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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Merry-Thought: or the Glass-Window and
+Bog-House Miscellany, by Hurlo Thrumbo (pseudonym)
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Merry-Thought: or the Glass-Window and Bog-House Miscellany
+       Parts 2, 3 and 4
+
+Author: Hurlo Thrumbo (pseudonym)
+
+Commentator: Maximillian E. Novak
+
+Contributor: James Roberts
+
+Release Date: February 6, 2007 [EBook #20535]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MERRY-THOUGHT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Louise Hope, David Starner and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+  [Transcriber's Note:
+
+  The texts cited use a variety of long and short dashes, generally with
+  no relationship to the number of letters omitted. For this e-text,
+  short dashes are shown as separated hyphens, while longer dashes are
+  shown as connected hyphens:
+
+      D - - - n _Molley H----ns_ for her Pride.
+
+  Groups of vertical braces } represent a single brace encompassing
+  three-- in one case, four-- rhymed lines.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  The Augustan Reprint Society
+
+  THE
+  MERRY-THOUGHT:
+
+  or, the
+  Glass-Window and Bog-House
+  MISCELLANY.
+
+
+  Parts 2, 3, and 4
+  (1731-?)
+
+
+  _Introduction by_
+  MAXIMILLIAN E. NOVAK
+
+
+  Publication Number 221-222
+  WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY
+  University of California, Los Angeles
+  1983
+
+
+
+
+GENERAL EDITOR
+
+  David Stuart Rodes, _University of California, Los Angeles_
+
+
+EDITORS
+
+  Charles L. Batten, _University of California, Los Angeles_
+  George Robert Guffey, _University of California, Los Angeles_
+  Maximillian E. Novak, _University of California, Los Angeles_
+  Nancy M. Shea, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
+  Thomas Wright, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
+
+
+ADVISORY EDITORS
+
+  Ralph Cohen, _University of Virginia_
+  William E. Conway, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
+  Vinton A. Dearing, _University of California, Los Angeles_
+  Phillip Harth, _University of Wisconsin, Madison_
+  Louis A. Landa, _Princeton University_
+  Earl Miner, _Princeton University_
+  James Sutherland, _University College, London_
+  Norman J. W. Thrower, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
+  Robert Vosper, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
+  John M. Wallace, _University of Chicago_
+
+
+PUBLICATIONS MANAGER
+
+  Nancy M. Shea, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
+
+
+CORRESPONDING SECRETARY
+
+  Beverly J. Onley, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
+
+
+EDITORIAL ASSISTANT
+
+  Frances Miriam Reed, _University of California, Los Angeles_
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+In an address to the American Society for Eighteenth Century Studies at
+the 1983 annual meeting, Roger Lonsdale suggested that our knowledge of
+eighteenth-century poetry has depended heavily on what our anthologies
+have decided to print. For the most part modern anthologies have, in
+turn, drawn on collections put together at the end of the eighteenth
+century and the beginning of the next, when the ideal for inclusion was
+essentially that of "polite taste." The obscene, the feminine, and the
+political were by general cultural agreement usually omitted. Lonsdale
+is not the only scholar questioning the basis of the canon; indeed,
+revisionism is fast becoming one of the more ingenious--and
+useful--parlor games among academics. Modern readers are no longer so
+squeamish about obscenity nor so uncomfortable with the purely personal
+lyric as were the editors at the end of the eighteenth century. And we
+are hardly likely to find poetry written by women objectionable on that
+score alone. In short, the anthologies we depend upon are out of date.
+
+
+Among the works that would never have been a source of poems for the
+canon, and one mentioned by Lonsdale, was the collection of verse
+published in four parts by J. Roberts beginning in 1731, _The
+Merry-Thought: or, the Glass-Window and Bog-House Miscellany_, commonly
+known simply as _The Bog-House Miscellany_. Its contemporary reputation
+may be described as infamous. James Bramston, in his _The Man of Taste_
+(1733), mentioned it as an example in poetry of the very opposite of
+"good Taste" (ARS 171 [1975], 7). Polite taste, of course, is meaningful
+only if it can define itself by what it excludes, and nothing could be
+in worse taste than a collection of pieces written on windows, carved in
+tables, or inscribed on the walls of Britain's loos.
+
+Just as the compilers of a modern work, _The Good Loo Guide_, were
+parodying a well-known guide book to British restaurants, so the unknown
+authors of _The Merry-Thought_ had some notion, however discontinuous,
+of parodying the nation's polite literature. Were not Pope and Swift
+famous for their distinguished miscellanies? What could be more amusing
+than a collection of poems that represented a different poetic
+ideal--a collection of verse with none of the pretensions to artistic
+merit claimed by the superstars of the poetic world--the spontaneous
+productions of nonpoets in moments of idleness or desperation.
+Apparently some of the inscribers in the bog-houses used excrement
+as a medium for--as well as a subject of--their inscriptions. _The
+Merry-Thought_, then, is not even the kind of art that Dryden attacked
+in _MacFlecknoe_ and Pope in his _Dunciad_--the work of bad poets
+masquerading as geniuses.[1] Rather, it is a primitive form of folk art
+produced as a more or less spontaneous act of play or passion, and
+achieving some small degree of respectability only when practiced by a
+respected poet and collected with his more serious verse.[2] Like modern
+"serial" graffiti, it could function as a form of communication since
+the first inscriptions often provoked those who followed to make their
+own contributions.
+
+  [Footnote 1: On the other hand, the willingness of publishers to
+  bring out such material would have suited well enough with Pope's
+  picture of heir heroic games. See Alexander Pope, _The Dunciad_, ed.
+  James utherland, Twickenham Edition, 2d ed., rev. (London: Methuen,
+  1953), 97-306, bk 2, lines 17-220.]
+
+  [Footnote 2: See, for example, W. H. Auden's "Academic Graffiti," in
+  Collected Poems_, ed. Edward Mendelsohn (London: Faber and Faber,
+  976), 510-18. Such a verse as the following is more clever than most
+  raffiti, but like ordinary graffiti it remains essentially
+  "unpoetic": Lord Byron / Once succumbed to a Siren. / His flesh was
+  weak, / Hers reek."]
+
+Indeed, one of the more interesting aspects of graffiti is that in an
+impermanent form it testifies to the continuance over the centuries of
+certain human concerns. Recent studies of graffiti have often focused on
+particular modern conflicts between races or nations, on drug problems,
+and on specific political commentary.[3] But such local matters aside,
+the content of modern graffiti is surprisingly like that of earlier
+periods: scatological observations, laments of lovers, accusations
+against women for their sexual promiscuity, the repetition of "trite"
+poems and sayings, and messages attributed to various men and women
+suggesting their sexual availability and proficiency. And if the
+political targets have changed over the years, many of the political
+attitudes have remained consistent. Graffiti is an irreverent form, with
+strong popular and anti-establishment elements. As actions common to all
+classes, eating, drinking, defecation, and fornication find their lowly
+record in graffiti-like form.
+
+  [Footnote 3: See, for example, Elizabeth Wales and Barbara Brewer,
+  "Graffiti in the 1970's," _Journal of Social Psychology_ 99 (1976):
+  115-23.]
+
+On the most basic level, a writer will observe that the excrement of
+the rich differs in no way from that of the poor. Thus one poem, taken
+supposedly from a "Person of Quality's Boghouse," has the following
+sentiment:
+
+  Good Lord! who could think,
+  That such fine Folks should stink?
+                                  (Pt. 2, p. 25)
+
+There is nothing very polite about such observations, and no pretension
+to art. These verses belong strictly to folklore and the sociology of
+literature, but they suggest some continuing rumbles of discontent
+against the class system, the existence among the lower orders of some
+of the egalitarian attitudes that survived the passing of the Lollards
+and the Levellers. Who were the writers of these pieces? Were they
+indeed laborers? Or were they from the lower part of what was called the
+"middle orders"? Is there some evidence to be found in the very fact
+that they could write?
+
+Graffiti may, indeed, tell us something about degrees of literacy. One
+wit remarked that whatever the ability to read or write may have been at
+the time, almost everyone seemed to have been literate when presented
+with a bog-house wall: "Since all who come to Bog-house write" (pt. 2,
+p. 26). The traditional connection between defecation and writing was
+another comparison apparent to the commentators. One wrote:
+
+  There's Nothing foul that we commit,
+  But what we write, and what we sh - - t.
+                                    (Pt. 2, p. 13)
+
+And the lack of some paper or material to clean the rear end provoked
+the following sentiment in the form of a litany:
+
+  From costive Stools, and hide-bound Wit,
+  From Bawdy Rhymes, and Hole besh - - t.
+  From Walls besmear'd with stinking Ordure,
+  By Swine who nee'r provide Bumfodder
+                            _Libera Nos_----
+                                      (Pt. 4, p. 7)
+
+Other types of graffiti, however, vary from the very earnest expression
+of affection to the nonexcrementally satiric. One of the more unusual is
+a poem in praise of a faithful and loving wife:
+
+  I kiss'd her standing,
+    Kiss'd her lying,
+  Kiss'd her in Health,
+    And kiss'd her dying;
+  And when she mounts _the Skies_,
+    I'll kiss her flying.
+                                 (Pt. 3, p. 5)
+
+Underneath this poem, _The Merry-Thought_ records a favorable comment on
+the sentiment. Even more earnest is the complaint of a woman about her
+fate in love:
+
+  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.
+                                      (Pt. 2, p. 12)
+
+We will never know why she was unable to marry the man she truly loved;
+but her bitterness may have been short-lived. Just after this
+inscription comes a cynical comment identifying the lady as a member of
+the Walker family. And the writer insists that like all women she was
+inconstant, since he kissed her the next night.
+
+This cynical approach to love and women dominates _The Merry-Thought_.
+Part three, for instance, contains a poem that reads like a parody of
+Belinda awaking in the first canto of Pope's _Rape of the Lock_. The
+author, identified as W. Overb - - ry, presents a realistic morning
+scene without either the charms and beauties that surround Pope's
+Belinda or the viciousness and focus of Swift's similar pictures (see
+pt. 3, p. 26).
+
+Prevailingly, women are depicted as sexually insatiable, as in a piece
+written by a man who takes a month's vacation from sex to recoup his
+strength (pt. 2, p. 12). And the related image of the female with a
+sexual organ capable of absorbing a man plays a variation on the vagina
+dentata theme (e.g., pt. 2, pp. 19, 24). A drawing of a man hanging
+himself for love raises a considerable debate on whether such a thing
+can indeed occur (pt. 2, pp. 17-18). In a more realistic vein, though
+equally cynical, is the poem on the woman who complained of her husband
+making her pregnant so often:
+
+  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.
+                                      (Pt. 2, pp. 10-11)
+
+S. M. is clearly unsympathetic to the plight of married women in an age
+with only the most primitive forms of birth control.[4] The picture of
+her as a long-suffering person is undercut by the casual male assumption
+that giving birth was not really dangerous and that women make too much
+of the pain and difficulty. That women were often forced to go through
+thirteen or fourteen deliveries when little thought had yet been given
+to creating an antiseptic environment for childbirth is apparently of
+little concern to S. M., who finds in the apparent willingness of the
+woman to have sexual intercourse one more time sufficient reason for
+contempt.
+
+  [Footnote 4: For an account of the horrors associated with
+  childbirth, see Lawrence Stone, _The Family, Sex, and Marriage in
+  England, 1500-1800_ (New York: Harper and Row, 1977), 79-80.]
+
+In addition to giving glimpses into social attitudes, _The
+Merry-Thought_ has a variety of inscriptions that show the way these
+writings functioned. Professor George Guffey, in his introduction to
+the first part of this work (ARS 216 [1982], iii-iv), remarks upon the
+proposal scene carried on in _Moll Flanders_ between Moll and the
+admirer who will prove her third husband and her brother. Such scenes
+involving witty proposals and responses cut into the windows of taverns
+were real enough at the time. The exchange in part two of _The
+Merry-Thought_ is not, however, half so satisfactory. The woman takes
+umbrage at her admirer's suggestions that the glass on which he writes
+is "the Emblem" of her mind in being "brittle, slipp'ry, [and]
+pois'nous," and writes in retort:
+
+  I must confess, kind Sir, that though this Glass,
+  Can't prove me brittle, it proves you an Ass.
+                                          (Pt. 2, p. 27)
+
+Though an easy cynicism about women's availability and about the
+body's insistently animal functions predominates, there is enough
+variety in _The Merry-Thought_ to provide something of a picture of
+eighteenth-century society were any future anthropologist to come
+upon this volume as the sole remnant of that period. He would see a
+society engaged rather more in animal functions than in intellectual
+pursuits--a society rather more concerned with drinking, love, and
+defecation than the picture presented by the polite and intellectual
+literature of the time allowed. But he would also find in the satirical
+squibs on Corny, the Cambridge bookseller and printer, evidence of
+learning and university life (pt. 2, pp. 4-6) as well as a criticism of
+opera (pt. 2, pp. 14-16). He would see numerous young men longing for
+their mistresses to soften their hearts toward them, and cynical older
+men who had lost their illusions about love. But he could also come upon
+a straight piece of philosophy taken from the still fashionable Flask
+tavern in Hampstead (pt. 2, p. 24) or lowly bits of pious folk wisdom
+(pt. 2, p. 10). More often, however, he would uncover a society in which
+there was little of the generalized style that characterizes even the
+most personal formal poetry of the period. Many of the writers identify
+themselves and the names of the women they love or detest. In short, if
+these volumes do little else, they do provide a vivid glimpse into the
+personal life of the time, and to that extent an injection of some of
+these inscriptions into the anthologies of the period might help in
+providing a lively and piquant context for the serious artistic
+production of writers like Gay and Swift.
