Says he was it darker than ever was Charcole, Tho' I never was there, yet the way do I know; Says she if it be such a terrible dark Hole, Don't offer to Grope out your way to it so: Now a Louse, _&c._ Says he you shall see I will quickly be at it, For this is, oh this is the way that I'll go; Says she do not tousle me so for I hate it, I vow by and by you will make me cry oh: So they both went to work, Now a Kiss, then a Jirk, And sing Cucumber, Cucumber ho. The Taylor arose when the business was over, Says he you will rub out the Score e'er you go; Says she I shall not pay so dear for a Lover, I'm not such a Fool I would have you to know: Now a Louse made him Itch, Here a Scratch, there a Stitch, And sing Cucumber, Cucumber ho. _The Penurious_ QUAKER: _Or, the High priz'd_ HARLOT. [Music] _Quaker._ My Friend thy Beauty seemeth good, We Righteous have our failings; I'm Flesh and Blood, methinks I cou'd, Wert thou but free from Ailings. _Harlot._ Believe me Sir I'm newly broach'd, And never have been in yet; I vow and swear I ne'er was touch'd, By Man 'till this day sennight. _Quaker._ Then prithee Friend, now prithee do, Nay, let us not defer it; And I'll be kind to thee when thou Hast laid the Evil Spirit. _Harlot._ I vow I won't, indeed I shan't, Unless I've Money first, Sir; For if I ever trust a Saint, I wish I may be curst, Sir. _Quaker._ I cannot like the Wicked say, I Love thee and Adore thee, And therefore thou wilt make me pay, So here is Six pence for thee. _Harlot._ Confound you for a stingy WHIG, Do ye think I live by Stealing; Farewel you Puritannick Prig, I scorn to take your Shilling. _A_ SONG. _Tune of the_ Old Rigadoon: _Lais_ when you Lye wrapp'd in Charms, In your Spouses Arms, How can you deny, The Youth to try, What is his due. Sure you ne'er have Been touch'd by Man, That you ne'er can, Admit the Slave. Come let him in, And if he does Not pay what he owes, Ne'er trust the Fool again. Let another Spark supply his Place, For a Woman should not want; And Nature sure ne'er made a Man so base, But with asking he would grant: But if all Mankind were agreed to spoil your Race, By _Jove_ my Dear they shan't. _The travelling_ TINKER, _and the Country_ ALE-WIFE: _Or, the lucky Mending of the leaky_ COPPER. [Music]