Vulgar words in Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy, Vol. 5 of 6 (Page 1)
This book at a glance
~ ~ ~ Sentence 80 ~ ~ ~
Old _Obadiah_ sings _Ave-Maria_, Sing Lulla-by-Baby with a Dildo; The old Woman and her Cat sat by the Fire, Now this is my Love d'y' like her ho?
~ ~ ~ Sentence 90 ~ ~ ~
[Music] Come bring us Wine in plenty, We've Money enough to spend; I hate to see the Pots empty, A Man cannot Drink to's Friend: Then drawer bring up more Wine, And merrily let it pass; We'll drink till our Faces do shine, He that wont may look like an Ass: And we'll tell him so to his Face, If he offers to baulk his Glass, For we defy all such dull Society.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 135 ~ ~ ~
And then my Lord, that many tries, she looks so Innocent, Believing he Infected her, he makes a Settlement; These are your Cracks, who skill'd in all kind of Debauches, Do daily piss, spue and whore in their own glass Coaches.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 137 ~ ~ ~
This Suburbs gallant Fop that takes delight in Roaring, He spends his time in Huffing, Swearing, Drinking, and in Whoring; And if an honest Man and his Wife meet them in the Dark, Makes nothing to run the Husband through to get the name of Spark.
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And this is the Ship which the Cuckolds have brought, It lies at their Haven, and is to be frought: And thither Whores rampant, that please may repair, With Master and Captain to truck for their Ware.
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In this we shall ease all the Countries to do't, And do our selves Pleasure and Profit to boot; For one that is crack'd in the Country before, In _London_ will make a spick and span Whore.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 355 ~ ~ ~
But t'other Day I heard one say, Your Husband durst not show his Ears, But like a Lout does walk about, So full of Sighs and Fears: Good Mrs. _Tart_, I caren't a Fart, For you nor all your Jears.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 356 ~ ~ ~
My Husband's known for to be one, That is most Chast and pure; And so would be continually, But for such Jades as you are: You wash, you lick, you smug, you trick, You toss a twire a grin; You nod and wink, and in his Drink, You strive to draw him in: You Lie you Punck, you're always Drunk, And now you Scold and make a Strife, And like a Whore you run o' th' Score, And lead him a weary Life; Tell me so again you dirty Quean, And I'll pull you by the Quoif.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 411 ~ ~ ~
But e'er a Month had gone about, Poor _Donald_ walked sadly: And every yean enquir'd of him, What gar'd him leuk so badly: A Wench, quoth he, Gave Snuff to me, Out of her Placket box, Sir; And I am sure, She prov'd a Whore, And given to me the Pox, Sir.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 432 ~ ~ ~
She told me we were near of Kin, And call'd for Wine good store; Before the Reckoning was brought in, My Cousin prov'd a Whore: My Purse she pickt, and went away, My Cousin couzened me, The Vintner kickt me out of Door; _Like a great Boobee_.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 435 ~ ~ ~
The Bearward went to save me then, The People flock'd about; I told the Bear-Garden-Men, My Guts they were almost out: They said I stunk most grievously, No Man would pity me; They call'd me witless Fool and Ass, _And a great Boobee_.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 437 ~ ~ ~
But I have learned so much Wit, Shall shorten all my Cares; If I can but a Licence get, To play before the Bears: 'Twould be a gallant Place indeed, As I may tell to thee: Then who dares call me Fool or Ass, _Or great Boobee_.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 452 ~ ~ ~
One met with a Holy Sister of ours, A Saint who dearly lov'd him: And fain he would have kiss'd her, Because the Spirit mov'd him: But she deny'd, and he reply'd, You're damn'd unless you do it; Therefore consent, do not repent, For the Spirit doth move me to it.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 458 ~ ~ ~
Come in, says he, you silly Slut, 'Tis now a rare convenient Minute; I'll lay the Itching of your Scut, Except some greedy Devil be in it: With that the Flat-capt Fusby smil'd, And would have blush'd, but that she cou'd not; Alass!