+
+
+The announced "publisher" of this olio was one Hurlothrumbo, a character
+drawn from the theatrical piece of that name by Samuel Johnson of
+Cheshire (1691-1773). Professor Guffey has proposed that James Roberts,
+for whom the four parts were printed, "was almost certainly the
+collector of the graffiti" and that the name of Hurlothrumbo was invoked
+in order to attract some of the attention that Samuel Johnson of
+Cheshire and his play were still receiving two years after the play's
+first performance and publication.[5] But Roberts would appear an
+unlikely candidate for the role of editor;[6] I would suggest, rather,
+the possibility of a more direct and active connection with Samuel
+Johnson of Cheshire: that he was himself likely the compiler of the
+four parts of _The Merry-Thought_ and that, whatever the individual
+versifiers may have intended, this infamous collection of graffiti--_as
+collection_--shares very closely with Johnson's other work a spirit of
+wild variety, eccentric juxtaposition, and essential anarchism that is
+meant to lead, not to clever parody of polite literature, but to a new,
+almost apocalyptic vision of the sublime.
+
+  [Footnote 5: See ARS 216, x, n. 12. Professor Guffey offers
+  parallels between _The Merry-Thought_ and _Hurlothrumbo_ in
+  "Graffiti, Hurlo Thrumbo, and the Other Samuel Johnson," _Forum:
+  A Journal of the Humanities and Fine Arts_ 17 (1979): 35-47.]
+
+  [Footnote 6: Michael Treadwell has demonstrated that the "trade
+  publishers" of the eighteenth century, such as James Roberts, acted
+  almost exclusively as binders and distributors of books and were
+  therefore different in kind from the printers and booksellers, who
+  were directly involved in the selection and production process.
+  Roberts and the other "trade publishers" dealt almost exclusively in
+  "works belonging to others," and Treadwell singles out Roberts as
+  the purest example. Despite putting his name to "literally thousands
+  of works," he never purchased any of the copyrights on works during
+  his long career. See "London Trade Publishers, 1675-1750,"
+  _Library_, 6th ser., 4 (1982): 99-134.]
+
+At the first level, _Hurlothrumbo: Or, The Super-Natural_ (1729) itself
+appears to be quite simply a parody, in this case of opera in the form
+of a work mixing dialogue and song in a manner similar to but much
+wilder than Gay's _Beggar's Opera_. Johnson's apparent takeoff on the
+heroics of opera managed to include in its attack a commentary upon the
+absurdity of contemporary tragedy as well as some specific references to
+those works that aimed at the sublime. Lines like "This World is all a
+Dream, an Outside, a Dunghill pav'd with Diamonds" (48) seem to call the
+very nature of metaphor into question, especially when juxtaposed with
+other delirious lines such as "Rapture is the Egg of Love, hatched
+by a radiant Eye" (14) or by songs such as that sung by the king on
+contemplating the effects of swallowing gunpowder and brandy together:
+
+  Then Lightning from the Nostrils flies.
+  Swift Thunder-bolts from Anus, and the Mouth will break,
+  With Sounds to pierce the Skies, and make the Earth to quake.
+                                                      (P. 42)
+
+_Hurlothrumbo_ may be mostly nonsense, but from the standpoint of
+literary history, it is highly significant nonsense. It represented a
+revolt against all dramatic conventions and shared a number of qualities
+with graffiti, including the sense of spontaneity.
+
+Had Johnson's intention been something as relatively uncomplicated as
+literary parody he would have achieved some minor fame in a century
+which could boast any number of geniuses who had specialized in deriding
+the pretentiousness of the more established literary forms, particularly
+tragedy, the epic, and the pastoral. But Johnson of Cheshire lacked the
+aesthetic distance required of sustained irony and had a grander purpose
+in mind. His tradition was not that of the parodist but rather that of
+the visionary--the mystic whose tendency is to merge the high and the
+low, the sublime and the absurd, within a single work.[7] He was not
+attacking the extravagant rants of the heroic play as Fielding was to do
+in his _Tragedy of Tragedies_ (1731) or reflecting on opera and pastoral
+as Gay had done in _The Beggar's Opera_ (1728); rather he was trying,
+however unsuccessfully, to maintain his own work at the highest reaches
+of sublimity. He was like one of Pope's "_Flying Fishes_," who "now and
+then rise upon their fins and fly out of the Profound; but their wings
+are soon dry, and they drop down to the bottom."[8]
+
+  [Footnote 7: See Martin Pops, "The Metamorphosis of Shit,"
+  _Salmagundi_ 56 (1982): 27-61.]
+
+  [Footnote 8: Alexander Pope, _Peri Bathous_, in _Literary Criticism
+  of Alexander Pope_, ed. Bertrand A. Goldgar (Lincoln: University of
+  Nebraska Press, 1965), 54.]
+
+In his preface to _The Blazing Comet; or the Beauties of the Poets_
+(1732), Johnson of Cheshire noted that "the same thought that makes the
+Fool laugh, may make the wise Man sigh" (ix). Given such an equivocal
+approach to the ways in which the audience responded to his work, the
+poet could easily shrug off audience laughter to his most "Sublime"
+lines. He was always ready "to leap up in Extasy; and dip ... [his] Pen
+in the Sun" (iv). Parts of _Hurlothrumbo_, particularly the scene
+between Lady Flame and Wildfire (both of whom are described in the list
+of characters as "mad") in which Wildfire threatens to cast off his
+clothes and "run about stark naked" (48), bear an odd resemblance to
+"The King's Cameleopard" in _Huckleberry Finn_. But the disconnected
+verbal structure, along with the music and dancing, achieves a strange
+mixture that must have amused and, to a certain extent, bemused its
+audience.
+
+Johnson called upon "Variety" as his most important artistic principle,
+and he developed his ideas on this subject in _A Vision of Heaven_
+(1738), a work which bears a striking resemblance to William Blake's
+_The Marriage of Heaven and Hell_.[9] Johnson argues that all surface
+appearances are merely a form of "Hieroglyphic" concealing a true vision
+of things (6). His narrator is capable of what Blake was to call "mental
+flight," and there is a particularly vivid passage in which the stars
+are seen as throwing down "freezing Daggers" at the poor starving
+children in the streets and another in which we encounter an aged woman
+who wields a broom against spiders and against all the young women who
+threaten to come near the narrator (26).[10] The mystic temperament is
+often capable of making connections between the spiritual and the
+excremental,[11] between the sublime and the bathos of "Thunder-bolts
+from Anus." Blake, we should recall, has poems depicting himself
+defecating.[12]
+
+  [Footnote 9: Without suggesting that Blake may have known of
+  Johnson's work, I would nevertheless note the similarity of certain
+  sections. Like Blake, Johnson mingled comedy and satire in his
+  vision.]
+
+  [Footnote 10: Compare Blake's "The Mental Traveler," _The Poetry and
+  Prose of William Blake_, ed. David Erdman and Harold Bloom (Garden
+  City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1970), 476-77.]
+
+  [Footnote 11: See Pops, 31.]
+
+  [Footnote 12: Blake, _Poetry and Prose_, 491.]
+
+Whether Johnson actually collected _The Merry-Thought_ or not, the
+reasons for the association of these volumes with his name should then
+be clear enough. While Fielding might appropriate the title "Scriblerus
+Secundus" by way of staking out a line of descent for his humor and
+satire, Hurlothrumbo was so thoroughly connected with Johnson and his
+play that I can see no reason why he should not be considered the likely
+editor of such a varied and eccentric collection of verse and prose as
+_The Merry-Thought_. That the "Variety" bears no resemblance to that of
+serious art, however, should be as obvious as the difference between a
+William Blake and a Samuel Johnson of Cheshire. As William Hogarth was
+to remark, "variety uncomposed, and without design is confusion and
+deformity."[13]
+
+  [Footnote 13: _The Analysis of Beauty_, ed. Joseph Burke (Oxford:
+  Clarendon Press, 1955), 35.]
+
+Of course, miscellanies by their very nature are likely to be organized
+according to principles of variety. What makes _The Merry-Thought_
+different from those appealing to polite taste is the wide swings of
+emotion that prompt the writers of these poems and catch the compiler's
+fancy. As we have seen, the verses themselves vary from the grossest
+comments on shit to the most passionate expressions of love. That the
+one is likely to appear on the walls of latrines and the other to be cut
+in glass by a diamond is part of what Johnson would have called the
+"Hieroglyphic" significance of this collection. In Johnson's plays,
+there is the odd mixture of vulgarity and sublimity, the comic and the
+serious, the satirical and the nonsensical. If his dramas bear a
+resemblance to Jarry's _Ubu Roi_, so _The Merry-Thought_ resembles the
+kind of anthology that Jarry might have put together to illustrate the
+absurd anarchy of the human spirit. Johnson, on the other hand, regarded
+this seeming anarchy of human thoughts and feelings optimistically as an
+emblem of human spirituality.
+
+_University of California,_
+
+  _Los Angeles_
+
+
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
+
+
+Part 2 ("The SECOND EDITION") and Part 3 of _The Merry-Thought_ are
+reproduced in photographic facsimile from the copies in the William
+Andrews Clark Memorial Library (Shelf Mark: *PR1195/H8H9/1731). They are
+bound together with Part 1 ("the Third Edition; with very Large
+Additions and Alterations"), which was published as ARS 216 in 1982.
+A typical type page (pt. 2. p. 7) measures 154 x 87 mm. Part 4 is
+reproduced from the copy in the Bodleian Library, Oxford (Shelf Mark:
+Douce T. 168[5]).
+
+
+
+
+                      The
+
+                 MERRY-THOUGHT:
+
+                    or, the
+
+          Glass-Window and Bog-House
+
+                  MISCELLANY.
+
+                  Taken from
+
+  The Original Manuscripts written in _Diamond_
+    by Persons of the first Rank and Figure in _Great
+    Britain_; relating to Love, Matrimony, Drunkenness,
+    Sobriety, Ranting, Scandal, Politicks, Gaming,
+    and many other Subjects, _Serious_ and _Comical_.
+
+  Faithfully Transcribed from the Drinking-Glasses and
+    Windows in the several noted _Taverns_, _Inns_, and
+    other _Publick Places_ in this Nation. Amongst which
+    are inserted several curious Pieces from both
+    Universities.
+
+  _Published by_ HURLO THRUMBO.
+
+    _Gameyorum, Wildum, Gorum,
+    Gameyorum a Gamy,
+    Flumarum a Flumarum,
+    A Rigdum Bollarum
+    A Rigdum, for a little Gamey._
+
+        Bethleham-Wall, Moor-Fields.
+
+
+  PART II.
+
+  The SECOND EDITION.
+
+    _LONDON_:
+
+  Printed for J. ROBERTS in _Warwick-Lane_; and Sold by
+    the Booksellers in Town and Country. [Price 6 _d._]
+
+
+
+
+_N. B._ The Editor returns his hearty Thanks to those Gentlemen who have
+favoured him with their Letters, and intreats that they will be so good
+as to continue to communicate whatever they shall meet with of this Kind
+to the Publisher.
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+MERRY-THOUGHT.
+
+PART II.
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+You will pardon the Editor that he does not put Things better in Order;
+but he is so engaged in reading the Letters sent him in from the two
+Universities, after the Publication of the First Part, that he believes
+the Preface is in the Middle of the Book; but I dare swear you'll find
+it somewhere or other, and so read on.
+
+
+_In _Trinity-College_ Bogs._
+
+  Ye _Cantabs_ mind when ye are sh - - t - - ng,
+  How nearly 'tis allied to Writing.
+  ----To Writing, say you? ----pray how so?
+  An uncouth Simile, I trow.
+
+  ----Hold, pray ---- Condemn it not untry'd;
+  Hear only how it is apply'd.
+
+    As learned _Johnian_ wracks his Brain----
+  Thinks, ----hems, ----looks wise, ----then thinks again;----
+  When all this Preparation's done,
+  The mighty Product is ---- a Pun.
+
+    So some with direful strange Grimaces,
+  Within this Dome distort their Faces;
+  Strain, ----squeeze, ----yet loth for to depart,
+  Again they strain--for what? a Fart.
+
+    Hence _Cantabs_ take this moral Trite,
+  'Gainst Nature, if ye think or sh - - te;
+  Use all the Labour, all the Art,
+  'Twill ne'er exceed a Pun, or Fart.
+
+
+_Red-Lion, Egham._
+
+  Coquets will always merry prove;             }
+  But Prudes are those _give down their love_; }
+  And love and move, and move to love.         }
+
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  A Prude for my Money, by G - - d.
+
+    T. S. 1711.
+
+
+_Written on the Looking-Glass of Mr. T - - p - - n,
+  Fellow-Commoner of Trinity-College, Cambridge._
+
+_Imago in Speculo loquitur ad T - - p - - n._
+
+  I.
+
+  Thou pretty little fluttering Thing,
+    That mak'st this gaudy Shew;
+  Thou senseless Mimick of a Man,
+    Thou Being, call'd a Beau.
+
+
+  II.
+
+  Like me thou art an empty Form,
+    Like me alone, thou'rt made;
+  Like me delusive seem'st a Man,
+    But only art a Shade.
+
+
+_Tuns in Cambridge, Window facing a certain Alderman's in the Market._
+
+  Is _Molly Fr----_ immortal? ----No.
+  She is; and I will prove her so.
+  She's fifteen now, and was, I know,
+  Fifteen, full fifteen Years ago.
+
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  The Fates from Heaven late came Post;
+  And thus address'd this _Cambridge_ Toast.
+
+  Say happy Maid that can detain
+  Old hoary Time in fetter'd Chain,
+  What wouldst thou have to set him free,
+  And give thy captive Liberty?
+
+    Miss _Molly_ call'd Mamma aside,
+  ---- Whisper'd awhile, then thus reply'd;
+
+    Upon my Life, all I would have
+  From _Victor_ is to be a Slave;
+  I'll soon untie this Captive's Hands;
+  ---- Tie me but fast in _Hymen_'s Bands.
+
+
+_On the Same on another Pane._
+
+  At Home Miss _Molly_'s scarce fifteen.
+    Mamma says she's no more;
+  But if the Parish-Book says true,
+    Miss _Molly_'s thirty four.
+            Poor Miss _Molly_!
+
+
+_Wrote on Cor---- Cr----d's (a Printer and Bookseller in Cambridge)
+  Window in the Shop._
+
+  Ye longing Sophs, say it who can,
+  That _Corny_'s not a learned Man.
+  He knows well each Edition, Sir,
+  Of _Aldus_, and of _Elzevir_;
+  Of _Beza_ he profoundly reasons,
+  And talks jocose of _Harry Stephens_.
