At Noon he gets up for a Whet and to dine, And wings the fwift Hours with Mirth, Mufick, and Wine ;

Then jogs to the Play-house and chats with the Mafques,

And thence to the Rofe where he takes his three Flafks.

There great as a Cæfar he revels when drunk, And fcours all he meets as he reels, as he reels to his Punk,

And finds the dear Girl in his Arms when he wakes,

What Life can compare to the jolly Town-Rake's, the jolly Town-Rake's.

He like the Great Turk has his favourite She, But the Town's his Seraglio, and still he lives

free;

Sometimes the's a Lady, but as he must range, Black Betty, or Oyster Moll ferve for a Change: As he varies his Sports his whole Life is a Feaft, He thinks him that is fob'reft is most like a Beaft:

At 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 Rake's?

Thus in Covent-Garden he makes his Campaigns, And no Coffee-Houfe haunts but to fettle his

Brains;

He laughs at dry Mortals, and never does think, Unless 'tis to get the best Wenches and Drink: He dwells in a Tavern, and lives ev'ry where, And improving his Hour, lives an Age in a Year : For as Life is uncertain, he loves to make hafte, And thus he lives longeft, because he lives faft:

Then leaps in the Dark, and his Exit he makes, What Death can compare with the jolly TownRake's ?

SONG LII. There lives, &c.

Here lives an Ale-draper near New po¬ lace-Yard,

TH

Who used to Jerk the Bum of his Wife; And he was forced to ftand on her Guard, To keep his Clutches from her Quoiff; She, poor Soul, the weaker Veffel,

To be reconcil'd was eafily won; He held her in Scorn,

But the crown'd him with Horn,

Without Hood or Scarf, and rough as she run, He for a Shilling fold his Spouse,

And he 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 Scarf, &c

The Woman gladly did depart,

Between three Men was handed away; He for her Hufband did not care a Fart, He kept her one whole Night and Day: Then honeft Judge the Coachman bought her, And was not this moft cunningly done? Gave for her five Shilling,

To take her was willing,

Without Hood or Scarf, &c.

The Cuckold to Judge a Letter did fend,
Wherein he did most humbly crave;
Quoth he, I prithee, my Rival Friend,
My Spoufe again I fain would have:
And if you will but let me have her,
I'll pardon what she e'er has done;

I fwear by my Maker,

Again I will take her,

Without Hood or Scarf, &c.

He fent an old Bawd to interceed,

And to perfwade her to come back; That he might have one of her delicate Breed, And he would give her a ha'p'uth of Sack Therefore prithee now come to me,

Or elfe poor I fhall be undone : Then do not forego me,

But prithee come to me,

Without Hood or Scarf, tho' rough, &c, The Coachman then with much ado

Did fuffer the Bawd to take her out;
Upon the Condition that he would be true,
And let him have now and then à Bout
But he took from her forty Shillings,

And gave her a parting Glafs at the Sun;
And then with a good buy t'ye,
Pifcharged his Duty,

And turn'd her a grazing, rough as fhe run.
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 Cuckold's-Point was come;
They kiffed and fumbled,

They touzed and tumbled,

He was glad to take her rough as fhe run, Judge does enjoy her where he lift,

He values not the old Cuckold's Pouts; And he is as good for the Game as e'er pift, Fudge on his Horns fits drying of Clouts; She rants and revels when the pleases,

And to end as I begun,

The Horned Wife-acre

Is forced to take her,

Without Hood or Scarf, and rough as he run

SONG LIII.

H Mother, Roger, with his Kiffes
Almoft ftops my Breath, I vow;
Why does he gripe my Hand to Pieces,
And yet he fays he loves me too?
Tell me Mother, pray now do,
Pray now do, pray now do!
Tell me Mother, pray now do,
What Roger means when he does fo
For never ftir I long to kncè.
Nay more, the haughty Man befide it,
Something in my Mouth he put;
I call'd him Beaft, and try'd to bite it,
But for my Life I cannot do't:
Tell me Mother, pray now do, &c.
He fets me in his Lap whole Hours,
Where I feel I know not what;
Something I never felt in yours,
Pray tell me Mother, what is that?
Tell me Mother, what is that?
For never fir I long to know.

SONG LIV. How bleft, &c.
OW bleft are Shepherds, how happy their
Laffes,

While Drums and Trumpets are founding Alarms :

Over our lowly Sheds all the Storm paffes,

And when we die, 'tis in each other's Arms: All the Day on our Herds and Flocks employing, All the Night on our Flutes, and in enjoying. All the Day, &c.

Bright Nymphs of Britain,with Graces attended,

Let not your Days without Pleasure expire; Honour's but empty, and when Youth is ended, All Men will praise you, but none will defire: Let not Youth fly away without contenting, Age will come time enough for your repenting. Let not Youth, &c.

SONG LV. Of old Soldiers, &c.

OF

F old Soldiers, the Song you would hear,
And we old Fidlers have forgot who they
were ;

But all we remember fhall come to your Ear,
That we are old Soldiers of the Queen's,
And the Queen's old Soldiers.

With the Old Drake, that was the next Man
To Old Francifcus, who firft it began
To fail through the Streights of Magellan,
Like an old Soldier, &c.

That put the proud Spanish Armada to wreck, And travell'd all o'er the old World, and came back

In his old Ship, laden with Gold and old Sack; Like, &c.

With an Old Cavendish that feconded him, And taught his old Sails the fame Paffage to fwim,

And did him therefore with Cloth of Gold trim. Like, &c.

Like an Old Raleigh, that twice and again
Sail'd over moft Part of the Seas, and then
Travell'd all o'er the old World with his Pen ;
Like, &c.

With an Old John Norris, the General,
That old Gaunt made his Fame immortal,
In fpite of his Foes, with no Loss at all;
Like, &c.

Like old Breft Fort, an invincible Thing,
When the old Queen fent him to help the French
King,

Took from the proud Fox, to the World's wond'ring;

Like, &c.

Where an old ftout Friar, as goes the Story,

Came to Pufh off a Pike with him in vain Glory