~ ~ ~ Sentence 498 ~ ~ ~
First I would have a Bag of Gold, That should ten Thousand Pieces hold, And all that, In thy Hat, Would I pour; For to spend, On thy Friend, Or thy Whore: For to cast away at Dice, Or to shift you of your Lice, _Thus would I Cure ye_.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 522 ~ ~ ~
He like the Great Turk has his favourite She, But the Town's his _Seraglio_, and still he lives free; Sometimes she's a Lady, but as he must range, Black _Betty_, or Oyster _Moll_ serve for a Change: As he varies his Sports his whole Life is a Feast, He thinks him that is soberest is most like a Beast: All Houses of Pleasure, breaks Windows and Doors, Kicks Bullies and Cullies, then lies with their Whores: Rare work for the Surgeon and Midwife he makes, What Life can Compare with the jolly Town-Rakes.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 539 ~ ~ ~
But prying Friends o'er-heard my Vow, And murmur'd in my Ear; _Damon_ hath neither Flocks nor Plough, Girl what thou dost beware: They us'd so long their cursed Art, And damn'd deluding sham; That I agreed with them to part, Nor offer'd up my Lamb.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 555 ~ ~ ~
RALPH'S _going to the Wars._ [Music] To the Wars I must alass, Though I do not like the Game, For I hold him to be an Ass, That will lose his Life for Fame: _For these Guns are such pestilent things, To pat a Pellet in ones Brow; Four vurlongs off ch've heard zome zay, Ch'ill kill a Man he knows not how._ When the Bow, Bill, Zword and Dagger, Were us'd all in vighting; Ch've heard my Father swear and swagger, That it was but a Flea-biting: _But these Guns_, &c. Ise would vight with the best of our Parish, And play at Whisters with _Mary_; Cou'd thump the Vootball, yerk the Morrie, And box at Visticuffs with any: _But these Guns_, &c. Varewel _Dick_, _Tom_, _Ralph_ and _Hugh_, My Maypoles make all heretofore; Varewel _Doll_, _Kate_, _Zis_ and _Zue_, For I shall never zee you more: _For these Guns are such pestilent things, To pat a Pellet in ones Brow; Four vurlongs off ch've heard zome zay, Ch'ill kill a Man he knows not how._ _A_ SONG _in Praise of Punch._ [Music] Come fill up the Bowl with the Liquor that fine is, And much more Divine is, Than now a-days Wine is, with all their Art, None here can controul: The Vintner despising, tho' Brandy be rising, 'Tis Punch that must chear the Heart: The Lovers complaining, 'twill cure in a trice, And _Cælia_ disdaining, shall cease to be nice, _Come fill up the Bowl_, &c. Thus soon you'll discover, the cheat of each Lover, When free from all Care you'll quickly find, As Nature intended 'em willing and kind: _Come fill up the Bowl_, &c. _A_ SONG.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 556 ~ ~ ~
[Music] Bonny _Peggy Ramsey_ that any Man may see, And bonny was her Face, with a fair freckel'd Eye, Neat is her Body made, and she hath good Skill, And square is her Wethergig made like a Mill: _With a hey trolodel, hey trolodel, hey trolodel lill,_ _Bonny_ Peggy Ramsey _she gives weel her Mill._ _Peggy_ to the Mill is gone to grind a Bowl of Mault, The Mill it wanted Water, and was not that a fault; Up she pull'd her Petticoats and piss'd into the Dam, For six Days and seven Nights she made the Mill to gang; _With a hey_, &c. Some call her _Peggy_, and some call her _Jean_, But some calls her Midsummer, but they all are mista'en; For _Peggy_ is a bonny Lass, and grinds well her Mill, For she will be Occupied when others they lay still: _With a hey_, &c. _Peg_, thee and Ise grin a poke, and we to War will leanes, Ise lay thee flat upon thy Back and then lay to the steanes; Ise make hopper titter totter, haud the Mouth as still, When twa sit, and eane stand, merrily grind the Mill: _With a hey_, &c. Up goes the Clap, and in goes the Corn, Betwixt twa rough steans _Peggy_ not to learn; With a Dam full of Water that she holdeth still, To pour upon the Clap for burning of the Mill: _With a hey_, &c. Up she pull'd the Dam sure and let the Water in, The Wheel went about, and the Mill began to grind: The spindle it was hardy, and the steanes were they well pickt, And the Meal fell in the Mill Trough, and ye may all come lick: _With a hey trolodel, hey trolodel, hey trolodel lill,_ _Bonny_ Peggy Ramsey _she gives weel her Mill._ _A_ SONG.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 561 ~ ~ ~
