in this Case to grow younger and younger. }

_S. O._ _Oct._ 17. 1717.

I walk'd all the Way between _London_ and _Exeter_.

_At the Crown at Harlow._

When Daizies gay, and Violets blue, And Cowslips with their yellow Hue, And Lady's Smocks of Silver white, Paint all the Meadows with Delight, Then shall I meet my charming Fair, On ouzy Banks to take the Air; There shall we taste delicious Love, Equal to what is known Above.

_R. T. April_ 14. 1716.

_Upon a Window at the Old Crown at Ware in Hertfordshire; supposed to be wrote by a slighted Lover._

Go you false and faithless Fair, Gods above forbid my Fate, First me Joys you do prepare, Then you Sorrows do create; For 'tis the Nature of your Sex, First to pleasure, then perplex, Happy's he without your Smiles. Ever-blest he lives content; In exorbitant Exiles, Never can his Fate repent; All his Wishes and Desires, To destroy Love's burning Fires.

_R. C. June_ 14. 1731.

_At the Crown at Epping._

Tom. Rudge _won the Hat from_ George Redman.

_April_ 17. 1714.

He lifted with such Might and Strength, As would have hurl'd him twice his Length, And dash'd his Brains (if any) out: But _Mars_ that still protects the stout, In Pudding-Time came to his Aid.

Well done _Tom_; and _George_ was a clever Fellow too. _C. H._ 1714.

_Sent to the Compiler from a Drinking-Glass at Pontack's-Head Tavern in Fleet-Street._

Might all my Wishes but propitious prove, And all my Wants supply'd by mighty _Jove_; Give me dear _W----rs_, and I'll ask no more, But think her dearer than the golden Shower.

_C. M._

_Sent to the Compiler from the same._

_From the Bog-House at Pancras-Wells._

Hither I came in haste to sh-t, But found such Excrements of Wit, That I to shew my Skill in Verse, Had scarcely Time to wipe my A - - se.

_Underwritten._

D----n your Writing, Mind your Sh-t-ng.

_On a Wainscoat, at the Crown at Harlow._

Whilst Lady _Mary_ slept at Ease, Secure from Jealousy and Fleas, Her Lord with vig'rous Love inclin'd, To kiss her Maid, and ease his Mind: The Maiden did not long resist, But gently yielded to be kist; And in the Dance of Lovers move, With sprightly Bounds to shew her Love. When in the Height of am'rous Fire, She cry'd, my Lord, I've one Desire, Tell me, my Peer, tell me, my Lord, Tell me, my Life, upon your Word, Who does it best, my Dame or me? And then she fell in Extasy. My Lord in Fire of his Love, Call'd her his Minion, Turtle Dove; You have the only Art to please, All this he swore upon his Knees: Your Dame is like a Log of Wood, Her Love is never half so good. My Lord, says she, all that I know; For all the World has told me so.

_S----d----rs_, _April_, 1717.

_In a Barber's Shop._

_Will._ ---- always fights with his Cunning, Whilst one Foot stands still, th'other is running.

_At the Sugar-Loaf in Bell-Yard, Temple-Bar._

If _Venus_, or if _Bacchus_, be my Boast, _Claret_'s my Liquor, and Miss C---- my Toast,

_Upon all the Windows of Note on the Roads._

If one Stone splits the most obdurate Glass, Why needs there two to split a pretty L--ss.

_Underwritten._

Thou Fool, I say, you never yet did know, A L--ss was split without the Use of two.

_R. F._

_Underwritten._

Nor that neither.

_M. L._

_From a Bog-House at Hampstead._

Hard Stools proceed from costive Claret; Yet mortal Man cannot forbear it. So Childbed-Women, full of Pain, Will grunt and groan, and to't again.

_At Hampstead, in a Window._

Gammer _Sprigins_ had gotten a Maidenhead, And for a Gold Guinea she brought it to Bed; But I found by embracing that I was undone; 'Twas a d - - - n'd p-ck-y Wh--re, just come from _London_.

_R. L._ 1710.

_A strange Thing written upon a Glass Window in Queen Elizabeth's Time._

I, C, S, X, O, Q, P, U.

This must be left to the Decypherers.

_Pancras Bog-House._

If Smell of T----d makes Wit to flow, Laud! what would eating of it do.

_From the Temple Bog-House._

If you design to sh--te at Ease, Pray rest your Hands upon your Knees. And only give a gentle squeeze.

_FINIS._

_N.B._ A Third Part of this Work being in the Press, we intreat our kind Correspondents would be speedy in sending their Letters to J. ROBERTS.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Errata:

Editor's Introduction (modern):

they are just as likely as their brethren _text reads "brethern"_ [Footnote 12: ... graffiti printed in _The Merry-Thought_ ...] _text reads "Marry-Thought"_

Primary Text:

Title Page

Bethleham-Wall, Moor-Fields. _spelling unchanged_

Dedication

what sublime Thoughts you may chance to meet with _text reads "my chance"_

Body Text

Beareth the Name of my dear Creature. _text reads "Beareththe" without space_ supposed to be written by a violent Lover _text reads "writeen" Nor _M - - - - k_, nor will _Dolly_ come; _last letter in "M--k" unclear_ _I. E._ _July_ 17. 1713. _numeral "3" unclear_