The Cuckold invited the Coachman to dine, And gave him a Treat at his own Expence; They drown'd all Cares in full brimmers of Wine, He made him as welcome as any Prince: There was all the Hungregation, Which from _Cuckolds-Point_ was come; They kissed and fumbled, They touzed and tumbled, _He was glad to take her rough as she run._ _Judge_ does enjoy her where he list, He values not the old Cuckold's Pouts; And she is as good for the Game as e'er pist, Fudge on his Horns sits drying of Clouts: She rants and revels when she pleases, And to end as I begun, The Horned Wise-acre, Is forced to take her _Without Hood or Scarff, and rough as she run._ _The_ MAIDEN LOTTERY: _Containing 70 Thousand Tickets, at a Guinea each; the Prizes being Rich and Loving Husbands, from three Thousand to one Hundred a Year, which Lottery will begin to draw on next_ VALENTINE'S _Day._ _Then pretty Lasses venture now,_ _Kind_ Fortune _may her Smiles alow._ [Music] Young Ladies that live in the City, Sweet beautiful proper and Tall; And Country Maids who dabling wades, Here's happy good News for you all: A Lottery now out of hand, Erected will be in the _Strand_; Young Husbands with Treasure, and Wealth out of measure Will fairly be at your Command: _Of her that shall light of a Fortunate Lot,_ _There's Six of three Thousand a Year to be got._ I tell you the Price of each Ticket, It is but a Guinea, I'll vow; Then hasten away, and make no delay, And fill up the Lottery now: If _Gillian_ that lodges in Straw, Shall have the good Fortune to draw A Knight or a 'Squire, he'll never deny her, 'Tis fair and according to Law; _Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,_ _There's Ten of two Thousand a Year to be got._ The number is Seventy Thousand, When all the whole Lot is compleat; Five Hundred of which, are Prizes most rich, Believe me for this is no Cheat: There's Drapers and Taylors likewise, Brave Men that you cannot despise; Come _Bridget_ and _Jenny_, and throw in your Guinea, A Husband's a delicate Prize: _Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,_ _There's Ten of one Thousand a Year to be got._ Suppose you should win for your Guinea, A Man of three Thousand a Year; Would this not be brave; what more would you have? You soon might in Glory appear: In glittering Coach you may ride, With Lackeys to run by your side; For why should you spare it? Faith win Gold and wear it; Now who would not be such a Bride? _Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,_ _There's Sixty, Five Hundreds a Year to be got._ Old Widows, and Maids above Forty, Shall not be admitted to draw: There's five Hundred and Ten, as proper young Men, Indeed, as your Eyes ever saw: Who scorns for one Guinea of Gold, To lodge with a Woman that's Old; Young Maids are admitted, in hopes to be fitted, With Husbands couragious and bold: _Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,_ _There are wealthy kind Husbands now, now to be got._