The Merry-Thought | Page 8

catterwauling Puss.
Hampton-Court, at the Mitre.
A Ramp of very noted Name, I need not say, for all Men know her
Fame, Lascivious, as the human Race could be, She could not see a
Man, but fell in Extasy.
On a dyer's Sign at Southwark.
I die to live, I live to die, And hope to live eternally.
At the Star at Coventry.
A poor Woman was ill in a dangerous Case, She lay in, and was just as
some other Folks was: By the Lord, cries She then, if my Husband e'er
come, Once again with his Will for to tickle my Bum, I'll storm, and I'll
swear, and I'll run staring wild; And yet the next Night, the Man got
her with Child.
S. M. 1708.
By Desire not to insert the Place.
What care I for Mistress May'ress; She's little as the Queen of Fairies:

Her little Body like my Thumb, Is thicker far than other some; Her
Conscience yet would stretch so wide; } Either on this, or t'other Side, }
That none could tell when they did ride. }
Underwritten.
Swim for thy Life, dear Boy, for I can feel neither Bottom nor Sides.
In Pencil upon a Wall in a Tavern near Covent-Garden.
I become all Things to all Men, to gain some, or I must have starved.
Moll. Friskey.
Star-Inn at Coventry.
Molly the gay, the black, the friskey, Would kiss like any wanton
Gipsey; Nor was her Mouth alone the Case, A Man of Worth might kiss
her A----se.
At a Tavern at the Royal Exchange.
I've now a Coach and Six before me, Each female court'sies to adore
me: But from my dearest I can't part, Without returning her my Heart:
Tell her I am gone a Month or longer, While she may gain more Love,
and I grow stronger.
S. M. Oct. 17. 1720.
From a Tavern in Fleet-Street.
I'll drink like Bacchus, and I'll fight like Mars, The Kind I'll love, the
Cross may kiss my A - - se.
In the same Room in a Woman's Hand.
Since cruel Fate has robb'd me of the Youth, For whom my Heart had
hoarded all its Truth, I'll ne'er love more, dispairing e'er to find, Such
Constancy and Truth amongst Mankind.

Feb. 18, 1725.
Underwritten.
I kiss'd her the next Night, and she's one of the Walkers Family.
Feb. 18. 1725.
Dublin in a Window in Castle-Street.
O mortal Man that's made of Clay, Is here to-Morrow, and is gone to
Day.
In a Bog-House at Hampstead.
There's Nothing foul that we commit, But what we write, and what we
sh - - t.
Three-Pigeons at Brentford.
Wer't not for Whims, Candles, and Carrots Young Fellows Things
might ride in Chariots.
Tom Long, July 17.
Underwritten.
Heaven for all those Helps to Nature, Or else poor P---- could get no
Quarter.
Letter on a Window at Stony-Stratford, to Miss Mary V - - d - - le.
We shall B in better Q, When U have I, and I have U.
T. M. 1720
From a Window in Hell, near Westminster-Hall.
Old Orpheus tickled his Harp so well, That he tickled Eurydice out of

Hell, With a Twing come Twang, and a Twing come Twang; but, Some
say Euridice was a Scold Therefore the Devil of her took hold, With a
Twing come Twang, &c.
S. S. 1714.
Underwritten.
If my Wife had been e'er in the Devil's Hands, } You know it would
loose all other Bands, } And I should been pleased with House and
Lands. }
F. R. 1718.
PREFACE.
From a Paper found in the Street at Twelve at Night, 1708. near
Covent-Garden. Argument concerning a Greek Opera that was to have
been set on Foot, when People liked to see and hear Operas first in
Italian.
As Languages are introduced among us Christian People daily that we
do not understand, by Way of Italian Opera, &c. why may we not
entertain the Publick with a little Greek, as natural as Pigs squeak.--
And for Latin, 'tis no more dificile, Than for a Blackbird 'tis to whistle.
Hud.
I love dearly to quote my Authors.
I have been with both the Play-Houses, and one says d----n it, it won't
do; and t'other says, Z----ds it will not take; then says I to myself, I'll
have a Greek Opera, by G - - d; and with this Resolution I set about it,
and made a Specimen, and so went with it in a Chair to the
Opera-House, to give it the better Grace. But that would not do neither;
for one did not understand Greek; nor t'other did not understand Greek;
and Italian was all in Vogue: And I did not understand that; and so we
could make no Bargain,