+  Though (says a Wag) all this I grant,
+  Yet _Corny_ sure must Learning want.
+  How so? ----It's plain, (if that we may
+  B'lieve what Men of themselves do say,)
+  For _Corny_'s openly* confess'd.
+  He's but a Blockhead at the best.
+
+    * _Corny_, in Printing a _Latin_ Book, censur'd by the University,
+    was forced to plead _Ignoramus_ to save his Bacon.
+
+
+_Another in the Shop, on C----'s Title Page_
+
+LEARNING.
+
+  Within this learn'd Receptacle of Arts,
+  _Corny_, if ask'd, on each can shew his Parts;
+  Alike a _Newton_, or a _Ratcliffe_ prove;
+  A _Coke_ in Law----an _Etheridge_ in Love.--
+  Reason profound----in Hist'ry state each Fact,
+  Teach{~DAGGER~} _London_ how to think, or _Walpole_ how to act.
+
+    O say from whence should all this Learning come.----
+  From whence?----from each dead Sage around the Room.
+
+    If _Corny_ thence his Fund of Learning draws,
+  How great his Skill in Politicks or Laws? ----
+  How deeply read? ---- how vast his learned Store? ----
+  ---- When ---- past the Title, all his Learning's o'er.
+
+    {~DAGGER~} Bishop.
+
+
+_Another in the Same._
+
+  Is _Corny_'s Learning much; my Friends;
+  Since where it does begin, ---- it ends?
+
+
+_From a Window in Ardenham-House, Hertfordshire._
+
+  As glass obdurate no Impression takes,
+  But what the radiant piercing Diamond makes;
+  Just so my Heart all other Pow'rs defies,
+  But those of fair _Venilla_'s brilliant Eyes.
+
+
+_Written in a Lady's Dressing Room._
+
+  _Brunetta_, I grant you, can give her Swain Death;
+  But 'tis not with her Eyes, but with her - - ill Breath.
+
+
+_From a Window in the Inner Temple-Hall._
+
+  Come hither, Barristers of Dress,
+  That once your Lips may meet Success:
+  From _Rufus_' filthy Hall withdraw;
+  Here only ye can live by Law.
+
+
+_A Rebus on Lady of Quality, on a Glass at the Old Devil Tavern._
+
+  What fly from her Eyes, and the Place whither I
+  Must soon be convey'd to, unless she comply,
+  Is the Name of the Beauty for whom I could die.
+
+  _N. B._ Darts and _Shafts_ fly from her Eyes, and if one dies,
+    one must be _bury_'d.
+
+
+_Under the Rebus on Lady Sh - - - bury, at the Devil Tavern, is this;_
+
+  What opens a Door, and a Word of Offence,
+  Tell the Name of a Nymph of Wit, Beauty, and Sense.
+
+  Supposed to be for Miss _Ke - ly_.
+
+
+_From the Window of a Chamber in the Inner Temple._
+
+  For dear _Venilla_ in my Arms,
+  I'd scorn all other female Charms;
+  Ten thousand Beauties she can spare,
+  And still be _Fairest_ of the _Fair_.
+
+
+_From innumerable Windows._
+
+  Like _Mars_ I'll fight, like _Antony_ I'll love,
+  I'll drink like _Bacchus_, and I'll whore like _Jove_.
+
+
+_From the Apollo, the large Dancing-Room in the Devil Tavern, written
+  when some were engaged in a particular Country-Dance._
+
+  This Dance foretells that Couple's Life,
+  Who mean to dance as Man and Wife;
+  As here, they'll first with Vigour set,
+  Give Hands, and turn whene'er they meet;
+  But soon will quit their former Track,
+  Cast off and end in Back to Back.
+
+
+_From the Angel Tavern, Temple-Bar._
+
+  'Tis hard! 'tis wonderous hard!
+    That the Life of a Man
+    Should be but a Span,
+  And that of a Woman a Yard!
+
+
+_From a Watch-Maker's Window, Fleet-Street._
+
+  Here Time is bought and sold: 'Tis plain, my Friend,
+  My Clocks and Watches shew what I intend;
+        For you I Time correct,
+        My Time I spend;
+          By Time I live,
+    But not one Inch will lend,
+    Except you pay the ready down or send:
+          I trust no Time,
+    Unless the Times do mend.
+
+
+_On a Watch-Case in a Gentleman's Pocket, given him by a Lady._
+
+  The Wretched pray to make more Haste,
+  The Happy say we fly too fast;
+  Therefore impossible to know,
+  Whether I go too fast or slow.
+
+    S. M.
+
+
+_At Hollyhead, I suppose, written by some Creation-Mender._
+
+  Arra, now what signifies the making the two great Lights?
+  The Sun to light the Day, and the Moons to light the Nights:
+  For the Sun in the Day-Time there is no Occasion,
+  Because I can see very well after my Persuasion:
+  But for the Moons, they are very good in a dark Night,
+  Because when we cannot see they give us a Light.
+
+
+_Crown at Harlow._
+
+  Rail at your Father, rail at your Mother,
+  Rail at your Sister, rail at your Brother,
+  Rail on, my Boys, and rail at one another.
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  Rail as you say, and you'll be all railed in.
+
+
+_Written upon the Wall of Clements-Inn, when the Dial was put up
+  which is supported by a black Slave in a kneeling Posture._
+
+  In vain poor sable Son of Woe,
+    Thou seek'st a tender Ear;
+  In vain thy Tears with Anguish flow,
+    For Mercy dwells not here:
+  From Cannibals thou fly'st in vain,
+    Lawyers less Quarter give;
+  The first won't eat you till you're slain,
+    The last will do't alive.
+
+
+_Hampstead on a Window._
+
+  I am a Dog ----
+    In true Fidelity
+  I am a Sun ----
+    In faithful Constancy:
+  I am a Stote, ----
+    To please a lustful Lass;
+  I am a Hog, ----
+    And you may kiss my A----se.
+  But if my _Celia_ comes within my Ken;
+  Then I shall be again like other Men.
+
+
+_On another at the same Place._
+
+  My Wife says, Whither do you go?
+  And I return, my dear, I do not know;
+  Then d----n your Blood, says she, to use me thus;
+  And then I call her 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, and I returned Home.
+
+Z----ds, thinks I, if I don't understand their barbarous Language, must
+I let them have any Thing of my ancient Language? No, Messieurs! I'll
+let my Opera remain in its Infancy, and you shall curse yourselves
+before you have it compleat; but that you shall know what Fools you have
+been, I'll stick a Needle through my Nose, that you may look sharp; and
+then you will say, why did not US take it, for in the first Scene I saw
+all the Audience laugh. But to the Point, _i.e._ the second Preamble or
+Argument,
+
+
+OPERA.
+
+Scene is the City of _Athens_, and an old Woman lives in a hollow Tree,
+where she sells Gin and Gingerbread to the Grenadiers; her Name is
+Gammer _Hocus_. Then there comes a Goddess, who sells Butter and Eggs at
+_Athens_ Market, upon her Uncle's bald Mare; and as the Mare is a
+stumbling Jade, so she falls down before _Hocus_'s Tree, and hurts her
+Rump, and then we begin.
+
+_N. B._ When the Goddess _Cinderaxan_ falls down before Gammer _Hocus_'s
+Door, or Tree, she begins in _Ricitativo_----_Greek_ Fashion.
+
+  _O! mega mar, hocus the baldmare has cantedme ontoss;
+  * Philladram sukami, some Spirit offerme to suckon.
+  Dear _Hokey_ behasty, forbum sufferssore by a Thumpon't;
+  No baldmare my Gammon shall contuseagain by one moretoss._
+
+    * Fill.
+
+_English'd_ thus for the Benefit of the Ladies, though 'tis much the
+same in the _Greek_.
+
+  _O my Gammer _Hocus_, the bald Mare has canted me one Toss;
+  Fill a Dram, sick am I, some Spirit offer me to suck on.
+  Dear _Hokey_ be hasty, for Bum suffers sore by a Thump on't.
+  No bald Mare my Gammon shall contuse again by one more Toss._
+
+Then out comes Gammer _Hocus_, when the Goddess had called for a Dram in
+the second Line, and sings with an Air, seeing her Goddessship as dirty
+as the Devil.
+
+  __Cinderaxan_'s sablehew'd Aspect,----
+  Fulloffun, though the Doxey can seemcoy._
+
+And here we leave off. Is not the Devil in the People, that they will
+not encourage a good Thing, when they have it before them.
+
+
+_Crown at Uxbridge,_ 1708.
+
+_An Acrostick upon something or other._
+
+  Commodious for a Haven made,
+    Under a rising Bank,
+  Nature has fix'd a Place of Trade,
+    To Men of any Rank.
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  Riddle my ree, _&c._
+  And read the four first Letters, and you'll see.
+
+    _R. M._
+
+_A Man hanging for Love, drawn when Painting was in its Cradle, with his
+  Dog barking at him, _viva voce_. From the three Pigeons at Brentford._
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+The Occasion of this dangling Story, was from a Lady who hated him, and
+set him about it.
+
+  Go hang thyself, quoth cruel She,
+    Go hang thyself I say.
+  The Man obey'd her presently,
+    And made himself away.    _Mary Worthless._
+
+The Criticks do not make out whether he _walk'd_ off, or _went_ off,
+neither does the Figure determine which.
+
+  Hang me, if I will _hang_ for any Woman,
+  For most of them alike are very common;
+  I'd sooner trudge as I have done before,
+  Than hang upon a d----d confounded Whore.
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  No Matter if the Man is longer than the Gallows,
+  He smokes and drinks his Glass like honest Fellows.
+
+
+_Upon a Drinking-Glass at Charing-Cross._
+
+  _Nanny Sach----l_ is all my Toast;
+  She's all I wish for, and is all my Boast.
+
+
+_Egham, at the Red Lion._
+
+  Help me, ye Pow'rs, to sing my _Sylvia_'s Praise;
+  Nor _P - - pe_ nor _Sw - - ft_ can do it now a-days.
+  But you, nor I, or them, can ever boast,    }
+  There ever was in _Europe_ such a Toast;    }
+  All we can say, is, _Lucy_ rules the Roast. }
+
+
+_At a Place not to be recorded._
+
+  A d - - - d confounded Bitch,
+  Ugly and cunning as a Witch.
+  Her Bill shall be preferr'd by Law;
+  The House we wish we'd never saw.
+      One Pound five and ten Pence;
+      Grant her Repentance;
+      We'll never come here again;
+      And let her alone remain.
+
+          J. S.
+          R. S. 17 July.
+          1722. very truly.
+
+
+  I do not complain of my _Phillis_,
+  Because I know what her proud Will is;
+      For I know how she'll rant,
+      And I know what I want;
+      G - - d d - - - n her old Aunt;
+  I stand here, and wait for her, THAT _still is_.
+
+
+_On a beautiful Sempstress, in a Window at Charing-Cross._
+
+  _Dolly_, with Beauty and Art,
+  Has so hemm'd in my Heart,
+  That I cannot resist the Charm.
+    In Revenge I will stitch
+    Up the Hole near her Breach,
+  With a Needle as long as my Arm.
+
+    R.
+
+
+_Two Girls at a Bar, that would do't, and one Gentleman would
+  chatter too long._
+
+  What the Devil should we meddle
+  With diddle daddle, fiddle faddle;
+  We shall lose the Girls that please;
+  Go to Bed, and take your Ease.
+
+    M. C. to his Friend.
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  I know they'll ease you both, for I have been aboard of them.
+
+    R. C.
+
+  I shall tell best at the next Meeting:
+  The Proof of the Pudding is in the eating.
+
+
+_Blue Posts, Charing-Cross._
+
+  Use me friendly, use me kind;
+    I'll be the kindest of my Sex;
+  I'll love, be constant, and you'll find,
+    I'll be your own in _Middlesex_.
+
+    _Molly Sh----r._
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  Take care you keep her Country to yourself.
+
+    M. L.
+
+
+_Red Lion at Egham._
+
+  I _watch_ and _pray_ for dearest _Nancy_,
+  Because I always love her Fancy;
+      But then there comes,
+      Like Bailiff Bums,
+  The _Watch_ with Lights we _can see_;
+      And then she'll pray,
+      And I must pay,
+  And retreat as clean as a Tansey.
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  For Money one may whore,
+  And I'll say no more.----
+
+    R. T.
+
+
+_At the same Place._
+
+  I am a young Thing, just come from my Mammy.
+
+    S. L.
+
+_Underwritten_
+
+  Then you want to be kiss'd, G - - d d - - - n ye.
+
+    Captain R. T.
+
+
+_Bull-and-Mouth-Street._
+
+  If Virtue rules the Minds of Women,
+  They'll never let you touch their Linnen;
+  But if they are not Virtue Proof,
+  Then you may kiss them oft enough.
+
+
+_Uxbridge, at the Crown._
+
+  _Molley_ came up to Town precise,
+  Demure, yet fire in her Eyes;
+  So did she look confounded civil;
+  With Grace and Beauty like a Devil;
+  But soon her Eyes drew in some Hearts,       }
+  And some _Things else_ like _Cupid_'s Darts, }
+  Which gave her Pains, and many Smarts.       }
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  Thou Puppy, ----
+  The Fire of her Eyes occasioned the Flame of her Heart,
+  And drew the Fire to her lower Part.
+
+    _R. L._
+
+
+_From the same Place._
+
+  After a tedious Journey, and my Supper,
+  And dam----d uneasy with my Crupper,
+  _Jenney_ came up to warm my Bed, }
+  A pretty Girl; but I was dead,   }
+  Or else I'd had her Maidenhead.  }
+
+    _R. T._
+
+
+_Swan at Uxbridge._
+
+  Who's been here,
+  The Devil I fear;
+  For he's left the Bottles clear.
+
+    _R. Est----n_, 1710.
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  'Twas so; for nothing so like the Devil as an empty Bottle.
+
+    _G. S._ 1711.
+
+
+_Boghouse at Uxbridge._
+
+  If a Man should breathe backwards, and happens to stink,
+  You may say, if you will, it is natural _Instinct_.