No never, she said, how never, he cry'd, 'Tis the Damn'd that shall only that Sentence abide.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 572 ~ ~ ~
_Come, my Boys come_, &c. We ha' cheated the Parson, we'll cheat him agen, For why should a Blockhead ha' One in Ten: One in Ten, One in Ten, For why should a Blockhead ha' One in Ten, _One in Ten_, &c. For prating too long, like a Book learnt Sot, 'Till Pudding and Dumpling are burnt to Pot: Burnt to Pot, Burnt to Pot, 'Till Pudding and Dumpling are burnt to Pot.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 724 ~ ~ ~
Jilt and smile when we adore 'em, While some Blockhead buys the Favour; Presents have more Power o'er 'em Than all our soft Love and Labour, Thus, like Zealots, with screw'd Faces, We our fooling make the greater, While we cant long winded Graces, Others they fall to the Creature.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 788 ~ ~ ~
A Chariot Gilt, To wait on Jilt, An awkward Pace and Carriage; A Foreign Tower, Domestick Whore, And Mercenary Marriage.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 790 ~ ~ ~
Duns, Bastards, Claps, And Am'rous Scraps, Of _Cælia_ and _Amadis_; Toss up a Beau, That Grand Ragou, That Hodge-Podge for the Ladies.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 941 ~ ~ ~
To the foregoing Tune._ Of late in the Park a fair Fancy was seen, Betwixt an old _Baud_ and a lusty young _Quean_; Their parting of Money began the uproar, I'll have half says the _Baud_, but you shan't says the _Whore_: Why 'tis my own House, I care not a Louse, I'll ha' three parts in four, or you get not a Souse.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 942 ~ ~ ~
'Tis I, says the _Whore_, must take all the Pains, And you shall be damn'd e'er you get all the Gains; The _Baud_ being vex'd, straight to her did say, Come off wi' your _Duds_, and I pray pack away, And likewise your _Ribbonds_, your _Gloves_, and your _Hair_, For naked you came, and so out you go bare; Then _Buttocks_ so bold, Began for to Scold, _Hurrydan_ was not able her _Clack_ for to hold.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 943 ~ ~ ~
Both _Pell-Mell_ fell to't, and made this uproar, With these Compliments, th'art a _Baud_, th'art a _Whore_: The _Bauds_ and the _Buttocks_ that liv'd there around, Came all to the Case, both _Pockey_ and _Sound_, To see what the reason was of this same Fray, That did so disturb them before it was Day; If I tell you amiss, Let me never more Piss, This _Buttocks_ so bold she named was _Siss_.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 944 ~ ~ ~
By _Quiffing_ with _Cullies_ three Pound she had got, And but one part of four must fall to her Lot; Yet all the _Bauds_ cry'd, let us turn her out bare, Unless she will yield to return her half share; If she will not, we'll help to strip off her Cloaths, And turn her abroad with a slit o' the Nose: Who when she did see, There was no Remedy, For her from the Tyranous _Bauds_ to get free; The _Whore_ from the Money was forced to yield, And in the Conclusion the _Baud_ got the Field.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 946 ~ ~ ~
_To the foregoing Tune._ Poor _Mountfort_ is gone, and the Ladies do all Break their Hearts for this Beau, as they did for _Duvall_; And they the two Brats for this Tragedy damn At _Kensington_ Court, and the Court of _Bantam_, They all vow and Swear, That if any Peer, Should acquit this young Lord, he shou'd pay very dear; Nor will they be pleased with him who on the Throne is, If he do's not his part to revenge their _Adonis_.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 978 ~ ~ ~
[Music] There lives an Ale-draper near _New-palace-yard_, Who used to Jerk the Bum of his Wife; And she was forced to stand on her Guard, To keep his Clutches from her Quoiff: She poor Soul the weaker Vessel, To be reconcil'd was easily won; He held her in scorn, But she Crown'd him with Horn, _Without Hood or Scarff, and rough as she run._ He for a Shilling sold his Spouse, And she was very willing to go; And left the poor Cuckold alone in the House, That he by himself his Horn might blow: A Hackney Coachman he did buy her, And was not this a very good Fun; With a dirty Pinner, As I am a Sinner, _Without Hood or Scarff, but rough as she run._ The Woman gladly did depart, Between three Men was handed away; He for her Husband did care not a Fart, He kept her one whole Night and Day: Then honest _Judge_ the Coachman bought her, And was not this most cunningly done?
