Says Patty the prude, and she wide spread her fan,Me marry! What? I go to bed to a Man?

I detest all Male Creatures! My God!-I shall swoon!

She did and was brought to-bed, faith, before noon!

To London Pa sent her, when bloom was regain'd,
Invi'late her Maidenhead there she maintain'd;
For a Virgin was wed, she knew how to be mum,
So gain'd a good Husband, her Husband a Hum.
Miss nicely observ'd, wastly wulgar's this word,
Immensely indelicate, monsterous absurd:

Yet last night, dear Miss, when you thought yourself snug,

You confess'd-without loving-life's all a Humbug.

The wanton Wife often, too often I fear,

Proves Words to be Facts when she calls her Spouse Deer;

And enjoys the sweet cheat as stol'n pleasures she hugs,

How cunningly now she her Cuckold humbugs.

But Husband at home, as few marry'd men wish,

To dine ev'ry day on the very

Fal de roll, toll loll. same dish,

Doll de roll, &c. Makes a meal with her Maid, the thing publicly

known is,

A Tete-a-Tete feast, call'd the Lex Talionis.

Fal de roll, &c.

THE COMET.

TUNE.

"Shou'd I once become great, what a business twou'd be."

HAD

AD I old Homer here, I wou'd make that wretch see,

(Quoth Venus) whom 'tis he abuses;

What business has any Verse-monger with me?
Their Prudes let them stick to,-the Muses.-
And so I was wounded by rough Diomede?
A pretty dress'd up sort of story;
See Jupiter smiles-but Papa now, indeed,
'Tis not for your Honour and Glory.

Why will you permit these Mortality Frights,
What Olympus has plann'd to review?
Don't suffer such Reptiles to creep out at nights
T'observe what we Deities do.

Immensely impertinent 'twas, you must own,
My Transit to see, aud expose it;
Because, t'other day, I just drove out of Town,
Their Spectacles peep'd in my Closet.

A moment Jove laid his bright dignity down,
And let Laughter illumine his face;

To his Daughter reply'd-Cytharea, a frown
Becomes not the Empress of Grace.

Those Atoms of Clay which you see to and fro',
Skip about on yon' Globular Crust,

Like the blue on a plumb, are but Insects you know,
A mere Animalculous Dust.

Those Emmets, 'tis true, scientifical prate,
A race of half-reasoning Elves,

Who all can account (as they think) for my State,
Yet know not the State of themselves.
They pretend to examine Eternity's rules,
The Cause of all Causes dispute;

I'll shew you these arrogant Earth-worms are Fools,
And thus all their Systems confute.

Away, at his word, the vast COMET rush'd forth,
And swift thro' immensity blaz'd⚫

Yet Attraction went on, tho' it girdl'd the Earth-
On Earth, how the Star-peepers gaz'd.
Each circl'd, and circl'd a scheme of his own,
And reason'd about, and awry ;

In derision, a moment, Immortals look down,
'Twas a Jest for the Sons of the Sky.

Be humble, ye Beings of feeble Threescore,
Shall Finites,-Infinity scan?

The best of us only are Men, and no more-
And, at best, only think what is Man?
A contrary mixture of Pity and Scorn,
Pride, Servility, Sorrow, and Mirth;

In a Moment he's made, in a Moment he's born,
In a Moment again he is Earth.

Sons of Error; for that's all the birthright ye share, As ev'ry day's actions make known;

No longer let Vanity gaze into Air,

But think of itself and look down.

Yet hold!-let us think,-to look down did I say?
I did so, and so seize my Cup,

Come, do as I do, and I'll shew you the way,
The best way, my Lads, to look up.

THE BLOOD.

TUNE.

"Tars of Old England."

'E learn'd of the Age,

YE

Each Artist, each Sage,

Ye Speakers at fam'd Robinhood,
Describe, or decline,

Or derive, or define,

What the Character is of a Blood?

Macaronies so neat,
Pert Jemmies so sweet,
With all their effeminate brood;
Free-Masons so shy,

Choice Spirits so high,

Are kick'd out of doors by a Blood.

If making a Bet,
Or if taking a Whet,

Or if beating the Rounds he thinks good,

Who dare to oppose,

Will be pluck'd by the Nose,

With a

-Dam'me Sir, a'n't I a Blood?

If the constable queer,

And the Watch shou'd appear, His Riots to quell, if they cou'd, Without compliment,

Out of Window they're sent, And that is fine fun for a Blood.

He laughs at Old Nick,
Calls Religion a trick,

And his Argument can't be withstood;
'Tis a Bett or an Oath,

But most commonly both,

As to Reason,-What's that to a Blood?

As we have but our Day,
Even Bloods must decay,

He wou'd keep it up still if he cou'd ;
But his Manors foreclos'd,

And his honour expos'd,

He must dye as he liv'd-like a Blood.

To retrench wou'd be base,
To repent a disgrace,

So he acts just as Geniusses shou'd;
By a Med'cine of Lead,

Warm apply'd to his Head,
He cures the Disease of a Blood.

DO THE SAME.

TUNE "HOW D'YE DO?”

ARK Anthony gave up the world for a Girl, ththe same is a Churl,

MAR

Do the same! that's the Thing;-do not think me

to blame

If a Bumber I drink, will not you do the same?

But what do you think that I mean by all this?
Why evil to them who imagine amiss.

Hit or miss, Luck is all; are the Lucky to blame?
No no, do but win-we wou'd all do the same.