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+You may quibble upon the Word _Instinct_, if you will; but I think 'tis
+better out than in, considering the Case.
+
+    _I. M._ of _Oxon._
+
+
+_Betty Careless, her Prayers: From her Chambers in Drury-Lane, on a
+  Wall, written with a Piece of Charcoal._
+
+  Grant us good lusty Men, ye gracious Pow'rs!
+  Or else stop up those craving Things of ours!
+
+
+_From the Plough Ale-House in Fore-Street, near Cripplegate, written
+  upon a Wall._
+
+  Good Bread and Meat, strong Beer withal,
+    Will make a T    d more lasting;
+  Therefore I think he is a Fool,
+    That goes out in a Morning fasting.
+
+    _Tom. Rudge._
+
+We suppose he wants to eternize his Memory by eating a Breakfast.
+
+  When I lay with my bouncing _Nell_,
+  I gave her an Inch, and she took an Ell:
+  But I think in this Case it was damnable hard,
+  When I gave her an Inch, she'd want more than a Yard.
+
+
+_Hampstead, at the Flask._
+
+Nothing so certain as the Uncertainties of this Life, _says one of the
+Greek Philosophers_.
+
+
+_Hoxton, on a Wall._
+
+  What Difference between Kings T - - - ds and mine?
+  One may be costive, one be full of Slime;
+  Yet equally will any Hog that feeds,
+  Produce good Pork by feeding on our Needs.
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  You nasty Dog, you may eat your Pork yourself.
+
+
+_Hampstead, at the Flask._
+
+  Tell me why, ye gen'rous Swains?
+  Tell me, ye Nymphs upon the Plains?
+  Why does _Sylvia_ leave the Green?
+  Has she done any Thing obscene?
+  They all reply'd, Your _Sylvia_'s gone;
+  For she will do't with ev'ry one.
+
+
+_From the Red Lyon at Egham._
+
+  She that thinks upon her Honour,
+  Needs no other Guard upon her.
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  She that has a Man upon her,
+  Never thinks upon her Honour.
+
+
+_In Trinity College Boghouse, Dublin._
+
+  You who instead of Fodder, Fingers use,
+  Pray lick 'em clean, and don't this Wall abuse.
+
+_Under which is written;_
+
+  These House-of-Office Poets, by the L - - - d,
+  Instead of Laurel, should be crown'd with T - - - d.
+
+
+_In a Window, at the Sign of the Four Crosses, on the Road to West
+  Chester._
+
+  Host! wou'd you paint your Crosses to the Life,
+  Pull down your Sign, and then hang up your Wife.
+
+
+_On A Window at Canbury-House._
+
+  The Breast of ev'ry _British_ Fair,
+    Like this bright, brittle, slippery Glass,
+  A Diamond makes Impression there,
+    Though on the Finger of an Ass.
+
+
+_On a Person of Quality's Boghouse._
+
+  Good Lord! who could think,
+  That such fine Folks should stink?
+
+
+_On a Window at Bushy-Hall, Hertfordshire._
+
+  Love is like Blindman's Buff, where we pursue,
+  We know not what we catch, we know not who;
+  And when we grasp our Wish, what Prize is won?
+  Our Eyes are open'd, and the Play is done.
+
+
+_Some Love Verses being first written on a Window in Brook-Street, and
+  scratched out, occasioned the following:_
+
+  Good grave Papa, you hope in vain,
+    By blotting this to mend her;
+  She who writes Love upon the Pane,
+    Will soon leap out at Window.
+
+
+_On the Middle Temple Boghouse._
+
+  Well sung of Yore, a Bard of Wit,
+  That some Folks read, but all Folks sh - - - t;
+  But now the Case is alter'd quite,
+  Since all who come to Boghouse write.
+
+
+_On the same Place._
+
+  Because they cannot eat, some Authors write;
+  And some, it seems, because they cannot sh - - te.
+
+
+_On a Glass at the Devil Tavern, Temple-Bar._
+
+  The stubborn Glass no Character receives,
+  Except the Stamp the piercing Brilliant gives.
+  A female Heart thus no Impression takes,
+  But what the Lover tipp'd with Diamond makes.
+
+
+_At Launder's Coffee-House, in the Old Play-House Passage._
+
+  Dear _Pat_, 'tis vain to patch or paint,
+  Since still a fragrant Breath you want;
+  For though well furnish'd, yet all Folks
+  Despise a Room whose Chimney smokes.
+
+
+_White-Hart at Watford._
+
+Parody of four Lines of _Dryden_.
+
+  Glass with a Diamond does our Wit betray;
+  Who can write sure on that smooth slippery Way?
+  Pleas'd with our scribling we cut swiftly on,
+  And see the Nonsense, which we cannot shun.
+
+
+_In a Window at the Kings-Arms Tavern, Fleet-Street._
+
+  Both mine and Women's Fate you'll judge from hence ill,
+  That we are pierc'd by ev'ry Coxcomb's Pencil.
+
+
+_Written in a Window at a private House, by a desponding Lover in the
+  Presence of his Mistress._
+
+  This Glass, my Fair's the Emblem of your Mind,
+  Which brittle, slipp'ry, pois'nous oft we find.
+
+
+_Her Answer underneath._
+
+  I must confess, kind Sir, that though this Glass,
+  Can't prove me brittle, it proves you an Ass.
+
+
+_Sent by an unknown Hand._
+
+      O ye Powers above!
+        Who of Mortals take Care,
+      Make Women less cruel,
+        More fond, or less fair.
+  Was _Helen_ half so fair, so form'd for Joy,
+  Well fought the _Trojan_, and well burnt was _Troy_.
+
+
+_FINIS._
+
+
+
+
+                      The
+
+                 MERRY-THOUGHT:
+
+                    or, the
+
+          Glass-Window and Bog-House
+
+                  MISCELLANY.
+
+                  Taken from
+
+  The Original Manuscripts written in _Diamond_
+    by Persons of the first Rank and Figure in _Great
+    Britain_; relating to Love, Matrimony, Drunkenness,
+    Sobriety, Ranting, Scandal, Politicks, Gaming,
+    and many other Subjects, _Serious_ and _Comical_.
+
+  Faithfully Transcribed from the Drinking-Glasses and
+    Windows in the several noted _Taverns_, _Inns_, and
+    other _Publick Places_ in this Nation. Amongst which
+    are intermixed the Lucubrations of the polite Part
+    of the World, written upon Walls in Bog-houses, _&c._
+
+  _Published by_ HURLO THRUMBO.
+
+
+    _Gameyorum, Wildum, Gorum,
+    Gameyorum a Gamey,
+    Flumarum a Flumarum,
+    A Rigdum Bollarum
+    A Rigdum, for a little Gamey._
+
+        Bethlehem-Wall, Moor-Fields.
+
+
+PART III.
+
+    _LONDON_:
+
+  Printed for J. ROBERTS in _Warwick-Lane_; and Sold by
+    the Booksellers in Town and Country. [Price 6 _d._]
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+This is purposely to acknowledge the Obligations I owe to several
+Gentlemen, who have shewn their Esteem of the MERRY THOUGHT, in the
+large Collections they have communicated before the Holidays: For who
+knows, but many of their Pieces might have been lost, by the Effects of
+Wine, Punch, and strong Beer, in the _Christmas_ Time; or by a Game at
+Ramps, or Blind-Man's-Buff; or unlucky Boys; or the sticking the Windows
+with Holley and Ivy: All these Hazards did we run of having many curious
+Pieces destroy'd, and bury'd in Oblivion. And then again, the Cleaning
+the Windows against the Holidays might have endanger'd the Loss of many
+of these brittle Leaves of Wit and Learning. But now, we may sing _Old
+Rose_, since a large Cargoe is already arriv'd safe at the Press. In
+order for a third Part, I have myself taken Care to visit most of the
+Glasiers in Town where I just came Time enough to save some few Scraps
+of Wit; and have bribed a great Number of Football-Players, not to use
+that Diversion near some particular Places about this Great City, where
+many curious Epigrams, Sonnets, and Whims, are at present uncopy'd; and
+if they should escape a few Days longer, will make a fourth Volume, with
+the kind Assistance of those Correspondents who have sent me promissory
+Notes for the Delivery of certain Parcels of such Wit, on or about the
+Twenty-fifth of this Instant _January_. I remain, Gentlemen, after
+hoping you are in good Health, as I am at this present Writing, and
+wishing you all many happy Years,
+
+  _Your obliged humble Servant,_
+
+    HURLO THRUMBO.
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+MERRY-THOUGHT.
+
+PART III.
+
+Mr. _BOG_,
+
+The following _Miscellanea Curiosa_ you may either insert in your third
+Part, or use them for your latter Part; which you please.
+
+
+_From a Window at the Angel in Marlborough._
+
+  _W----s_ lay at the _Angel_ in _Marlborough_ Town,
+    And an Angel lay with him all Night:
+  He tipp'd her an Angel before she lay down,
+    Which you know was but decent and right.
+  But an Angel of Darkness she prov'd to be sure;
+  For scarce twenty Angels would pay for his Cure.
+
+
+_Written on the Wall at the George in Sandy-Lane, in the Bath Road,
+  a Place famous for Puddings._
+
+  The Puddings are so good in _Sandy-Lane_,
+  That if I chance to go that Way again,
+  I'll not be satisfy'd, unless I've twain,
+  The one stuck thick with Plumbs, the other plain.
+
+
+_At the Sun-Tavern at Billingsgate, written on the Wainscot._
+
+  Upon the Ground he spread his Cloak;
+    The Nymph she was not shy, Sir;
+  And there they fairly did the Joke,
+    Whilst through this Crack peep'd I, Sir.
+
+    _Oct._ 27, 1722.
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  Mr. Pimp, had I known your Worship was there,
+    Which I no more dreamt of, than sleeping,
+  When once I'd dispatch'd my Affair with the Fair,
+    By G----d, you'd paid dear for your Peeping.
+
+    _Dec._ 1722.
+
+
+_At the Red-Lion, Shrewsbury._
+
+  The Drawer, _Tom_, has scarce forgot,
+    Since I was here last _Easter_;
+  I broke his Head with the Pewter Pot,
+    And gave him not a Teaster.
+  But why, d'ye think, I serv'd him so?
+    What Flesh alive could bear it?
+  I'd call'd a dozen Times, I trow,
+    Yet the Dog would bring no Claret.
+  This Discipline was not in vain,
+    For h'as his Manners mended;
+  I've been here twenty Times since then,
+    And always well attended.
+
+
+_From a Window in Carlisle, the Sign forgot._
+
+  How says the Proverb, can it e'er be thought,
+  What's bred i'th' Bone can out o'the Flesh be brought:
+  Her Mother kiss'd with every one, and _Moll_ does plainly shew her;
+  For _Molly_ kind is kiss'd by none, but only all that know her.
+
+    I. S. 1718.
+
+
+_From another Pane in the same Place._
+
+  As dear _N----y B----k_ look'd into the Street,
+    From this Window where now I am musing,
+  I poop'd her behind, but no Body see't,
+    And she prov'd ne'er the worse for my using.
+
+    T. B.
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  Ungrateful Wretch, thou'rt scarcely fit to live,
+  Much less such Favours worthy to receive.
+  A greater Curse than leading Apes in Hell,
+  The Fool deserves, that dares to kiss and tell.
+
+
+_On the next Pane._
+
+  Dear Madam, pray dont let your Anger abound,
+    For Faith what you've wrote has no Charm in't;
+  You often have try'd me, and know I am sound,
+    Then prithee now where was the Harm in't?
+  You did me a favour, I did you one too,
+    And, if I'm not mistaken, a greater;
+  I'll swear I can't love the Sport better than you,
+    So pray say no more of the Matter.
+
+
+_In a Bog-House, at the Bush at Carlisle_, 1718.
+
+    Reader,
+
+  Within this Place two Ways I've been delighted;
+  For here I've s----, and likewise here have sh----d.
+  They both are healthful, Nature's Ease require 'em
+  And though you grin, I fancy you desire 'em.
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  What Beast alive, could bear to s----
+    In such a filthy Hole as this is;
+  The nauseous Stink, might, one would think,
+    Disturb his Taste for amorous Kisses.
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  This was wrote by some Beau, the Fop you may know,
+    His squeamish Exception would make one believe it;
+  Though the Smell where we sh----t, is not grateful a Bit,
+    Yet I ne'er knew a C----y that favour'd of Civet.
+
+
+_Oxon, on a Window._
+
+  Knowledge, thou Darling of the Soul,
+  Be thou my Help-Mate o'er a flowing Bowl;
+  Then will my Time slide easily along,
+  And ev'ry gen'rous Mortal grace our Song.
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+D----n your Knowledge, says Captain _Blunt_, swear, drink, and smoke,
+and you're an honest Fellow.
+
+    _Feb._ 13, 1720.
+
+
+_At the Devices, Wiltshire._
+
+  _Peggy_ came in with a smiling Face,
+  And every Feature had its Grace:
+  Her Cheeks were blooming, as I'd wish to see; }
+  Her something else above her Knee,            }
+  Fill'd all my Mind with Extasy;               }
+  And so we went to't.
+
+    L. T.
+
+
+_Bath, on Harrison's Windows._
+
+  I kiss'd her standing,
+    Kiss'd her lying,
+  Kiss'd her in Health,
+    And kiss'd her dying;
+  And when she mounts _the Skies_,
+    I'll kiss her flying.
+
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  Well said, my Boy.
+
+    R. S.
+
+
+_Witney, on a Window._
+
+  Debauch'd by _Henry Rig_,
+  Who gave me a Jigg,
+  But not one Grigg:
+  Howe'er he ran his Rigg.
+  But if ever I touch a Man again,
+  Unless in Matrimonial Chain,
+  I'll rather suffer craving Pain,
+  I think; ----
+  ---- Or take it once again.
+  For t'has set me a longing.
+
+    _Anne S----te._
+
+
+_At the same Place._
+
+  Give me the Lass who has a Taste of Love;
+  She I will kiss luxuriously, by _Jove_;
+  But when I meet a Woman's cold Embrace,
+  She baulks my Love; and she may kiss my A - - se.
