I love dear _Betty_, and _Betty_ loves me; And it shall not be long before marry’d we be. _Underwritten._ If you must make a Rhime upon your Lass, I’ll make another----Rhimer kiss my A - se. _Boar’s-Head, Smithfield._ D - n their Doublets, and confound their Breeches, There’s none besh - t the Wall but Sons of B - ches. May the _French_ P - - x, and the D - - vil take ’em all, That besh - t their Fingers, and wipe them on the Wall. _Lambeth-Wells Bog-House._ _Supposed to be wrote by one who had a great Antipathy to Tobacco._ This is a Place that’s very fitting, To p - - ss, and f - - rt, to smoke, and sh - - t in. _From a Window in a Great House in Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields._ A good Wife is like a Turtle that bills and cooes, and turns up her T----l to her Husband. _Kings-Head, Beaconsfield._ In Spring the Fields, in Autumn Hills, I love; At Morn the Plains, at Noon the shady Grove; But _Delia_ always, forc’d from _Delia_’s Sight, Nor Fields, nor Hills, nor Plains, nor Groves delight. _At the same Place, 1731._ Love in Fashion, is Copulation. _Le H----p._ _At the same Place._ The Brave and Wise would never hug The chearful Bottle and the Jug, Were not good Liquor in its Season, An useful Spur to human Reason. _Probatum est_, W. T. _At Rumford, in a Window._ There’s Nothing sure can vex a Woman more Than to hear the Feats of Love, and be Threescore. _Written on a Looking-Glass, in the Rue Boucharie, Paris._ Le Mond est plein de fous, & qui n’en veut point voir, Doit demeurer tout seul, & casser son meroir. The World is full of Fools and Asses, To see them not---- retire and break your Glasses. _Oxon, in a Bog-House._ With such violent Rage, Sir _John_ did engage With the Damsel which he laid his Leg on, That his Squire, who stood near, Swore it look’d like the Spear Of St. _George_ in the Mouth of the Dragon. _On a Drinking-Glass._ Guard well your Credit, for ’tis quickly gone: ’Tis gain’d by many Actions, lost by one. _At York, in a Window._ When Mr. _H----_ was chosen Mayor, } We thought our Peace stood very fair, } And hollow’d when he took the Chair. } But see how Mortals may prove civil, } They change their State from Good to Evil: } Set a Beggar on Horseback, he’ll ride to the Devil. } And so it prov’d. _From a Window in Yorkshire._ Sir ---- was chosen our Recorder, Hoping he’d put our Wrongs in Order: But, in Truth, the young Gentleman prov’d such a Rake, That he kiss’d all our Wives, and made all our Heads ake. _Uxbridge, the Crown._ _Puns_ have two evil Ends: Sometimes they gain us Foes, Sometimes they make us lose our Friends. _At Epping, in a Window._