[Music]

Young Ladies that live in the City, Sweet beautiful proper and Tall; And Country Maids who dabling wades, Here's happy good News for you all: A Lottery now out of hand, Erected will be in the _Strand_; Young Husbands with Treasure, and Wealth out of measure Will fairly be at your Command: _Of her that shall light of a Fortunate Lot,_ _There's Six of three Thousand a Year to be got._

I tell you the Price of each Ticket, It is but a Guinea, I'll vow; Then hasten away, and make no delay, And fill up the Lottery now: If _Gillian_ that lodges in Straw, Shall have the good Fortune to draw A Knight or a 'Squire, he'll never deny her, 'Tis fair and according to Law; _Then come pretty La.s.ses and purchase a Lot,_ _There's Ten of two Thousand a Year to be got._

The number is Seventy Thousand, When all the whole Lot is compleat; Five Hundred of which, are Prizes most rich, Believe me for this is no Cheat: There's Drapers and Taylors likewise, Brave Men that you cannot despise; Come _Bridget_ and _Jenny_, and throw in your Guinea, A Husband's a delicate Prize: _Then come pretty La.s.ses and purchase a Lot,_ _There's Ten of one Thousand a Year to be got._

Suppose you should win for your Guinea, A Man of three Thousand a Year; Would this not be brave; what more would you have?

You soon might in Glory appear: In glittering Coach you may ride, With Lackeys to run by your side; For why should you spare it? Faith win Gold and wear it; Now who would not be such a Bride?

_Then come pretty La.s.ses and purchase a Lot,_ _There's Sixty, Five Hundreds a Year to be got._

Old Widows, and Maids above Forty, Shall not be admitted to draw: There's five Hundred and Ten, as proper young Men, Indeed, as your Eyes ever saw: Who scorns for one Guinea of Gold, To lodge with a Woman that's Old; Young Maids are admitted, in hopes to be fitted, With Husbands couragious and bold: _Then come pretty La.s.ses and purchase a Lot,_ _There are wealthy kind Husbands now, now to be got._

Kind Men that are full of good Nature, The flaxen, the black, and the brown; Both l.u.s.ty and stout, and fit to hold out, The prime and the top of the Town: So clever in every part, They'll please a young Girl to the Heart; Nay, kiss you, and squeese you, and tenderly please you, For Love has a conquering Dart: _Then come pretty La.s.ses and purchase a Lot,_ _There are Wealthy kind Husbands now, now to be got._

Then never be fearful to venture, But Girls bring you Guineas away; Come merrily in, for we shall begin, To draw upon _Valentine's_ Day: The Prizes are many and great, Each Man with a worthy Estate; Then come away _Mary_, _Sib_, _Susan_, and _Sarah_, _Joan_, _Nancy_, and pretty fac'd _Kate_: _For now is the time if you'll purchase a Lot,_ _While Wealthy kind Husbands they are to be got._

Amongst you I know there is many, Will miss of a Capital Prize: Yet nevertheless, no Sorrows express, But dry up your watry Eyes: Young La.s.ses it is but in vain, In sorrowful Sighs to complain; Then ne'er be faint hearted, tho' Luck be departed, For all cannot reckon to gain: _Yet venture young La.s.ses, your Guineas bring in,_ _The Lucky will have the good Fortune to win._

_A_ SONG _on the_ JUBILEE.

[Music]

Come Beaus, Virtuoso's, rich Heirs and Musicians Away, and in Troops to the _Jubile_ jog; Leave Discord and Death, to the College Physicians, Let the Vig'rous wh.o.r.e on, and the impotent Flog: Already _Rome_ opens her Arms to receive ye, And ev'ry Transgression her Lord will forgive ye.

Indulgences, Pardons, and such Holy Lumber, As cheap there is now as our Cabbages grown; While musty old Relicks of Saints without number, For barely the looking upon, shall be shown: These, were you an Atheist, must needs overcome ye, That first were made Martyrs, and afterwards Mummy.

They'll shew ye the River, so Sung by the Poets, With the Rock from whence, Mortals were knockt o'th' Head; They'll shew ye the place too, as some will avow it, Where once a She Pope was brought fairly to Bed: For which, ever since, to prevent Interloping, In a Chair her Successors still suffer a Groping.

What a sight 'tis to see the gay Idol accoutred, With Mitre and Cap, and two Keys by his side; Be his inside what 'twill, yet the Pomp of his outward, Shows _Servus servorum_, no hater of Pride, These Keys into Heav'n will as surely admit ye, As Clerks of a Parish to a Pew in the City.

What a sight 'tis to see the old Man in Procession, Through _Rome_ in such Pomp as here _Caesar_ did ride, Now scattering of Pardons, here Crossing, there Blessing, With all his shav'd Spiritual Train'd-bans by his side; As, _Confessors_, _Cardinals_, _Monks_ fat as Bacons, From Rev'rend _Arch-Bishops_, to Rosie _Arch-Deacons_.

Then for your Diversion the more to regale ye, Fine Music you'll hear, and high Dancing you'll see; Men who much shall out-warble your Famous _Fideli_, And make ye meer Fools, of _Balloon_ and _L'Abbe_: And to shew ye how fond they're to Kiss _Vostre Manos_, Each _Padre_ turns Pimp, all _Nuns_ Courtezana's.

And when you've some Months at old _Babylon_ been-_a_, And on Pardons, and Punks, all your _Rhino_ is spent; And when you have seen all, that there is to be seen-_a_, You'll return not so Rich, tho' as Wise as you went: And 'twill be but small Comfort after so much Expence-_a_, That your Heirs will do just so an Hundred Years hence-_a_.

_A Young Man's_ WILL.