~ ~ ~ Sentence 983 ~ ~ ~
[Music] Come Beaus, Virtuoso's, rich Heirs and Musicians Away, and in Troops to the _Jubile_ jog; Leave Discord and Death, to the College Physicians, Let the Vig'rous whore on, and the impotent Flog: Already _Rome_ opens her Arms to receive ye, And ev'ry Transgression her Lord will forgive ye.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 988 ~ ~ ~
Then for your Diversion the more to regale ye, Fine Music you'll hear, and high Dancing you'll see; Men who much shall out-warble your Famous _Fideli_, And make ye meer Fools, of _Balloon_ and _L'Abbe_: And to shew ye how fond they're to Kiss _Vostre Manos_, Each _Padre_ turns Pimp, all _Nuns_ Courtezana's.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 1,002 ~ ~ ~
[Music] In the Devil's Country there lately did dwell, A crew of such Whores as was ne'er bred in Hell, The Devil himself he knows it full well, _Which no Body can deny, deny;_ _Which no Body can deny._ There were Six of the Gang, and all of a Bud, Which open'd as soon as got into the Blood, There are five to be hang'd, when the other proves good, _Which no Body_, &c. But it seems they have hitherto sav'd all their Lives, Since they cou'd not live honest, there's four made Wives, The other two they are not Marry'd but Sw----s, _Which no Body_, &c. The Eldest the Matron of t'other Five Imps, Though as Chast as _Diana_, or any o'th' Nymphs, Yet rather than Daughter shall want it, she Pimps, _Which no Body_, &c. Damn'd Proud and Ambitious both Old and the Young, And not fit for honest Men to come among, A damn'd Itch in their Tail, and a sting in their Tongue, _Sing tantara rara Whores all, Whores all,_ _Sing tantara rara Whores all._ _A_ SONG.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 1,046 ~ ~ ~
[Music] Here's a Health to the Tackers, my Boys, But mine A----se for the Tackers about; May the brave _English_ Spirits come in, And the Knaves and _Fanaticks_ turn out: Since the _Magpyes_ of late, are confounding the State, And wou'd pull our Establishments down; Let us make 'em a Jest, for they Shit in their Nest, And be true to the Church and the Crown.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 1,149 ~ ~ ~
Some howling, some Bawling, some Leering, some Fleering, some Loving, some Shoving, with Legions of Furbelow'd Whores.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 1,151 ~ ~ ~
Fops prat'ling, Dies rat'ling, Rooks shaming, Puts Daming, Whores Painted, Mask's tainted, in Tallymans Furbelow'd Cloaths.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 1,152 ~ ~ ~
The Mobs Joys would you know to yon Musick-house go, see Tailors, and Saylors, Whores Oily in Doily, hear Musick, makes you sick: Cows Skipping, Clowns tripping, some Joaking, some Smoaking, like Spiggit and Tap; short Measure, strange Pleasure thus Billing, and Swilling, some yearly, get fairly, for Fairings Pig, Pork, and a Clap.]