+
+
+_Oxon, Merton-College, on a Window._
+
+  Bright is my _Silvia_, when she's drest;
+    When naked, cloath'd with wond'rous Charms:
+  Her Mein has oft my Heart opprest; }
+  Her Nakedness I have possest;      }
+  And by the last I am distrest,     }
+    By the Embraces of her Arms.
+  What can we Mortals say of Love?
+  Why? 'Tis the Pleasure of the Gods above:
+  But then, if Cl - ps proceed from Love,
+  How hot are all the Gods and Goddesses above!
+  A fine Reward, for Love for Love!
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  Avoid the Thunder-Cl - ps, and After-Cl - ps, says _Jove_.
+
+
+_A young Lady, who hang'd herself, left the following Lines upon the
+  Table._
+
+  O Death! thou pleasing End of human Woe!
+  Thou Cure of Life, thou best of Things below!
+  May'st thou for ever shun the Coward Slave,
+  And thy soft Slumbers only ease the Brave!
+
+
+_At the Bull-Inn, at Ware._
+
+_On Miss J----s._
+
+  My Good or Ill in her alone is found,
+  And in that Thought all other Cares are drown'd.
+
+    _R. G----ll._
+
+
+_Woodstock, in a Window._
+
+  Have you not in a Chimney seen
+  A sullen Faggot, wet and green,
+  How coyly it receives the Heat,
+  And at both Ends doth fume and sweat;
+  So fares it with the harmless Maid
+  When first upon her Back she's laid.
+    But the kind experienc'd Dame
+  Cracks and rejoices in the Flame.
+
+
+_Merton-College, Oxon, in a Window._
+
+_A new Reading about the three Children in the Fiery Furnace. From the
+  Hebrew._
+
+  _Shadrack_, _Mashac_, and _Abednego_:
+  If _Shadrac_ had a Fever and Ague,
+
+      Then read in _English_,
+
+  _Shadrack may shake, and a bed may go._
+
+      R. F.
+
+
+_Star, at Coventry._
+
+      What Lacing,
+      What Dressing,
+      What Moulding,
+      What Scolding,
+      What Painting,
+      What Fainting,
+      What Loving,
+      What Shoving,
+      What Cooing,
+      What Wooing,
+      What Crosses,
+      What Tosses,
+      What Actions,
+      What Fractions,
+  Before the Day was done.
+
+
+_Salisbury, on a Window._
+
+    My Dear, like a Candle,
+    Lights every one's Handle,
+  Yet loses no Bit of her own:
+    She will piss, and she'll kiss
+    Until every one hiss,
+  And she better had stay'd at Home.
+
+As she lost nothing by it, she may still remain a Light to the World.
+
+
+_Anagram._
+
+  A Toast is like a Sot,
+    Or what is most
+  Comparable ---- a Sot,
+    ---- Is like a Toast;
+  For When their Substance
+    In the Liquor sink,
+  Both properly are said
+    To be in Drink.
+
+
+_Christ-Church, Oxon, in the Bog-House._
+
+  Calami hujus Etatis
+  Sunt hujus Etatis calamitates.
+
+
+_Calais, at the Silver Lion._
+
+  At the Foot of a Bed where a Woman lay dying,
+    A Parcel of Gossips in Council were sat;
+  And instead of good Prayers, condoling and crying,
+    A _Thing_ was the Subject of all the Debate.
+  One wish'd for a thick one, and swore 'twas the best,
+    Altho' 'twere as short to the full as her Snout;
+  But a small One procur'd the Applause of the rest,
+    Provided in Length the Defect were made out.
+  Hold, quoth the sick Sister, you are all in the Wrong,
+    So I'll in a Case of this Weight to decide,
+  Heav'n send me at once both the Thick and the Long;
+    So closing her pious Petition, she dy'd.
+
+
+_Written on the pillory in a certain Market-Town in Shropshire; on two
+  Millers, named Bone and Skin, who exacted extravagant Toll._
+
+    Bone and Skin,
+    Two Millers thin,
+  Would grind this Town and Places near it:
+    But be it known
+    To Skin and Bone,
+  That Flesh and Blood won't bear it.
+
+
+_Richmond, Yorkshire, on a Window._
+
+  If Death doth come as soon as Breath departs;
+  Then he must often die, who often farts:
+  And if to die be but to lose one's Breath;
+  Then Death's a Fart, and so a Fart for Death.
+
+
+_The Motto upon a Sign of a Gardiner's Window, who kept a Publick House
+  in the Road to Cambridge; inserted for the Benefit of bad Spellers._
+
+  Heer is good Liker
+  Ov awl Quinds toby sould,
+  And sevile Yewzitch.
+
+The Learned have examin'd the above Inscription: Some took it for
+Gibberish; others for _Welch_; and some for one of the Eastern
+Languages; but a Gentlewoman of extraordinary Knowledge in this
+cramp Way of Writing, tells us, it must be read thus, in _English_:
+
+  Here is good Liquor
+  Of all Kinds to be sold,
+  And civil Usage.
+
+And so we believe it was meant; for it is allow'd by all, that some few
+of the fair Sex can explain bad Sense and bad Spelling, even better than
+most of the Heads of the Universities.
+
+
+_Oxford, in a Window at Christ-Church._
+
+  Anger may glance into the Breast of wise Men:
+    But it rests in the Bosom of Fools.
+
+
+_From the Same Place._
+
+  True Friendship multiplies our Joys;
+  It mends our Griefs, and makes them light as Toys.
+
+
+_From Queen's-College, Oxon._
+
+  All that we know of what is done above,
+  Is, that the Blessed sing, and that they love.
+
+
+_Rue de Boucharie._
+
+  Amasser en Saison,
+  Dispenser par Raison,
+  Et vous aurez une bonne Maison.
+
+
+_In a Window at an Inn on the West Country Road._
+
+  The Cook, confound her, boil'd no Roots;
+  The Hostler never clean'd my Boots;
+  The Tapster too, would hardly stir;
+  The Drawer was a lazy Cur;
+  The Chamberlain had made no Bed;
+  The Host had Maggots in his Head:
+  But _Millicent_, who kept the Bar,  }
+  Was worse than all the rest by far; }
+  She was as many others are.         }
+  I kiss'd her till she had her Fill,
+  I thought it Love, and with her Will. }
+  But then ---- ---- ----               }
+  She made a da----n'd confounded Bill. }
+
+    Captain R. T. 1718.
+
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+See the Bill Gentlemen.
+
+  Thrice was I reckon'd for my Meat;
+  Thrice was I reckon'd for Miss _Milly_'s treat;
+  Thrice was I reckon'd for my dirty Boots;
+  Thrice was I reckon'd for not having Roots;
+  Thrice was I reckon'd by the lazy Fellows;
+  And thrice I swore, I wish'd them at the Gallows;
+    And if I come here any more,
+    Then call me a Son of a Whore.
+
+    R. T. 1718.
+
+
+_Rue D'Auphine, at Paris._
+
+  O Quelle Grand Traison!
+  Les Couillions que je porte
+  Lors que leur Maitre est en prison
+  Ces Gallans d'ausant a la porte.
+
+N. B. _This is not render'd into _English_, but 'tis Ingratitude enough
+for two Servants, that have been well entertained a long while by their
+Master, should dance about a Prison Door, while their Master is in it._
+
+
+_On a Window at the Ram, Newmarket._
+
+  Come hither, dearest, sweetest Turtle-Dove;
+  You are my Goddess.--You alone I love.
+  At Night, whene'er I close my Eyes to Rest,
+  I dream of laying in your snow-white Breast.
+  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,
+  Compassion 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.
+
+
+_Peacock, 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 Lass,
+  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-Glass, in the Rue Boucharie, Paris._
+
+  Le Mond est plein de fous, & qui n'en veut point voir,
+  Doit demeurer tout seul, & casser son meroir.
+
+  The World is full of Fools and Asses,
+  To see them not---- retire and break your Glasses.
+
+
+_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.
+
+
+_On a Drinking-Glass._
+
+  Guard well your Credit, for 'tis quickly gone:
+  'Tis gain'd by many Actions, lost by one.
+
+
+_At York, in a Window._
+
+  When Mr. _H----_ was chosen Mayor,    }
+  We thought our Peace stood very fair, }
+  And hollow'd when he took the Chair.  }
+  But see how Mortals may prove civil,                }
+  They change their State from Good to Evil:          }
+  Set a Beggar on Horseback, he'll ride to the Devil. }
+        And so it prov'd.
+
+
+_From a Window in Yorkshire._
+
+  Sir ---- was chosen our Recorder,
+  Hoping he'd put our Wrongs in Order:
+  But, in Truth, the young Gentleman prov'd such a Rake,
+  That he kiss'd all our Wives, and made all our Heads ake.
+
+
+_Uxbridge, the Crown._
+
+  _Puns_ have two evil Ends:
+  Sometimes they gain us Foes,
+  Sometimes they make us lose
+                    our Friends.
+
+
+_At Epping, in a Window._
+
+  What care I, to acknowledge my Lord was my Father?   }
+  To inherit his Fortune and Weakness together;        }
+  If a Porter had got me with Health, I'd much rather. }
+
+
+_Rebus on Miss Jane Mar-tin._
+
+  To _spoil_ the _Cornish Ore_,
+  Names the Nymph that I adore.
+
+
+_Rebus on Miss Bell-a-dine._
+
+  What in a Steeple bears a Sound?
+  What in the Horn-Book first is found;
+  And eat the Meal of glorious Noon;
+  Give me, Great _Jove_, this Lady soon,
+  Whose Name the first three Lines explain:
+  Her Love's my Life, my Death is her Disdain.
+
+
+_On Miss Hatt-on._
+
+  The Pride of Quaker _John_
+  Names the Nymph I dote upon.
+
+
+_Miss Willson._
+
+  What e'er a Woman wishes most,           }
+  And that which marry'd People boast,     }
+  Speaks the dear Charmer, who's my Toast. }
+
+
+_Miss Hutch-in-son._
+
+  The Place were Rabbits are confin'd,
+    The Place where Strangers are refresh'd;
+  And what best pleas'd my Mother's Mind,
+    Tells you the Charmer of my Breast.
+
+
+_Miss Shuttle-worth._
+
+  What a Weaver will toss about all the Day long,      }
+  And a Value, whose Praise can't be nam'd in my Song, }
+  Tells the Name of my Charmer who's witty and young.  }
+
+
+_Miss Weathers._
+
+  Tell me her Name, whose Looks serene
+  Shew her a Goddess, or a Queen;
+  Who, if in turbulent Disguise,     }
+  Will make you shudder at her Eyes: }
+  For _her_, all others I despise.   }
+
+
+_Rebus on Miss Sukey Dart._
+
+  Her Name has pierc'd my Heart,     }
+  And so we'll never part;           }
+  With her I ne'er can feel a Smart. }
+
+
+_Crown at Harlow._
+
+  Death and Marriage are by Destiny,
+  And both these Things become a Maiden's Fee.
+  Whether they die between a Pair of Sheets,
+  Or live to marry, they will lose their Wits;
+  So is it destin'd by the Gods above,
+  They'll live and die by what _they_ love.
+
+    R. T. 1721.
+
+
+_York, on a Window._
+
+  What signifies your chattering, dearest _Nancy_,
+  And swearing d - n your Blood, to please your Fancy;
+  For if your Scruples find that one won't do,
+  Z----ds, cock, and prime, and then take two.
+
+    Captain J. F. 1729.
+
+
+_Uxbridge_, 1719.
+
+  Various Religions, several Tenets hold;
+  Yet all one God acknowledge, which is _Gold_.
+
+
+_Chester, in a Window_, 1726.
+
+  A Fox was drawn in for Cakes and Ale,
+  And by a fly Stratagem lost his Tail.
+  'Tis no Matter, says _Reynard_, by Dint of Persuasion, }
+  I'll make all my Brethren believe 'tis the Fashion,    }
+  Though at the same Time, he was in a d----d Passion.   }
+
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  ----Although they all come in,
+  There's none can laugh, but those that win.
+  New Fashions are Gins that I mortally hate;
+  I'll keep my old Fashion, and keep my Estate.
+          No coaxing, no wheedling, good Mr. Fox.
+                                 _Recruiting Officer._
+
+  Getting is a Chance; but keeping is a Virtue.
+
+
+_Devil-Tavern_, 1721.
+
+  Whene'er a Man has gain'd his Ends,
+  He is encompass'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 Glass 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 Compass of the Flute._
+
+[Illustration: 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 Bum 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-butt_,
+  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._
+
+  Her Step delivers those her Eyes enslave,
+  She looks to conquer, but she treads to save.
+
+
+_From a Window at Kidderminster, Worcestershire._
+
+_A Scrap of a Lady's Life._
+
+  When first she wakes, a Sigh or two she fetches,
+  Then rubs her Eyes,----and Arms and Legs she stretches!
+  Oh! for a Husband, out she gently cries,
+  If he were here,----he would not let me rise;
+  But I must up, for Fear my Love should stay,
+  And we should be too late at the new Play.
+  Here, _Jenny_, reach my Slippers, bring the Pot;
+  Then out she jumps, and down she gives a Squat,
+  I think I need not tell you what to do,
+  And then she lets a merry Crack or two.
+
+    W. Overb - - ry.
+
+
+_Bog-House at Ludlow._
+
+  Two pitiful Dukes at our Race did appear;
+  One bespoke him a Girl, the other new Geer,
+  And both went away without paying I hear,
+  For the Cheat lov'd his Money, and so did the Peer.
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  You Rogue, Taylor shan't catch me, while your Legs they are cross'd.
+  Don't cry, my dear Girl, since you have got more than you lost.
+
+
+_FINIS._
+
+
+
+
+                      The
+
+                 MERRY-THOUGHT:
+
+                    or, the
+
+          Glass-Window and Bog-House
+
+                  MISCELLANY.
+
+                  Taken from
+
+  The Original Manuscripts written in _Diamond_
+    by Persons of the first Rank and Figure in _Great
+    Britain_; relating to Love, Matrimony, Drunkenness,
+    Sobriety, Ranting, Scandal, Politicks, Gaming,
+    and many other Subjects, _Serious_ and _Comical_.
