A poor Woman was ill in a dangerous Case, She lay in, and was just as some other Folks was: By the Lord, cries _She_ then, if my Husband e’er come, Once again with his Will for to tickle my Bum, I’ll storm, and I’ll swear, and I’ll run staring wild; And yet the next Night, the Man got her with Child. S. M. 1708. _By Desire not to insert the Place._ What care I for Mistress May’ress; She’s little as the Queen of Fairies: Her little Body like my Thumb, Is thicker far than _other some_; Her Conscience yet would stretch so wide; } Either on this, or t’other Side, } That none could tell when they did ride. } _Underwritten._ Swim for thy Life, dear Boy, for I can feel neither Bottom nor Sides. _In Pencil upon a Wall in a Tavern near Covent-Garden._ I become all Things to all Men, to gain some, or I must have starved. _Moll. Friskey._ _Star-Inn at Coventry._ _Molly_ the gay, the black, the friskey, Would kiss like any wanton Gipsey; Nor was her Mouth alone the Case, A Man of Worth might kiss her A----se. _At a Tavern at the Royal Exchange._ I’ve now a Coach and Six before me, Each female court’sies to adore me: But from my dearest I can’t part, Without returning her my Heart: Tell her I am gone a Month or longer, While she may gain more Love, and I grow stronger. _S. M. Oct._ 17. 1720. _From a Tavern in Fleet-Street._ I’ll drink like _Bacchus_, and I’ll fight like _Mars_, The Kind I’ll love, the Cross may kiss my A - - se. _In the same Room in a Woman’s Hand._ Since cruel Fate has robb’d me of the Youth, For whom my Heart had hoarded all its Truth, I’ll ne’er love more, dispairing e’er to find, Such Constancy and Truth amongst Mankind. _Feb._ 18, 1725. _Underwritten._ I kiss’d her the next Night, and she’s one of the _Walkers_ Family. _Feb._ 18. 1725. _Dublin in a Window in Castle-Street._ O mortal Man that’s made of Clay, Is here to-Morrow, and is gone to Day. _In a Bog-House at Hampstead._ There’s Nothing foul that we commit, But what we write, and what we sh - - t. _Three-Pigeons at Brentford._ Wer’t not for _Whims_, Candles, and Carrots Young Fellows Things might ride in Chariots. _Tom Long, July_ 17. _Underwritten._ Heaven for all those Helps to Nature, Or else poor P---- could get no Quarter. _Letter on a Window at Stony-Stratford, to Miss Mary V - - d - - le._ We shall B in better Q, When U have I, and I have U. T. M. 1720 _From a Window in Hell, near Westminster-Hall._ Old _Orpheus_ tickled his Harp so well, That he tickled _Eurydice_ out of Hell, With a Twing come Twang, and a Twing come Twang; but, Some say _Euridice_ was a Scold Therefore the Devil of her took hold, With a Twing come Twang, &c. S. S. 1714. _Underwritten._