This is purposely to acknowledge the Obligations I owe to several Gentlemen, who have shewn their Esteem of the MERRY THOUGHT, in the large Collections they have communicated before the Holidays: For who knows, but many of their Pieces might have been lost, by the Effects of Wine, Punch, and strong Beer, in the _Christmas_ Time; or by a Game at Ramps, or Blind-Man’s-Buff; or unlucky Boys; or the sticking the Windows with Holley and Ivy: All these Hazards did we run of having many curious Pieces destroy’d, and bury’d in Oblivion. And then again, the Cleaning the Windows against the Holidays might have endanger’d the Loss of many of these brittle Leaves of Wit and Learning. But now, we may sing _Old Rose_, since a large Cargoe is already arriv’d safe at the Press. In order for a third Part, I have myself taken Care to visit most of the Glasiers in Town where I just came Time enough to save some few Scraps of Wit; and have bribed a great Number of Football-Players, not to use that Diversion near some particular Places about this Great City, where many curious Epigrams, Sonnets, and Whims, are at present uncopy’d; and if they should escape a few Days longer, will make a fourth Volume, with the kind Assistance of those Correspondents who have sent me promissory Notes for the Delivery of certain Parcels of such Wit, on or about the Twenty-fifth of this Instant _January_. I remain, Gentlemen, after hoping you are in good Health, as I am at this present Writing, and wishing you all many happy Years, _Your obliged humble Servant,_ HURLO THRUMBO. THE MERRY-THOUGHT. PART III. Mr. _BOG_, The following _Miscellanea Curiosa_ you may either insert in your third Part, or use them for your latter Part; which you please. _From a Window at the Angel in Marlborough._ _W----s_ lay at the _Angel_ in _Marlborough_ Town, And an Angel lay with him all Night: He tipp’d her an Angel before she lay down, Which you know was but decent and right. But an Angel of Darkness she prov’d to be sure; For scarce twenty Angels would pay for his Cure. _Written on the Wall at the George in Sandy-Lane, in the Bath Road, a Place famous for Puddings._ The Puddings are so good in _Sandy-Lane_, That if I chance to go that Way again, I’ll not be satisfy’d, unless I’ve twain, The one stuck thick with Plumbs, the other plain. _At the Sun-Tavern at Billingsgate, written on the Wainscot._ Upon the Ground he spread his Cloak; The Nymph she was not shy, Sir; And there they fairly did the Joke, Whilst through this Crack peep’d I, Sir. _Oct._ 27, 1722. _Underwritten._ Mr. Pimp, had I known your Worship was there, Which I no more dreamt of, than sleeping, When once I’d dispatch’d my Affair with the Fair, By G----d, you’d paid dear for your Peeping. _Dec._ 1722. _At the Red-Lion, Shrewsbury._