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.



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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).

THE END