Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- 18th century
Some Sots, ill-mannered, drunk, a harmless Flight!
Rant noisy thro’ the Galleries all Night;
For which, if Justice had been done of late,
The Pump[57] had been three pretty Masters’ Fate,
With Stomach’s empty, and Heads full of Care,
Some Wretches swill the Pump, and walk the Bare.[58]
Within whose ample Oval is a Court, }
Where the more Active and Robust resort, }
And glowing, exercise a manly Sport. }
(Strong Exercise with mod’rate Food is good,
It drives in sprightful Streams the circling Blood;)
While these, with Rackets strike the flying Ball,
Some play at Nine-pins, Wrestlers take a Fall;
Beneath a Tent some drink, and some above
Are slily in their Chambers making Love;
Venus and Bacchus each keeps here a Shrine,
And many Vot’ries have to Love and Wine.
Such the Amusements of this merry Jail,
Which you’ll not reach, if Friends or Money fail;
For e’er it’s threefold Gates it will unfold,
The destin’d Captive must produce some Gold;
Four Guineas at the least for diff’rent Fees,
Compleats your _Habeas_, and commands the Keys;
Which done, and safely in, no more you’re led,
If you have Cash, you’ll find a Friend and Bed;
But, that deficient, you’ll but ill betide,
Lie in the Hall,[59] perhaps on Common Side.[60]
But now around you gazing Jiggers swarm,[61]
To draw your Picture, that’s their usual Term;
Your Form and Features strictly they survey,
Then leave you (if you can) to run away.
To them succeeds the Chamberlain, to see }
If you and he are likely to agree; }
Whether you’ll tip,[62] and pay you’re Master’s Fee.[63] }
Ask him how much? ‘Tis one Pound, six, and eight;
And, if you want, he’ll not the Twopence bate;
When paid, he puts on an important Face,
And shows Mount-scoundrel[64] for a charming Place;
You stand astonish’d at the darken’d Hole,
Sighing, the Lord have Mercy on my Soul!
And ask, Have you no other Rooms, Sir, pray?
Perhaps inquire what Rent, too, you’re to pay:
Entreating that he would a better seek;
The Rent (cries gruffly) ‘s Half-a-Crown a Week.
The Rooms have all a Price, some good, some bad,
But pleasant ones, at present, can’t be had;
This Room, in my Opinion’s not amiss; }
Then cross his venal Palm with Half a Piece,[65] }
He strait accosts you with another face. }
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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