Then out comes Gammer _Hocus_, when the Goddess had called for a Dram in the second Line, and sings with an Air, seeing her Goddessship as dirty as the Devil. __Cinderaxan_’s sablehew’d Aspect,---- Fulloffun, though the Doxey can seemcoy._ And here we leave off. Is not the Devil in the People, that they will not encourage a good Thing, when they have it before them. _Crown at Uxbridge,_ 1708. _An Acrostick upon something or other._ Commodious for a Haven made, Under a rising Bank, Nature has fix’d a Place of Trade, To Men of any Rank. _Underwritten._ Riddle my ree, _&c._ And read the four first Letters, and you’ll see. _R. M._ _A Man hanging for Love, drawn when Painting was in its Cradle, with his Dog barking at him, _viva voce_. From the three Pigeons at Brentford._ [Illustration] The Occasion of this dangling Story, was from a Lady who hated him, and set him about it. Go hang thyself, quoth cruel She, Go hang thyself I say. The Man obey’d her presently, And made himself away. _Mary Worthless._ The Criticks do not make out whether he _walk’d_ off, or _went_ off, neither does the Figure determine which. Hang me, if I will _hang_ for any Woman, For most of them alike are very common; I’d sooner trudge as I have done before, Than hang upon a d----d confounded Whore. _Underwritten._ No Matter if the Man is longer than the Gallows, He smokes and drinks his Glass like honest Fellows. _Upon a Drinking-Glass at Charing-Cross._ _Nanny Sach----l_ is all my Toast; She’s all I wish for, and is all my Boast. _Egham, at the Red Lion._ Help me, ye Pow’rs, to sing my _Sylvia_’s Praise; Nor _P - - pe_ nor _Sw - - ft_ can do it now a-days. But you, nor I, or them, can ever boast, } There ever was in _Europe_ such a Toast; } All we can say, is, _Lucy_ rules the Roast. } _At a Place not to be recorded._ A d - - - d confounded Bitch, Ugly and cunning as a Witch. Her Bill shall be preferr’d by Law; The House we wish we’d never saw. One Pound five and ten Pence; Grant her Repentance; We’ll never come here again; And let her alone remain. J. S. R. S. 17 July. 1722. very truly. I do not complain of my _Phillis_, Because I know what her proud Will is; For I know how she’ll rant, And I know what I want; G - - d d - - - n her old Aunt; I stand here, and wait for her, THAT _still is_. _On a beautiful Sempstress, in a Window at Charing-Cross._ _Dolly_, with Beauty and Art, Has so hemm’d in my Heart, That I cannot resist the Charm. In Revenge I will stitch Up the Hole near her Breach, With a Needle as long as my Arm. R. _Two Girls at a Bar, that would do’t, and one Gentleman would chatter too long._ What the Devil should we meddle With diddle daddle, fiddle faddle; We shall lose the Girls that please; Go to Bed, and take your Ease.