The works of Mr. Thomas Brown, serious and comical : in prose and verse, with his remains in four volumes compleat; vol. IIBrown, Thomas
General
The works of Mr. Thomas Brown, serious and comical : in prose and verse, with his remains in four volumes compleat; vol. II
Brown, Thomas
English wit and humor -- Early works to 1800; Erotic literature -- Early works to 1800; Latin literature -- Translations into English
During his absence, I had little else to do but to curse the country,
and scratch my ears for want of liberty, which were terrified with the
buzzing of a parcel of fanatical souls, who swarm’d as thick as bees at
a _Hampshire_-farmers, some damning of doctor _B----ges_, others
confounding of _Timothy Cr--soe_, some raving against _Me--d_ of
_Stepney_, others cursing of _Salters-Hall_, &c. as if the ready road to
hell was to travel through _Presbytery_.
By this time my friend _Bob_ was as good as his word, which was the
first time I ever knew him so. Well, says he, you may see I am as sure
as a _Robin_, I have got your discharge; but the justice swears, had you
been confin’d for any thing besides whoring, drinking, and swearing, you
should have been shackled and been damn’d before he’d ever have releas’d
you; but however here’s a little _Scribere cum dasho_ will set you at
liberty; upon which we call’d the constable of the ward, who, upon sight
of the discharge, freed my supporters from confinement, which was no
sooner done, but with a reciprocal joy for my happy deliverance, we
began a ramble together thro’ all the neighbouring avenues, in hopes to
meet with something that might give us a little diversion; we had not
travelled above an hundred yards, but who should we meet but the old
snarling rogue that us’d to cry _poor Jack_, with his wife after him; he
no sooner espy’d us, but attack’d us open-mouth’d after the following
manner, _Two sharpers without one penny of money in their pockets; a
couple of bullies, and both cowards, ha, ha. Now for a fool with a full
pocket, a good dinner on free-cost, a whore and a tavern, a belly-full
of wine without paying for’t, ha, ha, ha, a hackney-coach for a bilk, or
a brass-shilling, a long sword, never a shirt_, White-Fryars _i’th’ day
time, a garret at night, ha, ha, ha, ha_. Thus the old rascal run upon
us as we pass’d by him, that we were both as glad when we were out of
his reach, as a hen-peck’d cuckold that has shunn’d the hisses of that
serpent he hugs every night in his bosom.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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