Chapter IV: Preface

_From a Paper found in the Street at Twelve at Night, 1708. near
Covent-Garden. Argument concerning a Greek Opera that was to have
been set on Foot, when People liked to see and hear Operas first
in Italian._

As Languages are introduced among us Christian People daily that we do not understand, by Way of _Italian_ Opera, _&c._ why may we not entertain the Publick with a little _Greek_, as natural as Pigs squeak.--

_And for _Latin_, 'tis no more dificile,
Than for a Blackbird 'tis to whistle._ Hud.

I love dearly to quote my Authors.

I have been with both the Play-Houses, and one says d----n it, it won't do; and t'other says, Z----ds it will not take; then says I to myself, I'll have a _Greek_ Opera, by G - - d; and with this Resolution I set about it, and made a Specimen, and so went with it in a Chair to the Opera-House, to give it the better Grace. But that would not do neither; for one did not understand _Greek_; nor t'other did not understand _Greek_; and _Italian_ was all in Vogue: And I did not understand that; and so we could make no Bargain, and I returned Home.

Z----ds, thinks I, if I don't understand their barbarous Language, must I let them have any Thing of my ancient Language? No, Messieurs! I'll let my Opera remain in its Infancy, and you shall curse yourselves before you have it compleat; but that you shall know what Fools you have been, I'll stick a Needle through my Nose, that you may look sharp; and then you will say, why did not US take it, for in the first Scene I saw all the Audience laugh. But to the Point, _i.e._ the second Preamble or Argument,

OPERA.

Scene is the City of _Athens_, and an old Woman lives in a hollow Tree, where she sells Gin and Gingerbread to the Grenadiers; her Name is Gammer _Hocus_. Then there comes a Goddess, who sells Butter and Eggs at _Athens_ Market, upon her Uncle's bald Mare; and as the Mare is a stumbling Jade, so she falls down before _Hocus_'s Tree, and hurts her Rump, and then we begin.

_N. B._ When the Goddess _Cinderaxan_ falls down before Gammer _Hocus_'s Door, or Tree, she begins in _Ricitativo_----_Greek_ Fashion.

_O! mega mar, hocus the baldmare has cantedme ontoss;
* Philladram sukami, some Spirit offerme to suckon.
Dear _Hokey_ behasty, forbum sufferssore by a Thumpon't;
No baldmare my Gammon shall contuseagain by one moretoss._

* Fill.

_English'd_ thus for the Benefit of the Ladies, though 'tis much the same in the _Greek_.

_O my Gammer _Hocus_, the bald Mare has canted me one Toss;
Fill a Dram, sick am I, some Spirit offer me to suck on.
Dear _Hokey_ be hasty, for Bum suffers sore by a Thump on't.
No bald Mare my Gammon shall contuse again by one more Toss._

Then out comes Gammer _Hocus_, when the Goddess had called for a Dram in the second Line, and sings with an Air, seeing her Goddessship as dirty as the Devil.

__Cinderaxan_'s sablehew'd Aspect,----
Fulloffun, though the Doxey can seemcoy._

And here we leave off. Is not the Devil in the People, that they will not encourage a good Thing, when they have it before them.

_Crown at Uxbridge,_ 1708.

_An Acrostick upon something or other._

Commodious for a Haven made,
Under a rising Bank,
Nature has fix'd a Place of Trade,
To Men of any Rank.

_Underwritten._

Riddle my ree, _&c._
And read the four first Letters, and you'll see.

_R. M._

_A Man hanging for Love, drawn when Painting was in its Cradle, with his
Dog barking at him, _viva voce_. From the three Pigeons at Brentford._

The Occasion of this dangling Story, was from a Lady who hated him, and set him about it.

Go hang thyself, quoth cruel She,
Go hang thyself I say.
The Man obey'd her presently,
And made himself away. _Mary Worthless._

The Criticks do not make out whether he _walk'd_ off, or _went_ off, neither does the Figure determine which.

Hang me, if I will _hang_ for any Woman,
For most of them alike are very common;
I'd sooner trudge as I have done before,
Than hang upon a d----d confounded Whore.

_Underwritten._

No Matter if the Man is longer than the Gallows,
He smokes and drinks his Glass like honest Fellows.

_Upon a Drinking-Glass at Charing-Cross._

_Nanny Sach----l_ is all my Toast;
She's all I wish for, and is all my Boast.

_Egham, at the Red Lion._

Help me, ye Pow'rs, to sing my _Sylvia_'s Praise;
Nor _P - - pe_ nor _Sw - - ft_ can do it now a-days.
But you, nor I, or them, can ever boast, }
There ever was in _Europe_ such a Toast; }
All we can say, is, _Lucy_ rules the Roast. }

_At a Place not to be recorded._

A d - - - d confounded Bitch,
Ugly and cunning as a Witch.
Her Bill shall be preferr'd by Law;
The House we wish we'd never saw.
One Pound five and ten Pence;
Grant her Repentance;
We'll never come here again;
And let her alone remain.

