The Merry-Thought Volume Ii Part 18

_On a Pannel at the Faulcon in _St. Neot_'s _Huntingdons.h.i.+re_._

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 Gla.s.s 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 Gla.s.s, _Celia_, display thy Virtue and thy Face; Bright as the Brilliant while thy Beauty shows Ev'n Gla.s.s 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._