- t at his Gate like a Rogue,
He'd do to him Lord knows what.
Quoth the Wit -- why know you not that?
Then, Neighbour, e'en save your Pence,
For his Learning is all a Pretence:
If he knows not who sh - t----of course,
He nothing can know of your Horse.
And no Light can his Figures afford,
Whose Conjuring's not worth a T----
So as wise our two Clowns came Home,
As any who on such Errands roam.

_On a Pannel at the Faulcon in _St. Neot_'s _Huntingdonshire_._

My Maidenhead sold for a Guinea,
A lac'd Head with the Money I bought;
In which I look'd so bonny,
The Heart of a Gamester I caught:
A while he was fond, and brought Gold to my Box,
But at last he robb'd me, and left me the P----

_Underneath._

When you balance Accounts, it sure may be said,
You at a bad Market sold your Maidenhead.

_The _Inamorato_. In a Window at _Twickenham_._

When dull and melancholy,
I rove to charming _Dolly_,
Whose Sweetness doth so charm me,
And wanton Tricks so warm me,
That quite dissolv'd in Love,
No Trouble then I prove,
But am as truly blest
Upon her panting Breast,
As if to me she brought
All for which _Caesar_ fought:
For I, like _Anthony_,
With Beauty would be free,
Altho' again't shou'd cost
The Price of Empire lost.

_An _Answer_. In the next Pane._

You sure were full of Folly,
When in the Praise of _Dolly_,
You wrote your am'rous Ditty,
Which sure deserves her Pity,
Since plainly it doth prove,
Your Brain is crack'd with Love;
Who else would talk of giving
An Empire for a ----
When Twenty will down }
Each for a Silver Crown, }
And thank you when they've done }

_In a Window. At _Lebeck's-Head_._

If it be true each Promise is a Debt,
Then _Celia_ hardly will her Freedom get;
Yet she, to satisfy her Debts, desires
To yield her Body as the Law requires.

_In the _Summer-House_ on _Gray's Inn Terras_._

Who speaks to please in ev'ry Way,
And not himself offend,
He may begin to work to Day,
But Heaven knows when he'll end.

_In the same Place._

Dogs on their Masters fawn and leap,
And wag their Tails apace,
So tho' a Flatterer wants a Tail,
His Tongue supplies its Place.

_In a Window of the _Rene-Deer-Inn_ at _Bishop's-Strafford_._

He that loves a Glass without a G,
Leave out L, and that is he.

_Wrote with a Pen