J. S.
R. S. 17 July.
1722. very truly.

I do not complain of my _Phillis_,
Because I know what her proud Will is;
For I know how she'll rant,
And I know what I want;
G - - d d - - - n her old Aunt;
I stand here, and wait for her, THAT _still is_.

_On a beautiful Sempstress, in a Window at Charing-Cross._

_Dolly_, with Beauty and Art,
Has so hemm'd in my Heart,
That I cannot resist the Charm.
In Revenge I will stitch
Up the Hole near her Breach,
With a Needle as long as my Arm.

R.

_Two Girls at a Bar, that would do't, and one Gentleman would
chatter too long._

What the Devil should we meddle
With diddle daddle, fiddle faddle;
We shall lose the Girls that please;
Go to Bed, and take your Ease.

M. C. to his Friend.

_Underwritten._

I know they'll ease you both, for I have been aboard of them.

R. C.

I shall tell best at the next Meeting:
The Proof of the Pudding is in the eating.

_Blue Posts, Charing-Cross._

Use me friendly, use me kind;
I'll be the kindest of my Sex;
I'll love, be constant, and you'll find,
I'll be your own in _Middlesex_.

_Molly Sh----r._

_Underwritten._

Take care you keep her Country to yourself.

M. L.

_Red Lion at Egham._

I _watch_ and _pray_ for dearest _Nancy_,
Because I always love her Fancy;
But then there comes,
Like Bailiff Bums,
The _Watch_ with Lights we _can see_;
And then she'll pray,
And I must pay,
And retreat as clean as a Tansey.

_Underwritten._

For Money one may whore,
And I'll say no more.----

R. T.

_At the same Place._

I am a young Thing, just come from my Mammy.

S. L.

_Underwritten_

Then you want to be kiss'd, G - - d d - - - n ye.

Captain R. T.

_Bull-and-Mouth-Street._

If Virtue rules the Minds of Women,
They'll never let you touch their Linnen;
But if they are not Virtue Proof,
Then you may kiss them oft enough.

_Uxbridge, at the Crown._

_Molley_ came up to Town precise,
Demure, yet fire in her Eyes;
So did she look confounded civil;
With Grace and Beauty like a Devil;
But soon her Eyes drew in some Hearts, }
And some _Things else_ like _Cupid_'s Darts, }
Which gave her Pains, and many Smarts. }

_Underwritten._

Thou Puppy, ----
The Fire of her Eyes occasioned the Flame of her Heart,
And drew the Fire to her lower Part.

_R. L._

_From the same Place._

After a tedious Journey, and my Supper,
And dam----d uneasy with my Crupper,
_Jenney_ came up to warm my Bed, }
A pretty Girl; but I was dead, }
Or else I'd had her Maidenhead. }

_R. T._

_Swan at Uxbridge._

Who's been here,
The Devil I fear;
For he's left the Bottles clear.

_R. Est----n_, 1710.

_Underwritten._

'Twas so; for nothing so like the Devil as an empty Bottle.

_G. S._ 1711.

_Boghouse at Uxbridge._

If a Man should breathe backwards, and happens to stink,
You may say, if you will, it is natural _Instinct_.

_Underwritten._

You may quibble upon the Word _Instinct_, if you will; but I think 'tis better out than in, considering the Case.

_I. M._ of _Oxon._

_Betty Careless, her Prayers: From her Chambers in Drury-Lane, on a
Wall, written with a Piece of Charcoal._

Grant us good lusty Men, ye gracious Pow'rs!
Or else stop up those craving Things of ours!

_From the Plough Ale-House in Fore-Street, near Cripplegate, written
upon a Wall._

Good Bread and Meat, strong Beer withal,
Will make a T d more lasting;
Therefore I think he is a Fool,
That goes out in a Morning fasting.

_Tom. Rudge._

We suppose he wants to eternize his Memory by eating a Breakfast.

When I lay with my bouncing _Nell_,
I gave her an Inch, and she took an Ell:
But I think in this Case it was damnable hard,
When I gave her an Inch, she'd want more than a Yard.

_Hampstead, at the Flask._

Nothing so certain as the Uncertainties of this Life, _says one of the Greek Philosophers_.

_Hoxton, on a Wall._

What Difference between Kings T - - - ds and mine?
One may be costive, one be full of Slime;
Yet equally will any Hog that feeds,
Produce good Pork by feeding on our Needs.

_Underwritten._

You nasty Dog, you may eat your Pork yourself.