+
+  Faithfully Transcribed from the Drinking-Glasses and
+    Windows in the several noted _Taverns_, _Inns_, and
+    other _Publick Places_ in this Nation.
+
+  _Published by_ HURLO THRUMBO.
+
+    _Gameyorum, Wildum, Gorum,
+    Gameyorum a Gamy,
+    Flumarum a Flumarum,
+    A Rigdum Bollarum
+    A Rigdum, for a little Gamey._
+
+        Bethleham-Wall, Moor-Fields.
+
+
+  PART IV.
+
+    _LONDON_:
+
+  Printed for J. ROBERTS in _Warwick-Lane_; and Sold by
+    the Booksellers in Town and Country. [Price 6 _d._]
+
+
+
+
+_N. B._ There being a great Number of these Pieces of Wit and Humour at
+most Places of publick Resort in this Kingdom, it is hoped that all, who
+are pleased with, or willing to promote this Design, will be so good as
+to collect and send them to the Publisher hereof. The Editor does not
+care how merry they are, provided they are not obscene.
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+MERRY-THOUGHT.
+
+
+PART IV.
+
+To the EDITOR of the Glass-Window, _&c._ Miscellany.
+
+
+_Mr._ BOG,
+
+Where Wit and Learning (as at present in this our Isle) so much abound,
+great Marvel it is to me, That so worthy a Compiler of other Men's
+Labours as yourself, should be put to the little mean Shifts of copying
+from such _Cacascriptores_, who have from _Hudibras_, _Tom Brown_, and
+others of the like Rank, their little Bits and Scraps, basely purloined,
+whereby you run a Risque of being deem'd yourself a Plagiary: Nor is it
+less unbecoming the Dignity and Fidelity of your Undertaking, to supply
+the Want of Application and Diligence, by filling up your lifeless Pages
+with Musical Punctations, as vile and unrelishing as ever echo'd from
+your own natural Bagpipe. Therefore, that you may the better be enabled
+these Indecencies equally to avoid, I send you the following
+_Collectanea Nasutula_: If you honour them, I shall honour your next
+Performance; if not, _Non cuicunque datum est habere nasum_.
+
+
+_From a Boghouse near _Lincoln's-Inn-Fields_._
+
+_The_ WISH.
+
+    Oh! may our Senate, learn'd and great,
+    (In order to perpetuate
+    The tuneful Strains and witty Flights,
+    Of him that Studies while he sh - - ts)
+    Decree all Landlords, thro' the Nation,
+    Shall lay (on Pain of Flagellation)
+    In some meet Corner of their Dark Hole
+    A cuspidated Piece of Charcoal;
+    Or, where the Walls are cas'd with Wainscot,
+    A Piece of Chalk with equal Pains cut;
+    That those who labour at both Ends,
+    To ease themselves, and serve their Friends,
+    May not, reluctant, go from Sh - - t,
+    And leave no Relict of their Wit,
+    For want of necessary Tools
+    To impart the _Proles_ of their Stools:
+    Then _Cibber_'s Odes, and _Tindal_'s Sense,
+    _Caleb_ and _Henley_'s Eloquence,
+    _Woolston_, and all such learned Sophi's,
+    Would be cut down in House-of-Office:
+    _Oxford_ and _Cambridge_ too would join
+    Their Puns, to make the Boghouse shine
+    Each learn'd Society would try all
+    (From lowest Club, to that call'd Royal,)
+    To furnish something might improve
+    Religion, Politicks, or Love:
+    Grand _Keyber_, Gormogons, Free Masons,
+    And _Heydeger_, with all his gay Sons,
+    Would find to suit, with Lectures there,
+    Their Intellectuals to a Hair:
+  _Bodens_ might pick up Wit from thence, and lay
+  The _Drama_ of another Modish Play.
+  So wise a Law would doubtless tend
+  To prove our Senate, Learning's Friend;
+  Whilst Trade, and such like fond Chimeras,
+  Might wait more fit and leisure _AEra's._
+
+
+_From a Window at the _Dolphin_ Inn in _Southampton_._
+
+  The Wedding-Night past, says Sir _John_ to his Mate,
+  Faith Madam I'm bit (tho' I find it too late)
+  By your d - - - n'd little Mouth, or else I'm a Whore's Son,
+  For the Cross underneath's quite out of Proportion.
+  Good Sir _John_, says my Lady, then under the Rose,
+  I'm as bad bit as you, by your plaguy long Nose:
+  You have not by half so much as I wanted,
+  I've more than you want, yet y'are not contented.
+
+
+_From the Playhouse Boghouse._
+
+  Good Folks, sh - - t and write, and mend honest Bog's Trade,
+  For when you sh - - t Rhymes, you help him to Bread:
+  He'el feed on a Jest, that is broke with your Wind,
+  And fatten on what you here leave behind.
+
+
+_From A Boghouse at the _White Hart_, Petersfield._
+
+  Were this Place to be view'd by a Herald of Note,
+  He would find a new Charge for the next new-bought Coat,
+  Which _Guillim_ ne'er thought of, nor one of the Herd,
+  _Viz._ a Wall erect Argent, _Gutte de T----d._
+  And as a Reward, for improving the Art,
+  He should bear on a Fess (if he paints it) a F - - - t.
+
+
+_Underwritten._
+
+  A Pox on your writing, I thought you were sh - - - - g,
+    My great Gut has giv'n me such Twitches:
+  Had you scribled much more, I'm a Son of a Whore,
+    If I should not have don't in my Breeches.
+
+
+_From the _White Lyon_, _Bristol_._
+
+    I'm witty, I'll Write,
+    I'm valiant, I'll Fight,
+  And take all that's said in my own Sense:
+    In Liquor I'm sunk,
+    And confoundedly drunk,
+  So there is the Source of this Nonsense.
+
+
+_From the same Place._
+
+  A Wretch, whom Fortune has been pleas'd to rowl
+  From the Tip-top of her enchanted Bowl,
+  Sate musing on his Fate, but could not guess,
+  Nor give a Reason for her Fickleness:
+  Such Thoughts as these would ne'er his Brain perplex,
+  Did he but once reflect upon her Sex:
+  For how could he expect, or hope to see,
+  In Woman either Truth or Constancy.
+
+
+_Written on the Wall of one of the Summer-Houses in _Gray's-Inn_ Walks,
+  under a curious Piece of Drawing._
+
+  Come hither, Heralds, view this Coat,
+    'Twill bear Examination,
+  'Tis ancient, and derives its Note
+    From the first Pair's Creation.
+  The Field is _Luna_, _Mars_ a Pale,
+    Within an Orle of _Saturn_;
+  Charg'd with two Pellets at the Tail:
+    Pray take it for a Pattern.
+
+_Under-written._
+
+  I don't see your _Luna_, nor _Saturn_, nor _Mars_,
+  But I see her ---- plain, and I see his bare A - - se.
+
+
+_From another Place in the same Walks._
+
+  Could fairest dear _Eliza_ know how much I love,
+  My Story might, at least, her gen'rous Pity move;
+  Her Pity's all my Hope, nor durst I more implore,
+  With that I still might live, and still her Charms adore.
+
+_Under-written._
+
+  Poor Wretch, alas! I pity Thee with all my heart,
+  Since that, it seems, alone will cure thy Love-sick Smart:
+  For he that has not Courage further to implore,
+  May surely have our Pity, but deserves no more.
+
+
+_From a _Bog-House_ at the _George-Inn_ in _Whitchurch_._
+
+  From costive Stools, and hide-bound Wit,
+  From Bawdy Rhymes, and Hole besh - - t.
+  From Walls besmear'd with stinking Ordure,
+  By Swine who nee'r provide Bumfodder
+      _Libera Nos_ ----
+
+
+_Upon a Pillar at the _Royal-Exchange_._
+
+  This City is a World that's full of Streets,
+  And Death's the Market-Place where Mankind meets;
+  If Life were Merchandize, that Men could buy,
+  The Rich would only live, the Poor must die.
+
+
+_In the Window of a _Green-House_ near _Tunbridge_._
+
+  Sitting on yon Bank of Grass,
+  With a blooming buxom Lass;
+  Warm with Love, and with the Day,
+  We to cool us went to play.
+  Soon the _am'rous_ Fever fled,
+  But left a worse _Fire_ in its Stead.
+  Alas! that _Love_ should cause such Ills!
+  As doom to _Diet-Drink_ and _Pills_.
+
+
+_An Encomium on a _Fart_._
+
+  I sing the Praises of a _Fart_.
+  That I may do't by Rules of _Art_.
+  I will invoke no _Deity_,
+  But _Butter'd-Pease_ and _Furmity_;
+  And think their Help sufficient
+  To sit and furnish my Intent:
+  For sure I must not use _high Strains_,
+  For fear it bluster out in _Grains_.
+  When _Virgil_'s _Gnat_, and _Ovid_'s _Flea_,
+  And _Homer_'s _Frogs_ strive for the Day;
+  There is no Reason in my Mind,
+  That a brave _Fart_ should come _behind_:
+  Since that you may it _parallel_,
+  With any Thing that doth _excel_.
+  _Musick_ is but a _Fart_ that's sent
+  From the _Guts_ of an _Instrument_:
+  The Scholar _farts_; but when he gains
+  Learning with _cracking_ of his Brains;
+  And having spent much Pain and Oil,
+  _Thomas_ and _Dun_ to reconcile,
+  For to learn the abstracting _Art_,
+  What does he get by't? Not a _Fart_.
+  The Soldier makes his Foes to run
+  With but the _Farting_ of a Gun;
+  That's if he make the _Bullet whistle_,
+  Else 'tis no better than a _Fizzle_:
+  And if withal the Winds do stir-up
+  Rain, 'tis but a _Fart_ in Syrrup.
+  They are but _Farts_, the _Words_ we say,
+  Words are but _Wind_, and so are they.
+  Applause is but a _Fart_, the crude
+  _Blast_ of the fickle Multitude.
+  The Boats that lie the _Thames_ about,
+  Be but _Farts_ several Docks let out.
+  Some of our _Projects_ were, I think,
+  But politick _Farts_, _Foh! how they stink_!
+  As soon as born, they by-and-by,
+  _Fart-like_, but only breathe, and die.
+  _Farts_ are as good as _Land_, for both
+  We hold _in Tail_, and _let_ them both:
+  Only the Difference here is, that
+  _Farts_ are _let_ at a lower _Rate_.
+  I'll say no more, for this is right,
+  That for my _Guts_ I cannot write;
+  Though I should study all my Days,
+  Rhimes that are worth the Thing I praise:
+  What I have said, take in good Part,
+  If not, I do not care a _Fart_.
+
+
+_Written in Chalk under the _George-Inn_ Sign at _Farnham_._
+
+  St. _George_ to save a _Maid_, a _Dragon_ slew,
+  A gallant Action, grant the Thing be true.
+  Yet some say there's no _Dragons_.----Nay, tis said,
+  There's no _St. George_----Pray Heav'n there be a _Maid_.
+
+
+_In the Window of a fine _Assembly-Room_ on a vast Appearance at its
+  Opening._
+
+  The Novelty this Crowd invites,
+  'Tis strange, and therefore it delights;
+  For Folks Things eagerly pursue,
+  Not that they're good, but that they're new.
+  Pleasure must vary, or must cease,
+  We tire of Bliss, grow sick of Ease.
+  And if the Year we're doom'd to Play,
+  To Work would be a Holiday.
+
+
+_Over the Gate of _Redgrave Hall_, on a Visit made by Queen _Elizabeth_
+  to Sir _Nicholas Bacon_, then Lord Keeper._
+
+  When great ELIZA saw at _Redgrave-Hall_,
+  The Apartments _few_, and those indeed but _small_,
+  Thus to its _Lord_, bespoke the gracious QUEEN;
+  Methinks for _you_, this _Mansion_ is too _mean_.
+  _For me, my Liege_, quoth he, _of old 'twas meet,
+  But _you_ have made _me_ for my _House--too great.
+
+
+_Written by Sir _Thomas Moor_._
+
+  At last I've found a _Haven_ where,
+  I'll ride secure from _Hope_ or _Fear_.
+  Thy Game is, _Fortune_, o'er with me, }
+  And thou to others now may'st _flee_  }
+  To cheat them with _Inconstancy_.     }
+
+
+_The Nature of Women: From a _Summer-House_ near _Richmond_._
+
+  Fair and foolish, little and loud,
+  Long and lazy, black and proud;
+  Fat and merry, lean and sad,
+  Pale and peevish, red and bad.
+
+
+_The Nature of Men from the same._
+
+  To a Red Man read thy Read;
+  To a Brown Man break thy Bread;
+  At a Pale Man draw thy Knife;
+  From a Black Man keep thy Wife.
+
+
+_In a Chamber Window in _Queen's College, Cambridge_._
+
+  Our _Bodies_ are like _Shoes_, which oft we _cast_,
+  _Physick_ the _Cobler_ is, and _Death_ the _Last_.
+
+
+_On a Tomb._
+
+  Here, in their last Bed,
+  The loving _Alice_ rests with her Love _Ned_.
+
+_Underwritten by a _Cambridge_ Schollar._
+
+  _Viator siste! ecce miraculum!
+  Vir & Uxor, hic non litigant._
+
+_Which in _English_ may stand thus._
+
+  Behold a Bed, where, without Strife,
+  There rests a Man, and eke his Wife.
+
+
+_Tom of _Bedlam_'s Sentiments on Marriage._
+
+  One ask'd a Madman, if a Wife he had,
+  A Wife! quoth he.----No!----I'm not quite so mad.
+
+
+_In the Vaults belonging to Trinity College, _Cambridge_, there is cut
+  the Form of a Tobacco-Box, with this Inscription:_
+
+  Pandora's Treasure.
+
+_Underneath,_
+
+  Tobacco, that outlandish Weed,
+  It dries the Brain, and spoils the Seed;
+  It dulls the Spirit, it dims the Sight,
+  It robs a Woman of her Right.
+
+
+_An Epitaph on a Wicked Man's Tomb. Written by Doctor _Wild_ the famous
+  Non-Conformist Minister._
+
+  Beneath this Stone there lies a cursed Sinner,
+  Doom'd to be roasted for the Devil's Dinner.
