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_Devil-Tavern_, 1721.
Whene'er a Man has gain'd his Ends, He is encompa.s.s'd by his Friends; But when that Man has lost his All, And wants his Friends, he'as none at all.
In gay Prosperity we see, } That ev'ry one will bend the Knee, } And treat you with their Flattery; } But in a contrary State, } When Gaiety's destroy'd by Fate, } The Man they lov'd before, } ---------------- They hate. }
_In a Bog-House over the Water, at the Spread-Eagle in Bunny in Nottinghamshire._
The nicest Maid, with the whitest Rump, May sit and sh----te, and hear it plump.
_On a Gla.s.s Window in the same Place._
For what did _Venus_ love _Adonis_, But for the Gristle, where no Bone is?
_In a Bog-House at the Nag's-Head in Bradmere._
The greatest Monarch, when a fighting, Looks not so great as I, when sh----ting.
_In the same Place._
Such Places as these, Were made for the Ease Of every Fellow in common; But a Person who writes On the Wall as he sh----tes, Has a Pleasure far greater than Woman.
For he's eas'd in his Body, and pleas'd in his Mind, When he leaves both a T----d and some Verses behind.
_Underwritten._
You are eas'd in your Body, and pleas'd in your Mind, That you leave both a T----d and some Verses behind; But to me, which is worst, I can't tell, on my Word, The reading your Verses, or smelling your T----d.
_From a Church Door._
_On an Eminent Physician's being called out of Church._
Whilst holy Prayers to Heaven were made, One soon was heard, and answer'd too, _Save us from sudden Death_, was said, And strait from Church Sir _H----_ withdrew.
_From the Four Swans at Uxbridge._
There's none but the Vicious, or the Base, That false Reports can trouble or disgrace: The virtuous Man must ever stand secure 'Gainst all the Lies which Falsehood can procure: For a sound Mind or Conscience gives a Peace, Which to Eternity can never cease.
_E. K._
_Underwritten._
D----n your conscientious Rascals; there's so few of them in this Age, that a Man appears singular who is govern'd thereby.
Capt. _T. R._ 1730.
_Rumford, on a Window._
How shall the Man e'er turn to dust Who daily wets his Clay.
_Underwritten._
In Dust he may fly } As Fools gallop by, } And no body can say Nay. }
_The galloping Song, from Newmarket, in the Compa.s.s of the Flute._
[Ill.u.s.tration: Music]
Buxom _Joan_ got on a bald Mare; she rid ramping on to The Fair, with a Whip and Spur.
Such jogging, such flogging, Such splashing, such dashing, was ne'er seen there.
Jolly _Tom_, cry'd out as she Come, thou Monkey Face, Punkey Face, lousey Face, Frouzey Face, hold thy Hand, Make a Stand, thou'lt be down.
No Sooner _Tom._ spoke, but Down comes _Joan_, with her Head and b.u.m up and down, So that her A----se was shown.
Bald Mare ran galloping all the Way home.
_Temple, in a Gentleman's Chambers._
When _Phillis_ wore her brightest Face, All Men rejoic'd in every Grace: Her Patch, her Mein, her Forward Chin, Cry'd, Gentlemen, Pray who'll come in: But now her Wrinkles are come on her, } All Men who ever were upon her, } Cry out, a Fart upon her Honour. }
_C. M._
_On a Wall, at a School in Norwich. In Dog Latin._
_J. Jackson_ currit _plenum sed_ Et laesit meum _magnum ad_.
_R. L._
_The English Translation, Word for Word._
_J. Jackson_ run _full-b.u.t.t_, And hurt my _Great Toe_.
_Written on the Door of two celebrated Milliners._
Within this Place Lives _Minerva_ and _Grace_, An Angel hangs out at the Door; If you rise in the Night, And call for a Light, Then presently down comes a Wh----.
_Angel, at Marlborough. Upon Miss M - - k._