_Hampstead, at the Flask._

Tell me why, ye gen'rous Swains?
Tell me, ye Nymphs upon the Plains?
Why does _Sylvia_ leave the Green?
Has she done any Thing obscene?
They all reply'd, Your _Sylvia_'s gone;
For she will do't with ev'ry one.

_From the Red Lyon at Egham._

She that thinks upon her Honour,
Needs no other Guard upon her.

_Underwritten._

She that has a Man upon her,
Never thinks upon her Honour.

_In Trinity College Boghouse, Dublin._

You who instead of Fodder, Fingers use,
Pray lick 'em clean, and don't this Wall abuse.

_Under which is written;_

These House-of-Office Poets, by the L - - - d,
Instead of Laurel, should be crown'd with T - - - d.

_In a Window, at the Sign of the Four Crosses, on the Road to West
Chester._

Host! wou'd you paint your Crosses to the Life,
Pull down your Sign, and then hang up your Wife.

_On A Window at Canbury-House._

The Breast of ev'ry _British_ Fair,
Like this bright, brittle, slippery Glass,
A Diamond makes Impression there,
Though on the Finger of an Ass.

_On a Person of Quality's Boghouse._

Good Lord! who could think,
That such fine Folks should stink?

_On a Window at Bushy-Hall, Hertfordshire._

Love is like Blindman's Buff, where we pursue,
We know not what we catch, we know not who;
And when we grasp our Wish, what Prize is won?
Our Eyes are open'd, and the Play is done.

_Some Love Verses being first written on a Window in Brook-Street, and
scratched out, occasioned the following:_

Good grave Papa, you hope in vain,
By blotting this to mend her;
She who writes Love upon the Pane,
Will soon leap out at Window.

_On the Middle Temple Boghouse._

Well sung of Yore, a Bard of Wit,
That some Folks read, but all Folks sh - - - t;
But now the Case is alter'd quite,
Since all who come to Boghouse write.

_On the same Place._

Because they cannot eat, some Authors write;
And some, it seems, because they cannot sh - - te.

_On a Glass at the Devil Tavern, Temple-Bar._

The stubborn Glass no Character receives,
Except the Stamp the piercing Brilliant gives.
A female Heart thus no Impression takes,
But what the Lover tipp'd with Diamond makes.

_At Launder's Coffee-House, in the Old Play-House Passage._

Dear _Pat_, 'tis vain to patch or paint,
Since still a fragrant Breath you want;
For though well furnish'd, yet all Folks
Despise a Room whose Chimney smokes.

_White-Hart at Watford._

Parody of four Lines of _Dryden_.

Glass with a Diamond does our Wit betray;
Who can write sure on that smooth slippery Way?
Pleas'd with our scribling we cut swiftly on,
And see the Nonsense, which we cannot shun.

_In a Window at the Kings-Arms Tavern, Fleet-Street._

Both mine and Women's Fate you'll judge from hence ill,
That we are pierc'd by ev'ry Coxcomb's Pencil.

_Written in a Window at a private House, by a desponding Lover in the
Presence of his Mistress._

This Glass, my Fair's the Emblem of your Mind,
Which brittle, slipp'ry, pois'nous oft we find.

_Her Answer underneath._

I must confess, kind Sir, that though this Glass,
Can't prove me brittle, it proves you an Ass.

_Sent by an unknown Hand._

O ye Powers above!
Who of Mortals take Care,
Make Women less cruel,
More fond, or less fair.
Was _Helen_ half so fair, so form'd for Joy,
Well fought the _Trojan_, and well burnt was _Troy_.

_FINIS._

The

MERRY-THOUGHT:

or, the

Glass-Window and Bog-House

MISCELLANY.

Taken from

The Original Manuscripts written in _Diamond_
by Persons of the first Rank and Figure in _Great
Britain_; relating to Love, Matrimony, Drunkenness,
Sobriety, Ranting, Scandal, Politicks, Gaming,
and many other Subjects, _Serious_ and _Comical_.

Faithfully Transcribed from the Drinking-Glasses and
Windows in the several noted _Taverns_, _Inns_, and
other _Publick Places_ in this Nation. Amongst which
are intermixed the Lucubrations of the polite Part
of the World, written upon Walls in Bog-houses, _&c._

_Published by_ HURLO THRUMBO.

_Gameyorum, Wildum, Gorum,
Gameyorum a Gamey,
Flumarum a Flumarum,
A Rigdum Bollarum
A Rigdum, for a little Gamey._

Bethlehem-Wall, Moor-Fields.

PART III.

_LONDON_:

Printed for J. ROBERTS in _Warwick-Lane_; and Sold by
the Booksellers in Town and Country. [Price 6 _d._]

THE