+
+
+_In the Vaults at _Chelsea_, and in an hundred other Places._
+
+  When the Devil was sick, the Devil a Monk would be,
+  When the Devil was well, the Devil a Monk was he.
+
+
+_Sir _Walter Raleigh_ on the Snuff of a Candle the Night before he
+  died._
+
+  Cowards fear to die, but Courage stout,
+  Rather than live in Snuff, will put it out.
+
+
+_On Marriage: In a Window at _Tunbridge_._
+
+  If 'tis to marry when the Knot is ty'd,
+  Why then they marry, who at _Tyburn_ ride.
+  And if that Knot, 'till Death, is loos'd by none,
+  Why then to marry, and be hang'd's all one.
+
+
+_In a Window in a Public-House, near _Tunbridge_._
+
+        Sing High Ding a Ding,
+        And Ho Ding a Ding,
+        I'm finely brought to Bed;
+  My Lord has stole that troublesome Thing,
+      That Folks call a Maidenhead.
+
+    _Jane Hughs_ eighteen Years of Age.
+
+
+_A little below it, in the same Window._
+
+        Then sing High Ding a Ding,
+        And Ho Ding a Ding,
+        You're finely brought to Bed;
+  For something you've got for that troublesome Thing,
+    A Cl--p for a Maidenhead.
+
+    _By my Lord's Gentleman._
+
+
+_Written in the first Leaf of _Arbor Vitae_._
+
+  Two D - - - s, and a Doctor, 'tis said, wrote this Piece,
+  Who were modest as Whores, and witty as Geese.
+  They penn'd it, it seems, to shew their great Parts,
+  Their Skill in Burlesque, and their Knowledge in Arts
+  But what say the Town----that 't has fully desected,
+  That Fools they are all----which had long been suspected.
+
+
+_At the _Red Lyon_ at _Egham_, and in the Windows at many other Places._
+
+  _Cornutus_ call'd his Wife both Whore and Slut,
+  Quoth she, you'll never leave your Brawling--but--
+  But, what? quoth he: Quoth she, the Post or Door;
+  For you have Horns to But, if I'm a Whore.
+
+
+_In a Window at the Pudding-House in the Road to _Islington_._
+
+  The End of all, and in the End
+  The Praise of all depends:
+  A Pudding merits double Praise,
+  Because it hath two Ends.
+
+
+_Underneath it._
+
+  A Pudding hath two Ends; You lye, my Brother,
+  For it begins at one, and ends at t'other.
+
+
+_On Marriage. By a Batchelor._
+
+  Wedding and Hanging, both the Fates dispatch.
+  Yet Hanging seems to me the better Match.
+
+
+_In a Window at _Bath_._
+
+_On a Gentleman's saying he had calculated his Son's Nativity, the Boy
+  being then about nine Days old._
+
+  _Lavinia_ brought to Bed, her Husband looks
+  To know the Bantling's Fortune in his Books.
+  Wiser he'd been, had he look'd backward rather,
+  And seen for certain, who had been its Father.
+
+
+_In the Vaults at _Tunbridge_._
+
+  Dung, when scatter'd o'er the Plain,
+  Causes noble Crops of Grain:
+  Dung in Gardens too we want,
+  To cherish ev'ry springing Plant.
+  Corn and Plants since Dung affords,
+  We eat as well as sh---- our T----ds.
+
+
+_Written in the Window of a Lady's Chamber, who on a slight
+  Indisposition sent for _S. J. S.__
+
+  The Doctor more than Illness we should fear;
+    Sickness precedes, and Death attends his Coach,
+  Agues to Fevers rise, if he appear,
+    And Fevers grow to Plagues at his Approach.
+
+
+_On Miss _Green_._
+
+    What gives the pleasant Mead its Grace,
+  What spreads at Spring Earth's smiling Face,
+  What jolly Hunters chuse to wear,
+  Gives Name to her whose Chains I bear.
+
+
+_On Miss _Partridge_ of _Ely_._
+
+  That of the pretty feather'd Race,
+  Which most doth courtly Tables grace,
+  And o'er the Mountains bends it Flight,
+  Or lurks in Fields with Harvest bright;
+  For whose Destruction Men with Care,
+  The noblest Canine Breed prepare,
+  Bestows a Name on that fair Maid
+  Whose Eyes to Love my Heart betray'd.
+
+
+_On Miss _Sk----_ at _Tunbridge_._
+
+  The _Irish_ have a certain Root,
+  Our Parsnip's very like unto't,
+  Which eats with Butter wond'rous well,
+  And like Potatoes makes a Meal.
+  Now from this Root there comes a Name,
+  Which own'd is by the beauteous Dame,
+  Who sways the Heart of _him_ who rules
+  A mighty Herd of Knaves and Fools.
+
+
+_A _Rebus_ written in one of the Windows of a large House near _Epsom_._
+
+  The Court of Love's assembled here,
+  'Tis _Venus_ Queen of Beauty's Sphere,
+  In all her Charms she stands confest,
+  And rules supreme the noblest Breast.
+  Ye Shepherds would ye learn the Name
+  Of her who spreads so vast a Flame,
+  Know that 'tis hid from the Prophane;
+  And that your strictest Search is _Vain_.
+
+
+_In a Window of the Great Room at _Scarborough_._
+
+  What strange Vicissitudes we see
+    In Pleasure, as in Realms take Place
+  For nothing here can constant be,
+    Where springing Joys the old efface.
+  The Theatre, of Yore the Field
+    Of Conquests, gain'd by blooming Maids,
+  Now must to modern Operas yield,
+    As they, to courtly Masquerades.
+  Nor better fares those sweet Retreats
+    Which they in sultry Summer chose:
+  Since _Scarb'rough_, Paradise of Sweets!
+    On ruined _Bath_ and _Tunbridge_ rose.
+
+
+_Traced with a Smoke of a Candle in _Newgate_._
+
+  _Dick_, on two Words, thought to maintain him ever:
+  The first was _Stand_, and next to _Stand, Deliver_.
+  But _Dick_'s in _Newgate_, and he fears shall never,
+  Be blest again with that sweet Word _Deliver_.
+
+
+_In the Window of a Coffee-House at _Richmond_._
+
+  My _Chloe_ is an Angel bright,
+  But _Chloe_'s common----so is Light.
+  And who with _Phoebus_ Fault shall find,
+  Because his Beams to all are kind.
+
+
+_On a Pannel at the Rose._
+
+  _Nanny Meadowes_ has undone me,
+  From myself her Charms have won me.
+  With Love's blazing Flames I die,
+  Whither, whither shall I fly!
+
+_Underneath._
+
+  Prithee, Coxcomb, without Whining,
+  Say thou hast a mind to Sinning
+  With a Guinea, do but ask her,
+  Love you'll find----is no hard Task, Sir.
+
+
+_On a long-winded Preacher at _Coventry_: From a Window there._
+
+  Twelve Minutes, and one tedious Hour
+    _Mills_ kept me once in Pain,
+  But if I had it my Power,
+    He ne'er should preach again.
+
+
+_A _Liliputian_ ODE. Composed at _Tunbridge_._
+
+  Charming _Molly_,
+  Cease your Folly,
+  Learn to ease me,
+  No more teaze me.
+  Love's but Reason
+  When in Season:
+  Nay, 'tis Duty,
+  Youth and Beauty
+  To improve
+  In happy Love.
+  Therefore, _Molly_,
+  Cease your Folly,
+  And instead of being coy,
+  Give, O give your Lover Joy!
+
+_The _Fair Lady's Answer_. In the same Measure._
+
+  Rhiming _Billy_,
+  Soft and silly,
+  Are the verses,
+  Muse rehearses,
+  When with straining
+  You're obtaining
+  Her Assistance
+  'Gainst Resistance,
+  Made by Mistress
+  To your Distress.
+  Therefore early
+  Quit them fairly,
+  If you'd be rid of Woe,
+  Prithee, Prithee, Coxcomb, do.
+
+
+_The Clowns and the Conjurer. By a Lady._
+
+  A Clown, who had lost his Mare,
+  To his Neighbour, a Wit, did repair,
+  And begg'd him with him to go
+  To the famous Doctor _Foreknow_,
+  A Conjurer powerful and strong,
+  Who would tell who had done the Wrong.
+  So when to the Door they came,
+  The Wit, he besh - - t the same:
+  Then knocking -- the Doctor appears,
+  And in Midst of his Passion he swears,
+  If he knew but the nasty Dog
+  Who had sh - - t at his Gate like a Rogue,
+  He'd do to him Lord knows what.
+  Quoth the Wit -- why know you not that?
+  Then, Neighbour, e'en save your Pence,
+  For his Learning is all a Pretence:
+  If he knows not who sh - t----of course,
+  He nothing can know of your Horse.
+  And no Light can his Figures afford,
+  Whose Conjuring's not worth a T----
+  So as wise our two Clowns came Home,
+  As any who on such Errands roam.
+
+
+_On a Pannel at the Faulcon in _St. Neot_'s _Huntingdonshire_._
+
+      My Maidenhead sold for a Guinea,
+        A lac'd Head with the Money I bought;
+      In which I look'd so bonny,
+        The Heart of a Gamester I caught:
+  A while he was fond, and brought Gold to my Box,
+  But at last he robb'd me, and left me the P----
+
+_Underneath._
+
+  When you balance Accounts, it sure may be said,
+  You at a bad Market sold your Maidenhead.
+
+
+_The _Inamorato_. In a Window at _Twickenham_._
+
+  When dull and melancholy,
+  I rove to charming _Dolly_,
+  Whose Sweetness doth so charm me,
+  And wanton Tricks so warm me,
+  That quite dissolv'd in Love,
+  No Trouble then I prove,
+  But am as truly blest
+  Upon her panting Breast,
+  As if to me she brought
+  All for which _Caesar_ fought:
+  For I, like _Anthony_,
+  With Beauty would be free,
+  Altho' again't shou'd cost
+  The Price of Empire lost.
+
+_An _Answer_. In the next Pane._
+
+  You sure were full of Folly,
+  When in the Praise of _Dolly_,
+  You wrote your am'rous Ditty,
+  Which sure deserves her Pity,
+  Since plainly it doth prove,
+  Your Brain is crack'd with Love;
+  Who else would talk of giving
+  An Empire for a ----
+  When Twenty will down           }
+  Each for a Silver Crown,        }
+  And thank you when they've done }
+
+
+_In a Window. At _Lebeck's-Head_._
+
+  If it be true each Promise is a Debt,
+  Then _Celia_ hardly will her Freedom get;
+  Yet she, to satisfy her Debts, desires
+  To yield her Body as the Law requires.
+
+
+_In the _Summer-House_ on _Gray's Inn Terras_._
+
+  Who speaks to please in ev'ry Way,
+    And not himself offend,
+  He may begin to work to Day,
+    But Heaven knows when he'll end.
+
+
+_In the same Place._
+
+  Dogs on their Masters fawn and leap,
+    And wag their Tails apace,
+  So tho' a Flatterer wants a Tail,
+    His Tongue supplies its Place.
+
+
+_In a Window of the _Rene-Deer-Inn_ at _Bishop's-Strafford_._
+
+  He that loves a Glass without a G,
+  Leave out L, and that is he.
+
+
+_Wrote with a Pencil on a Pannel in one of the Courts of Justice in
+  _Guild-Hall_._
+
+    To go to Law
+    I have no Maw,
+  Altho' my Suit be sure,
+    For I may lack
+    Cloaths to my Back,
+  E'er I that Suit procure.
+
+
+_At the Tuns in _Cambridge_. Written with a Pencil on the Wall._
+
+  Marriage in Days of old has liken'd been
+    Unto a publick Feast, or Revel Rout,
+  Where those who are without would fain get in,
+    And those who are within would fain get out.
+
+
+_On two old Maids: Written with a Pencil in the _Pump Room_ at _Bath_._
+
+  Why are _Doll_'s Teeth so white, and _Susan_'s black?
+    The Reason soon is known.
+  _Doll_ buys her Teeth which she doth lack,
+    But _Susan_ wears her own.
+
+
+_In a Window, at the _Rose-Tavern_ in _Catherine-Street_._
+
+_On Mrs. _C---- P----__
+
+  So early _Con_ began the wanton Trade,
+  She scarce remembers when she was a Maid.
+
+
+_In the Window of a Sharper's Chambers in the _Temple_._
+
+  Oft with an Oath has _Cog_ the Gamester said,
+  That no Disease should make him keep his Bed,
+  Urg'd for a Reason, I have heard him tell it,
+  To keep my Word----in Troth I mean to sell it.
+
+
+_In a Bog-House at _Putney_._
+
+  The Poor have _little_, Beggars _none_,
+  The Rich _too much_, _enough_, not one.
+
+
+_Written at the Request of a Lady who on her Wedding Day entreated an
+  old Lover to write something upon her in the Window._
+
+  This glittering Diamond, and this worthless Glass,
+  _Celia_, display thy Virtue and thy Face;
+  Bright as the Brilliant while thy Beauty shows
+  Ev'n Glass itself's less brittle than thy Vows.
+
+
+_The _Italian_ Gout._
+
+  If a Man lets a Fart in fair _Italy_,
+  From Lovers he never is after free;
+  For why ---- amongst those Dons, 'tis said,
+  'Tis a certain Sign of a Male Maidenhead.
+
+
+_In a Window of a certain Lady of Pleasure's Lodgings in _Bow-Street_._
+
+      When with _Phillis_ toying,
+      Eager for enjoying,
+      What Muse can say
+      How sweet our Play,
+      What Numbers tell
+      The Joys we feel?
+      Happy Lovers only know
+      Bliss unmix'd with any Woe.
+
+  The Ambitious when rais'd to the Summit of Power,
+  In the Midst of their Joy fear that Fortune may lower;
+  The Miser, who Thousands has heap'd in his Chest,
+  In the Midst of Riches is never at rest.
+  And the Heroe, whose Bosom his Glory still warms,
+  In the Midst of his Conquests fears the Change of his Arms.
