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diff --git a/20535.txt b/20535.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3a9bd63 --- /dev/null +++ b/20535.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4148 @@ +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 *** + +***** This file should be named 20535.txt or 20535.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/5/3/20535/ + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Starner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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