But oft oppress'd with Grief and pensive Care, I to enjoy such Happiness despair.
O wretched me! Celestial Pow'rs above!
O mighty Jove! what must I die for Love!
If you're inclin'd to cure the Wound you gave, Come quick, relieve, and save me from the Grave.
_Her Answer._
Unhappy Youth, pray trouble not your Mind, By mighty _Jove_, I swear I will be kind.
I swear by _Venus_, and the Pow'rs above; } By _Cupid_'s Darts, and all the Joys of Love, } To thee my Youth, my Swain, I'll ever constant prove. }
_Bog-House at Epsom-Wells._
Privies are now Receptacles of Wit, } And every Fool that hither comes to sh----t, } Affects to write what other Fools have writ. }
_Rain-Deer, Bishop-Stafford._
Hail charming Maid! hail my enchanting Fair, Thy Beauty's such, what Mortal can forbear?
Have Pity on a Youth's despairing Cries, Compa.s.sion shew, or else your Lover dies.
O that I but one good Enjoyment had!
Grant it me soon, or else I shall go mad.
_Her Answer._
Alas! poor Youth, if you go mad for Love, Seek your Relief from mighty _Jove_ above.
No Cure I have, my Body's chaste and pure; A wandering Youth I never can endure.
_Pancras-Wells._
I have had a Cl - p, By a sad Mishap; But the Doctor has cur'd it, And I've endur'd it.
The B - ch that gave it me, She is gone over Sea.
G - d d - n her A - se, That fir'd my T - se.
_Peac.o.c.k, Northampton._
I love dear _Betty_, and _Betty_ loves me; And it shall not be long before marry'd we be.
_Underwritten._
If you must make a Rhime upon your La.s.s, I'll make another----Rhimer kiss my A - se.
_Boar's-Head, Smithfield._
D - n their Doublets, and confound their Breeches, There's none besh - t the Wall but Sons of B - ches.
May the _French_ P - - x, and the D - - vil take 'em all, That besh - t their Fingers, and wipe them on the Wall.
_Lambeth-Wells Bog-House._
_Supposed to be wrote by one who had a great Antipathy to Tobacco._
This is a Place that's very fitting, To p - - ss, and f - - rt, to smoke, and sh - - t in.
_From a Window in a Great House in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields._
A good Wife is like a Turtle that bills and cooes, and turns up her T----l to her Husband.
_Kings-Head, Beaconsfield._
In Spring the Fields, in Autumn Hills, I love; At Morn the Plains, at Noon the shady Grove; But _Delia_ always, forc'd from _Delia_'s Sight, Nor Fields, nor Hills, nor Plains, nor Groves delight.
_At the same Place, 1731._
Love in Fashion, is Copulation.
_Le H----p._
_At the same Place._
The Brave and Wise would never hug The chearful Bottle and the Jug, Were not good Liquor in its Season, An useful Spur to human Reason.
_Probatum est_, W. T.
_At Rumford, in a Window._
There's Nothing sure can vex a Woman more Than to hear the Feats of Love, and be Threescore.
_Written on a Looking-Gla.s.s, in the Rue Boucharie, Paris._
Le Mond est plein de fous, & qui n'en veut point voir, Doit demeurer tout seul, & ca.s.ser son meroir.
The World is full of Fools and a.s.ses, To see them not---- retire and break your Gla.s.ses.
_Oxon, in a Bog-House._
With such violent Rage, Sir _John_ did engage With the Damsel which he laid his Leg on, That his Squire, who stood near, Swore it look'd like the Spear Of St. _George_ in the Mouth of the Dragon.