+  But the Lover, whose Fondness his Hours doth employ,
+  In the Midst of her Charms knows no End of his Joy.
+
+      Then quit Hopes of rising,
+      And Riches despising,
+      Leave the Camp and the Court
+      For Love's pleasing Sport;
+      By Experience you'll know,                         }
+      Love's Pleasure's still flow,                      }
+      Un-embitter'd with Care, and untinctur'd with Woe. }
+
+
+_In a Window at _Parson's-Green_._
+
+_The Lover's Retreat._
+
+  From meaner Pleasure I retire,
+    Yet real Happiness pursue;
+  Friendship and Love my Breast inspire,
+    And I have met them both in you,
+
+  Whatever in my Wish had Place,
+    In thee, my lovely Fair, I find;
+  All that's beauteous in thy Face,
+    And all that's virtuous in thy Mind.
+
+
+_Written by Mr. ---- in _Chloe_'s Bed-Chamber._
+
+  Wou'd you know the true Road that to Pleasure doth lead,
+  Then this Way, ye Swains, your Footsteps must tread.
+  And then for the Piece which this Pleasure doth cost,
+  Why, 'tis only a Guinea, you can't think it lost.
+  Since Supper and Lodging, and Mistress and all,
+  Nay, and Maid, if you like her, are ready at Call.
+
+
+_The _Thief_ and the _Doctor_._
+
+  A Thief a Parson stopp'd on the Highway,
+  And having bid him stand, next bid him pay.
+  The Parson drew his sword, for well he durst,
+  And quickly put his Foe unto the Worst.
+  Sir, (quoth the Thief) I by your Habit see,
+  You are a Churchman, and Debate should flee,
+  You know 'tis written in the sacred Word,
+  _Jesus_ to _Peter_ said, _Put up thy Sword_:
+  True, (quoth the Parson) but withal then hear,
+  St. _Peter_ first had cut off _Malchus_'s Ear.
+
+
+__Pasquin_ against _P. S. Quintus_, when he forbid the Bawdy-Houses at
+  _Rome_, in Queen _Elizabeth_'s Time._
+
+  _Lex prohibet Pueros, prohibet Lupanaria Sixtus;_
+    _Ergo quid agendum? Sit tibi amica manus._
+
+
+_The Cure of Love._
+
+  Love is, as some Physicians say,
+    A Fever bred by too high Feeding:
+  To cure it then the speediest Way,
+    Would be by Purging, and by Bleeding.
+
+
+_Written in the Window of the Bar of the _White-Swan-Tavern_ of the City
+  of _Norwich_._
+
+Mcccmixixx.
+
+  ---- ---- ---- _firmissima vina,_
+  ---- ---- ---- _reponite mensis,_
+  ---- ---- ---- _& pocula porgite dextris._
+
+
+_In the Bog-House of the same Tavern._
+
+  Six Pennyworth of Whiting,        }
+  A Hole to let Light in,           }
+  Will make it fit to sh - - te in. }
+
+_Underneath._
+
+  By what's above, I welly ween,
+  The Fool wants Light to sh - t him clean.
+
+
+_In a Bog-House in _St. Michael_'s Parish in _Norwich_._
+
+  _Tim Kirby_, _Peter Harrod_, and _Will Hall_,
+  Are three fit Pieces for a Bog-House Wall.
+
+_Underneath. By another._
+
+  But _Old Nick_ has got them all.
+
+
+_Written in a Bog-House at _Ipswich_._
+
+  _Si desit stramen, cum digito terge Feramen._
+
+_In _English_. By another._
+
+  If you cannot get some Grass,
+  With your Finger wipe your A - - se
+
+_And under that, by another._
+
+  Such wretched _Latin_, and such wretched Verse,
+  Are proper _Stremina_ to clean my A - - se.
+
+
+_In a Window at _Mount Ephraim_, near _Tunbridge_:_
+
+_A Dialogue between a Lover and a Poet._
+
+  _Lov._ What is bright _Celia_ like, Dear Poet, say?
+  _Poet._ Why _Celia_, Sir, is like a Summer's Day.
+  _Lov._ Who to a Day could liken such a Woman?
+  _Poet._ Is she not very _fair_, and very _common_?
+
+
+_Written with a Pencil in the Vault at _Chelsea College_._
+
+  Who scribbles on the Wall when he's at sh - -,
+  May sure be said to have a Flux of Wit.
+
+
+_In the Vaults at _Tunbridge_._
+
+  Like Claret-Drinkers Stools, a Blockhead's Brain;
+  Hardly conceives what it brings forth with Pain.
+  Such is my Case----who, while I'm thus inditing,
+  Prove the Analogy 'twixt it and Sh------.
+
+
+_Written on the Window of a Coffee-House._
+
+_Underneath, Coffee, Tea,_ &c.
+
+  The Mistress by her Window's represented,
+  For why, 'tis brittle Ware, and painted.
+
+
+_On a Butcher's marrying a Tanner's Daughter at _Reading_._
+
+  A fitter Match there never could have been,
+  Since here the _Flesh_ is wedded to the _Skin_.
+
+
+_At _Tunbridge_._
+
+  _Chloe_ is fair as _Fields_ in Autumn seen,
+  Her Temper gentle as the purling _Stream_:
+  That's true; but then with those the rest conspire,
+  Lighter she is than _Air_, and hot as _Fire_.
+
+
+_In Mrs. _Cowser_'s Window; in _Russel-Street_, _Covent-Garden_._
+
+
+    Love, 'tis said, his Arrows shooting,
+    Wounds is ever distributing;
+    But before I felt, I knew not,
+    That in Poison dipp'd they flew hot.
+
+        To _Jenny_ I owe
+        That this Secret I know,
+        For her I felt Smart
+        At first in my Heart;
+
+  Which quickly she cur'd: But alack and alas!
+  I now feel a Throbbing in a much lower Place.
+  To _Jenny_ I went; but, alas! it was in vain:
+  Though she gave me the Wound, she can't cure me again.
+
+
+_An Epitaph on an old Maid._
+
+  Beneath this Place there lies an ancient Maid,
+  Whose secret Parts no Man did e'er invade;
+  Scarce her own Finger she'd permit to touch
+  That Virgin Part, altho' it itched much.
+  And in her last expiring dying Groans,
+  Desir'd no Tomb, if it was built with Stones.
+
+
+_The Effects of Love._
+
+  Love is the sweetest softest Passion,
+    That can warm the human Soul;
+  'Tis a gentle Inclination
+    Which doth ev'ry Care controul:
+
+      Thro' our Bosom Love diffusing,
+      Tender Thoughts is ever choosing;
+      Softest Words its Flame expressing,
+      Towards the Dame our Heart possessing.
+
+  Love still gentle makes and easy,
+    Soft in ev'ry Thing we do;
+  Bent on all Things that may please ye,
+    Men are Angels when they Woo.
+
+
+_This was wrote somewhere; and means something, if you can find it out._
+
+  A Beauty like her's whose Charms I now sing,
+  Ne'er sparkled in vain in the Box or the Ring;
+  No Youth of Distinction who gaz'd on her Eyes,
+  E'er retir'd, but he left her his Heart as her Prize.
+  Vain are all their Endeavours, for still the coy Maid,
+  At the Mention of Marriage, look'd strangely afraid,
+  Nor e'er thought of yeilding----until not long since
+  Eluding dull Ties----she was join'd to a P----
+
+
+_FINIS._
+
+
+
+
+_Entertaining PAMPHLETS just Printed._
+
+
+1. THE MERRY-THOUGHT: Or, _The Glass-Window and Bog-House Miscellany_.
+Containing such Pieces of Wit and Humour as have been writ with
+Diamonds, _&c._ by Persons of the First Quality in _Great Britain_, on
+Glass-Windows, Drinking-Glasses, Bog-Houses, _&c._ at the most publick
+Places of Resort in this Kingdom. In four Parts. Price 6 _d._ each.
+
+
+2. _Round about Our Coal-Fire:_ Or, _Christmas Entertainments_. Treating
+of Mirth and Jollity, Eating, Drinking, Kissing, _&c._ Of Hobgoblins,
+Raw-Heads and Bloody-Bones, _Tom-Pokers_, Bull-Beggars, Witches,
+Wizards, Conjurers, and such like horrible Bodies. Adorn'd with many
+diverting Cuts. Price 6 _d._
+
+
+3. A View of the BEAU MONDE: Or, _Memoirs of the Celebrated COQUETILLA_.
+In which is interspersed the Amours of several Persons of Quality and
+Distinction. To which is added, _The Masque of Life:_ A Ballad. Price
+1 _s._
+
+
+4. _Love-Alamode:_ Or, _The Amours of_ FLORELLA _and_ PHILLIS. Being the
+Memoirs of two Celebrated Ladies under those Names: In which the whole
+Circle of Modern Gallantry is display'd. Price 1 _s._
+
+
+5. _The BEAU's_ MISCELLANY. Being a Curious Collection of amorous Tales,
+diverting Songs, and entertaining Poems: particularly, _The Curious
+Maid_; _The Peeper_; _The Leaky Vessel_; _The Bauble_; _The Longitude_;
+_The Parson and his Maid_; _The Hoop-Petticoat_; _The Tickler_; _The
+Maiden's and Batchelor's Dreams_; _cum multis aliis_.
+
+  _If these merry Tales don't ev'ry Humour fit,
+  Let Fops, like me, ne'er nibble more at Wit._
+
+In two Parts. The Second Edition. Price stich'd 2 _s._ neatly bound
+2 _s._ 6 _d._
+
+
+6. A PROPOSAL humbly offered to the Parliament, for the more effectual
+preventing the farther Growth of _Popery_. By Dean _Sw - - ft_. To which
+is added, Two Poems, _Helter-Skelter_, on the Hue and Cry after the
+Country Attornies, on their Riding the Circuit; and, The Place of the
+_Damn'd_. The Second Edition. Price 6 _d._
+
+
+7. _The Behaviour of the Clergy, as well as their Traditions destructive
+of Religion._ Or, A Succinct History of _Priestcraft_ throughout all
+Ages. To which is added, Parson _Bow - - n_'s Confession: A Poem. The
+Third Edition. Price 1 _s._
+
+
+8. WAR WITH PRIESTCRAFT, Or, _The Freethinker's Iliad_. A Burlesque
+Poem. In Three Canto's. With Notes explaining the Sentiments, _&c._ of
+them and their Followers. Price 1 _s._
+
+
+9. The HONEY-SUCKLE: A Curious Collection of POEMS. Consisting chiefly
+of Originals; and interspersed with Translations from the best _Greek_
+and _Latin_ Poets. To which is added, _The_ DUEL: A Poem. The Second
+Edition. Price 1 _s._
+
+10. _The whole Case and Proceedings in relation to BRIDGET READING, an
+Heiress, and _Daniel Kimberley_ and others._ To which is added, The
+Trial of the said _Kimberley_; with his last dying Words, and an
+Original Letter sent by him to Mr. _READING_ a few Days before his
+Execution. Price 1 _s._
+
+
+11. _A View of the TOWN_: Or, _Memoirs of LONDON_. In which the Humours,
+Follies, Vices, _&c._ of that Great _Metropolis_, are merrily display'd.
+Interspersed with several new and witty Songs.
+
+  _My Book a _Salesman_'s Shop you'll find,_
+    Where civilly I'll treat ye,
+  _To a _Fool_'s Coat of any Kind,_
+    _You'r welcome if it fit ye._
+
+The Second Edition. Price 1 _s._
+
+
+12. _A Sketch of the Miseries of POVERTY._ Dedicated to the Honourable
+Sir _Griffith Boynton_ Bart.
+
+  _Happy the Man, who void of Care and Strife,
+  In silken or in leathern Purse retains
+  A splendid Shilling._
+
+      Phillips.
+
+          Price 6 _d._
+
+
+13. _A T----d is as good for a Sow, as a Pancake:_ Or, _The Story of a
+COCK and a BULL_. Calculated for the Improvement of the Modern Wits.
+Written by _Myself_ Esq; Professor of Dulness and Bombast. Price 6 _d._
+
+  _From Nothing comes Nothing, and there remains Nothing._
+
+  From a Copy-Book in the _Blue-Coat_ Hospital.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Errata:
+
+  The List of Editors was despeckled in scanning. All periods
+  (full stops) were supplied by the transcriber.
+
+
+Editor's Introduction:
+
+  By Swine who nee'r provide Bumfodder
+    _spelling unchanged (taken from primary text)_
+
+
+Primary Text:
+
+Title Page:
+  All title pages-- including Part 1, issued as a separate ARS
+    publication-- are essentially identical.
+  --The last part of the second paragraph (after "... Nation.") varies.
+  --The name "Bethleham-Wall" is spelled "Bethlehem" in Part 3.
+
+Part 2:
+  Will make a T    d more lasting;
+    _shown as printed_
+
+Part 3:
+  Names the Nymph that I adore.
+    _text reads "Npmph"_
+  _Save us from sudden Death_, was said,
+    _text reads "wa ssaid"_
+
+Part 4:
+  Shall lay (on Pain of Flagellation)
+  (From lowest Club, to that call'd Royal,)
+    _close parenthesis missing from both lines_
+  He'el feed on a Jest, that is broke with your Wind,
+    _spelling unchanged_
+  By Swine who nee'r provide Bumfodder
+    _spelling unchanged (quoted in editor's introduction)_
+  E'er I that Suit procure.
+    _text has comma at end_
+  Professor of Dulness and Bombast. Price 6 _d._
+    _text reads "Picre"_
+
+
+Further Notes:
+
+  Why are _Doll_'s Teeth so white, and _Susan_'s black?
+    The Reason soon is known.
+  _Doll_ buys her Teeth which she doth lack,
+    But _Susan_ wears her own.
+
+  This verse is a translation of Martial V.43:
+
+    _Thais habet nigros, niveos Laecania dentes
+      Quae ratio est? Emptos haec habet, illa suos._
+
+  _P. S. Quintus_
+
+    Pope Sixtus V (= Quintus).
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Merry-Thought: or the Glass-Window
+and Bog-House Miscellany, by Hurlo Thrumbo (pseudonym)
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MERRY-THOUGHT ***
+
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