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The Second part of The Nights Search

Discovering The Condition of the various Fowles of Night. Or, The second great Mystery of Iniquity exactly revealed: With the Projects of these Times. In a Poem, By Humphrey Mill

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VVhen swarfie night had mufled up the Queen
With clouds of darknes, sable vails, in spleen

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Were spred before the Stars; their twinckling light,
Must look tow'ards home, accus'd by envious night:
All Colours were alike; she seem'd to have
The glory of the world, bound in a grave.

Fancies.


The watch was set, the Court of guard was plac'd,
The spies went forth, bold sinners were disgracd,
Though mask'd with darknes. By & by they brought
A rabble rout, that sold themselves for nought,
To purchase hell on earth. A Captain came
That spit out oathes; I must not tell his Name.
A damme blade, for he will tak't in snuffe;
He's dawbd with silver lace, and clad in buffe.
But pennylesse poore slave! the night before
He had a Crown, but that he met a whore,

A Damie Blade:


That rob'd him of his wits, to trade with sin,
He to the bargain gave his money in.
He was a plunderer, roving up and down;
Just such a one would have betray'd the Towne.
A theif in Office. Ever untill that,
This swash was judg'd to be a beggars brat.
But here's a Maior, that can keep his Jade
At hard meat all the year; and drive a trade
Of robbing by a word. This Country Votes

Maior.


Can justifie: but he will cut their throats

Plunder.


If they complaine. His Colonel's out
And when he went, he car'd his Doxie down,
Untill his shame increast, and coyne was spent;
His Tenants plunder'd, cannot pay his rent.

A Colonel.


At Basing, Redding, or at Maidenhead,
He drops his ware, and he is gone to bed

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Without his supper; having little ease,
His braines, and cash are morgag'd for disease.
But here's a woman, that is faine to stay
In Town a while, to get her husbands pay:
Yee dy'd with wounds; and while she stayes in town,
She'l truck with hell, to bear her charges down.
And then she'l leave: ere this she'ad chang'd her ground
Her bawd ha's still a noble in the pound.
Sir, her's a Sodomite, a souldier too,

The Bawd a Noble in the pound.


A damned Cab: that used much to wooe
An Incubus, and he will sell mens lives
For pence a peece. He thinks because he thrives

A Sodomite.


That Hel's his friend. He must commit Incest,
Or else a Rape, or bugger any beast.
He's like the Dutch-man, hell hath made so bold
That ravish't women, having stole their Gold.
He's for the Subjects Liberty, and will

a mad rub.


Die a good Protestant. He'l only kill
The Kings ill wishers. Here's his only friend
Has still three wives alive. And 'tis his end
To take another, help him in this case,
For all his wives are distant from this place.

4. Wives.


She must have means (for here awhile he'l stay)
To keep him brave, till he can run away.
What greasie peece is this? this is a spye,
That has been long in service; faine to flie
For Conscience sake. His company was lost
At Edge-hill fight: was ever Captain crost

A conceited Captain.


As he hath been? he was beyond Sea maim'd,
At Hoast-end fiege, but he is here maintaind

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For Information. He doth sculk about,
In bawdy Cells, to send down news, no doubt,
He has allowance: and his queans for nought;
As for the running in the Raines he bought.
He's fiery fac't; his company was rais'd
Within his bosome: of ill spirits praysd,

his Condition.


He gives this Motto, (and he kicks at Fate)
Au Segnior, Captiano, grand Souldate.
A monstrous woman! to the guard we'l send her,
A parboild frow, and of the neuter gender.
Who alwayes waites to snare men in a gin;

a Frow.


And claimes a priviledge to make them sin.
To beg sometimes, and otherwhile complaine,
Then breath out wishes; any thing to gain
A mony'd guest. Oh! now 'tas found a spark,
That's flig indeed, a walking in the dark:
The Jades are all too course: this frap must borrow
A finer tib: they shall be paid to morow.
If Gill comes from the Knight, that did so seek
To gaine her love; she's hir'd for a week.
Here's a common souldier, who was found
At letchers base, within the Divells ground.

A common Souldier.


He's drest with rags; nor can he get his pay
To cloth himselfe. He hopes to see the day
When theft shall be in fashion: yet he must
Eate, drink, game, whore; all on the common trust.
Who's this, his trull? indeed forsooth I went
Down to the Army; with no ill intent,

his Trull.


Onely to see my friends; and use my trade,
The Marshall us'd me roughly; that he made

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Me leave the field; my Love and I to rest,
Did think (in Winter) Garison was best,
To ease each other: is it any sin?
He pimps without, whiles I do work within.
With Cabies we are suffer'd, day and night,
Their plunder and their Wenches, mak'em fight.
Pray Marshall keep 'em safe.