 | Wits Bedlam, Where is had, Whipping-cheer, to cure the Mad |  |
Of a merry World.
Epi. 365.
Lord! what a merry World is this now grown?Late call'd a Uale of Troubles and of Teares;
The Temples-Marke quite puts the Sermon downe
For great resot of Commons, Mad dames, Peeres.
The World runnes all on Wheeles; for, as I went
From Temple-barre to Bed-ward, was so barr'd
VVith Rankes of Coaches, of such huge extent,
That, as with {Edons} prest, with me it far'd:
For, for a {Bor stoore} hardly found I Way
Or if i did, t'was Edg-long, soild with Durt;
{Yet} In and Out I danc't a nasty Hay;
And, glad I was I had none other Hurt:
But, wisht each Coach had Carted the owner
That all my mire (at least) had fall'n vpon her.
| Wits Bedlam, Where is had, Whipping-cheer, to cure the Mad | |