Sir _John_ at this Place } Kiss'd her Grace, } Which he proved Face to Face. } _C. W._ _April_ 14. 1710. _Underwritten._ While this was a-doing, Her Maid I was wooing: She did like her Lady, But made me a Daddy. _J. W._ _April_ 12. 1711. _Hampton-Court, at the Mitre, 1718._ How have I strove to gain the Fair? } And yet how little does she care? } But leaves me starving with Despair. } 'Tis now full Eight, I fear her Spouse Has given her a Rendezvous. _Those five Lines were crossed out; but then follows:_ D - - - mn the first Lines, they are not mine, T'abuse a Lady so divine; Altho' I waited for her Hours, I have enjoy'd her lovely Powers, Her Wit, her Beauty, and her Sense, Have fully made me Recompence. Captain _R. T._ _July_ 10. 1710. _Underwritten._ Friend Captain T, If thou can'st C, Mind what I have to say to thee, Thy Strumpet Wh--re abominable, Which thou didst kiss upon a Table, Has made thy manly Parts unable. _Farewel, &c. Z. B._ _Toy, at Hampton-Court_, 1708. D - - - n _Molley H----ns_ for her Pride, She'll suffer none but Lords to ride: But why the Devil should I care, Since I can find another Mare? _L. M. August._ _Star-Inn at Coventry, in a Window._ _Letter to _Will S - - - rs_, Esq;_ Dear _Will_, I ever will Be at your will, Whene'er you will, And where you will; So that your Will Be Good-Will, I never will Dispute your Will; But give you Will For Will. At this Time, At all Times, Or any Time, But such Times As bad Times: For Lemon Thyme, Or Common Time, Or Tripple Time, Are not Times Like your Times And my Times For Pastimes. Then betimes Suit your Time To my Time; Or my Time Is lost Time. I wish you well, And hope you're well, As I am well; So all's well That ends well; Then farewell. _R. B. April_ 17. 1714. _Star at Coventry, on a Window._ Drunk at _Comb-Abbey_, horrid drunk; Hither I came, and met my fav'rite Punk. But she as well might have embrac'd a Log, } All Night I snor'd, and grunted like a Hog, } Then was not I a sad confounded Dog! } _R. H._ I'll never get drunk again, For my Head's full of Pain, And it grieves me to think, That by Dint of good Drink, I should lie with my _Phillis_ in vain. _R. H._ 1712. _Salisbury, the King's Arms, on the Wall._ Here was a 'Pothecary's Wife, Who never lov'd her Spouse in all her Life; And for want of his Handle, Made use of a Candle: ---- Light as a Feather, To bring Things together. _S. C._ 1710. _Underwritten._ Thou Fool, 'twas done for want of Sense, I tickl'd her Concupiscence: And that is enough to save her Credit. _S. B._ 1712. _Under this is wrote._