~ ~ ~ Sentence 1,167 ~ ~ ~
how you protest and solemnly swear, Look humble, and fawn like an Ass; I'm pleas'd, I must own, when ever I see A Lover that's brought to this pass.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 1,179 ~ ~ ~
When o'er the Hills and far away; _Over the Hills_, &c. No more from sound of Drum retreat, While _Marlborough_, and _Gallaway_ beat, The _French_ and _Spaniards_ every Day, When over the Hills and far away; _Over the Hills_, &c. He that is forc'd to go and fight, Will never get true Honour by't, While Volunteers shall win the Day, When o'er the Hills and far away; _Over the Hills_, &c. What tho' our Friends our Absence mourn, We all with Honour shall return; And then we'll sing both Night and Day, Over the Hills and far away; _Over the Hills_, &c. The Prentice _Tom_ he may refuse, To wipe his angry Master's Shoes; For then he's free to sing and play, Over the Hills and far away; _Over the Hills_, &c. Over Rivers, Bogs, and Springs, We all shall live as great as Kings, And Plunder get both Night and Day, When over the Hills and far away, _Over the Hills_, &c. We then shall lead more happy Lives, By getting rid of Brats and Wives, That Scold on both Night and Day, When o'er the Hills and far away: _Over the Hills_, &c. Come on then Boys and you shall see, We every one shall Captains be, To Whore and rant as well as they, When o'er the Hills and far away: _Over the Hills_, &c. For if we go 'tis one to Ten, But we return all Gentlemen, All Gentlemen as well as they, When o'er the Hills and far away: _Over the Hills_, &c. _A_ Scotch SONG.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 1,189 ~ ~ ~
[Music] Now my Freedom's regain'd, and by _Bacchus_ I swear, All whining dull whimsys of Love I'll cashire: The Charm's more engaging in Bumpers of Wine, Then let _Chloe_ be Damn'd, but let this be Divine: Whilst Youth warms thy Veins, Boy embrace thy full Glasses, Damn _Cupid_ and all his poor Proselyte Asses; Let this be thy rule _Tom_, to square out thy Life, And when Old in a Friend, thou'lt live free from all Strife, Only envied by him that is plagu'd with a Wife.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 1,206 ~ ~ ~
Some half a Year after in the Form of a Pig, I met with the Rogue, and he look'd very big; I caught at his Leg, laid him down on a Log, E'er a Man could Fart twice, I made him a Hog: Huh, huh quoth the Devil, and gave such a Jerk, That a _Jew_ was Converted and eat of that Pork.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 1,221 ~ ~ ~
But when you find the Love fit comes upon her, Never trust much to her Honour; Tho' she may very high stand on't, Yet when her love is Ascendant, Her Vertue's quite out of Doors High Breeding, rank Feeding, With lazy Lives leading, In Ease and soft Pleasures, And taking loose Measures, With Play-house Diversions, And Midnight Excursions, With Balls Masquerading, And Nights Serenading, Debauch the Sex into Whores, Sir.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 1,249 ~ ~ ~
[Music] _Chloe_ blush'd and frown'd and swore, And push'd me rudely from her; I call'd her Faithless, Jilting Whore, To talk to me of Honour: But when I rose and wou'd be gone, She cry'd nay, whither go ye?
~ ~ ~ Sentence 1,259 ~ ~ ~
You Gallery Haunters, who love to lye snug, And maunch Apples or Cakes, while some Neighbour you hugg; Ye lofties, Genteels, who above us all sit, And look down with Contempt, on the Mob in the Pit, Here's what you like best, Jigg, Song and the rest, Free Laughers, close Graffers, dry Jokers, old Soakers, Kind Cousins, by Dozens, your Customs don't break: Sly Spouses with Blouses, grave Horners, in Corners, Kind No-wits, save Poets, clap 'till your Hands ake, And tho' the Wits Damn us, we'll say the Whims take.