[Music]

A _Young Man_ sick and like to die, His last _Will_ being written found; I give my _Soul_ to _G.o.d_ on high, And my _Body_ to the Ground: Unto some _Church-men_ do I give, Base Minds to greedy Lucre bent; _Pride_ and _Ambition_ whilst they live, _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.

_Item._ Poor folks _brown Bread_ I give, And eke _bare Bones_, with hungry Cheeks; _Toil_ and _Travel_ whilst they live, And to feed on _Roots_ and _Leeks_: _Item._ To Rich Men I bestow, High _Looks_, low _Deeds_, and Hearts of Flint; And that themselves they seldom know, _By this_, &c.

Proud stately _Courtiers_ do I _Will_, Two Faces in one Head to wear, For Great Men _Bribes_, I think most fit, _Pride_ and _Oppression_ through the Year: _Tenants_ I give them leave to lose, And _Landlords_ for to raise their _Rent_; _Rogues_ to Fawn, Collogue and glose, _By this_, &c.

_Item._ To _Soldiers_ for their _Fees_, I give them _Wounds_ their Bodies full; And for to beg on bended Knees, With Cap in Hand to every _Gull_: _Item_. I will poor _Scholars_ have, For all their Pains and Travel spent: _Raggs_, _Jaggs_, and _Taunts_ of every Knave, _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.

To _Shoemakers_ I grant this Boon, Which _Mercury_ gave them once before; Altho' they earn two Pence by Noon, To spend e'er Night two Groats and more: And _Blacksmiths_ when the Work is done, I give to them incontinent, To drink two Barrels with a Bun, _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.

To _Weavers_ swift, this do I leave, Against that may beseem them well: That they their good Wives do deceive, Bring home a Yard and steal an Ell: And _Taylors_ too must be set down, A _Gift_ to give them I am bent; To cut four Sleeves to every Gown, _By this_, &c.

To Tavern haunters grant I more, Red Eyes, Red Nose, and Stinking Breath; And Doublets foul with drops before, And foul Shame until their _Death_: And _Gamesters_ that will never leave, Before their Substance be all spent; The Wooden _Dagger_ I bequeath, _By this_, &c.

To common Fidlers I _Will_ that they, Shall go in poor and thread-bare Coats; And at most places where they Play, To carry away more _Tunes_ than _Groats_: To wand'ring _Players_ I do give, Before their _Substance_ be all spent; Proud Silk'n _Beggars_ for to live, _By this_, &c.

To _Wenching_ Smell-smocks give I these, Dead looks, gaunt purrs, and crasy Back; And now and then the foul _Disease_, Such as _Gill_ gave to _Jack_; To _Parretors_ I give them clear, For all their _Toil_ and _Travel_ spent; The _Devil_ away such _Knaves_ to bear, By _this my_ Will _and_ Testament.

I _Will_ that _Cutpurses_ haunt all _Fairs_, And thrust among the thickest Throng; That neither _Purse_ nor _Pocket_ spare, But what they get to bear along: But if they Falter in their Trade, And so betray their bad intent; I give them _Tyburn_ for their share, _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.

To serving Men I give this Gift, That when their Strength is once decay'd; The Master of such Men do shift, As Hors.e.m.e.n do a toothless _Jade_: _Item._ I give them leave to _Pine_, For all their Service so ill spent: And with _Duke Humphry_ for to Dine, _By this_, &c.

_Item._ To _Millers_ I Grant withal, That they Spare, nor Poke, nor Sack; But with _Grist_, so e'er befal, They Grind a Strike, and steal a Peck: I _Will_ that _Butchers_ Huff their Meat, And sell a lump of _Ramish_ scent; For Weather Mutton good and sweet, _By this_, &c.

I _Will_ Ale Wives punish their Guests, With hungry Cakes and little Canns; And Barm their Drink with new found _Yeest_, Such as is made of _Pispot_ Grounds: And she that meaneth for to Gain, And in her House have Money spent, I _Will_ she keep a pretty Punck, _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.

To jealous Husbands I do grant, Lack of Pleasure, want of Sleep; That Lanthorn Horns they never want, Tho' ne'er so close their Wives they keep: And for their Wives, I _Will_ that they, The closer up that they are pent; The closer still they seek to Play, _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.

For Swearing _Swaggerers_ nought is left, To give them for a parting Blow; But leaving off of d.a.m.ned Oaths, And that of them I will bestow: _Item._ I give them for their Pain, That when all Hope and Livelihood's spent, A Wallet or a Hempen Chain, _By this_ &c.

Time and longest Livers do I make, The Supervisor of my _Will_: My Gold and Silver let them take, That will dig for't in _Malvein_ Hill.

_A New_ SONG, _Sung at the Playhouse. By Mr._ DOGGET.

[Music]

In the Devil's Country there lately did dwell, A crew of such Wh.o.r.es as was ne'er bred in h.e.l.l, The Devil himself he knows it full well, _Which no Body can deny, deny;_ _Which no Body can deny._

There were Six of the Gang, and all of a Bud, Which open'd as soon as got into the Blood, There are five to be hang'd, when the other proves good, _Which no Body_, &c.

But it seems they have hitherto sav'd all their Lives, Since they cou'd not live honest, there's four made Wives, The other two they are not Marry'd but Sw----s, _Which no Body_, &c.

The Eldest the Matron of t'other Five Imps, Though as Chast as _Diana_, or any o'th' Nymphs, Yet rather than Daughter shall want it, she Pimps, _Which no Body_, &c.

d.a.m.n'd Proud and Ambitious both Old and the Young, And not fit for honest Men to come among, A d.a.m.n'd Itch in their Tail, and a sting in their Tongue, _Sing tantara rara Wh.o.r.es all, Wh.o.r.es all,_ _Sing tantara rara Wh.o.r.es all._