Selected quad for the lemma: water_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A67529
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A walk to Islington with a description of New-Tunbridge-Wells and Sadler's musick-house / by the author of the poet's ramble after riches.
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Ward, Edward, 1667-1731.
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1699
(1699)
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Wing W765; ESTC R233769
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7,915
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16
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look at their Arses These all were so feeble there 's none could withstand An agreeable Bribe in the Baum of her Hand Tho' stout as Minerva I 'd knock her flat down By the wonderful force that 's contain'd in a Crown Perhaps she 'd for half condescend to be Civil And Humble with Pains both the Flesh and the Devil Another kind sort with good honest-look'd Faces From the Hospital Change and from such sort of Places Were come with intent to be Kist by the by Who scorn to be Hired yet scorn to Deny In kind melting words let them know your desire And Swear you must do 't they 'll not make you a Lyar But think themselves under a strict obligation To answer unbrib'd the sweet end of Creation The Sparks that attended to make up the show Were various but first we 'll begin with the Beau Whos 's Wig was so bushy so Long and so Fair The best part of Man was quite cover'd with Hair That he look'd as a body may modestly speak-it Like a Calf with bald Face peeping out of a Thicket Or else like an Hedg-hog rowld up in his Bristles Hides all but his Nose in his Peruke of Thistles His Locks drudg his Coat which such filthiness harbours Tho' made of Black-Cloth 't is as White as a Barber 's His Sword I may say to my best of belief Was as long as a Spit for a Sir-Loin of Beef Being grac'd with a Ribbon of Scarlet or Blue That hung from the hilt to the heel of his Shoe His gate is a Strut which he learns from the Stage When Heroes by Whores are put into a rage And vow in revenge how much Blood shall be spilt To punish the slights of some Tirmagant Jilt Thus proud as a Turky-cock spreading his Plumes He stalks thro' the Walks so enrich'd with Perfumes No Altar of Incense could with him Compare His Nostrils breath'd none but Orangery Air. His Wig and his Handkerchief Gloves and Cravat Smelt sweet as the Arse of a Muscovie-Cat His Snush-Box each minute was open'd with Pains To fill his Head fuller of Snush than of Brains Thus Congies and Bows with his Hat in his Hand And is each common Iilt's Humble Slave to Command Abundance of these the Whores had at their Call But in showing you one you 've a sight of them all The Children of Fortune were next worth Observing By Stratagem kept or from Hanging or Starving Who bred to no Bus'ness but train'd up in Evil Are Cunning in husling the Bones of the Devil Go on and you here shall Impartially view In this little Speculum one of the Crew His Leers are as Sharp as the Looks of a Hawk His Carriage Obliging and Fawning his Talk In one Pocket Cards and False Dice in the other To Cozen his Friend or Impose on his Brother For this is a Maxim by Gamsters maintain'd At Play there is neither Relation or Friend When th' Box at the Table has once a beginning He thinks upon nothing but cheating and winning He quickly is Broke and Recruited as soon Having more Revolutions by half than the Moon What ever by Knavery he wins from a Cully At th' Royal-Oak-Lottery he loses thro' Folly To day he is Rich and on top of the House To morrow as Humble and Poor as a Mouse Thus Fortune altho' she be Curs'd often for 't But makes her poor Minions her Scoff and her Sport And deals by her Sons like a Bitch of a Mother To snatch with one Hand what she gives with the other He 's sometimes as Gay as a Stallion at Court Perhaps the next day has lost all to his Shirt Thus stript having nothing of Worth to deposit He sneaks into Rags that lay by in his Closet Thus wanders asham'd till by Sharping and Tricking Or flinging Levant with the hazzard of Kicking Or else by th' assistance of some common Bitch H' has rais'd himself up to 's Original Pitch Thus Sharking and Shifting in Quarrels and Strife He spins out the Threads of a Troublesome Life Till by an old Pocky Consumption he 's hurld As poorly out as he came into th' World The Amorous Tribe that next hither Resorts Are the Fry of the Law from the Three Inns of Courts Who usually want you may read in each Face More Wit than Good Fortune less Money than Grace His Parents great Hopes yet the chief of their Trouble Composs'd of two Cocks-combs the Beau and the Bubble Let loose to all Follies by th' want of no Guilt Turns Cully to Royal-Oake Sharper and Iilt. No Money but what pays a Debt does he Grudge Thus scorns to be Iust as he hopes to be Iudge The next were a Crew of Extravagant Blades Tho' Born to Estates yet are bred up to Trades As Merchants Apprentices Sons of the City Who think to be Lewd is the way to be Witty Or finely to Dance and to Sing a New Song Are th' only Two Graces to Man do belong Thus led by the fury of Youth without thinking To Bawdy-house Play-house to Gaming and Drinking Disdaining good Counsel Reproof or Command Till spent what was painfully got to their hand Then full of Repentance Despair and Vexation Are Sold like bad Goods to some Foreign Plantation By this time it happen'd without Pill or Potion Or help of the Waters my Breech had a motion Left Doxie alone and the Place chanc'd to chuse Assign'd for the Laxative Ladies to use Not knowing my Error I shut to the Door In order to do what I hinted before And who should come running immediately after But a pretty young Damsel to scatter her Water Who being in haste had the scurvie mishap To thrust open the door and clap Arse in my Lap Ads-wounds said I Lady fair as I 'm a Christian I never deserv'd from your Sex to be Pist-on The Lady surpriz'd at the voice of a Man Gave a skip like a Squiril and out again ran A curse on the Hovel if lighter 't had been Bless my Eyes what a delicate sight had I seen Her Person denoted her of such a Genus I dare to engage she 'd a Bum like a Venus So soft that I thought I for ever cou'd feed-on Such forbidden Fruit like an Adam in Eden When Nature was Eas'd I went back to the Garden And for my long stay beg'd my Mistresses Pardon But Fir'd with the touch of this Sattin Bumfiddle The Dart of the God prick'd my Heart like a Needle I look'd all-around having noted her Gown But alas My dear Bird from the Grotto was flown I sigh'd when I found I 'd no Cure for my Pain But to Kiss my old Mistress again and again It being well known to an experienc'd Lover A Flame rais'd by One may be quench'd by Another When pretty well Tired with seeing each Novice Bow down to his Idol as if sh'was a Goddess We walk'd by an Out-house we found had been made For Raffling and Lott'ries and such sort of Trade And casting an Eye