The London-Spy Compleat In Eighteen Parts :: :: University of Virginia Library

Himself the Scavenger, his House the Cart,
Where Plodding Men throw in their Drossy Pelf:
Thus, like a Farmer he from Rich Mens Dirt,
Raises a happy Living to himself.

With others Cards a cunning Game he Plays:
They stand the Hazard, whilst he Gains his Ends;
He Borrows still, and still no In'trest Pays,
And ne'er without a Damn'd Extortion Lends.

Tho' Proud and Stately, whether Rich or Poor,
Is to all Men except himself unknown:
Amidst his Borrow'd Treasures he's no more,
Than Slave to others Riches, not his own.

His Dealings are so dark a Mystery,
No Man can truly tell, tho' ne'er so Wise,
Whether he Trives, or that he Honest be,
Until the Black-Palm'd Miser breaks or Dies.

401

With one Mans Money be another Pays:
To this he Cuts, and to the other Deals;
Small Accidents his Credit oft Decays,
Then Farewel Fingers, God have Mercy Heels.

The Beggars Curse him as they pass his Door,
Envy the Heaps of Riches which they see;
Beg but in vain, then wish the Banker Poor,
Who Rowles in Wealth, but has no Charity.

Great Sums each Day are on his Counters told,
And Piles of Bags his Fetter'd Trunks contain:
But yet for all his Silver and his Gold,
He's but the Mimick of a vast Rich Man.

407

[Bless the good Ladies and good Food]

Bless the good Ladies and good Food,
That Heav'n has set before us;
And may we Men prove all so good,
The Women may Adore us.

May these thy Fruitful Dames Live long,
Grow ev'ry Day more Handsome:
And may their Husbands prove as strong
I'th Back, as Second Sampson.

408

May they Dance Merrily each Night,
Without a Pipe or Tabour;
And Mother Midnight bring to Light,
The Fruit of all their Labour.

God Save the King, and send quite thro' the Realm,
Men may Obey, and Women Rule the Helm.

411

[Our hearty Thanks we humbly Pay]

Our hearty Thanks we humbly Pay,
For th'Blessings we have tasted;
L---d send such Christ'nings every Day,
That we may thus be Feasted.

We Bless thee for each merry Dame;
And her good Conversation;
O bring 'em Yearly to the same
Blest End of their Creation.

May they abound in Girles and Boys,
Yet still and still be Kist-on;
That we may meet and thus rejoice
To make each Babe a Christian.

Bless all good Women in their Married State,
Make their Pains easie, and their Pleasure great.

413

The Character of a Gossip.

Seven Years in Wedlock first she must have spent,
And must have made her Spouse as long Repent,
That such a Curse was e'er from Heaven sent.

By Nature made to Teem, to Tease and Vex;
No longer Happy than she can Perplex;
Lustful t'wards Men, and Envious to her Sex.

Homely, Disdainful, Talkative, and Proud;
Foolish, Self-will'd, too Stubborn to be Bow'd;
Fiery as Light'ning, and as Thunder Loud.

A Junket-Foll'wer, and a Friend to Wine,
Who to her Betters will no Place Resign;
And hates the Gossip that appears more Fine.

Of her own Faults she others does Accuse,
Her Neighbours Failings are her chiefest News;
And rails against that Vice she most pursues.

Her Spight at ev'ry Well-bred She, takes Aims;
The Modest Woman is a close sly Dame,
Who tho' she Opens not, yet Hunts the Game.

She's the still Sow that Drinks up all the Draught,
Tho' so Reserv'd in Tongue, she's Loose in Thought;
And is the most suspected to be Naught.

414

If Handsome; then the Envious Tatler cries,
Her Face is well enough, sh'as pretty Eyes;
But has an ugly Fault, else People Lies.

VVhat I have heard, I'm very loth to Speak;
Besides all that, she gives her Cheeks the Lick;
And is as Ill-Condition'd as Old-Nick.

Were I a Man, such Beauty I'd Adore,
As should be only Nat'ral, and no more;
For she that Paints, will doubtless be a Whore.

Beauty's but Fancy Silly Boys Pursue;
Men Love a VVoman that is Just and True;
She's only Handsome that will Handsome do.

She Blames the Dame that like her self is free,
Who Loves good Liquor and much Company:
One Gossip with another can't agree.

To Drink a merry Cup she holds no harm,
And finds in Brandy such a secret Charm,
It cheers her Heart, and keeps her Stomach warm.

Abroad she Walks to see, and to be seen;
And if the good Man asks her where sh'as been;
With a Gallant, Tom-Coney; and what then?

Fools must ask Questions: I'm your Wife, 'tis true;
But am of Age, and know sure what I do;
Can Go and Come, without the leave of you.

Art Jealous, Love? You need not be affraid,
Had you a Wise like such a One, Egad,
You then indeed might fear an Aking-Head.

415

But I (as God well knows my heart) despise
The very thought, (altho' she knows she Lyes.)
B'ing Maudlin, then to please the Fool she Cryes.

Thus Charms the Man with her Dissembling Spell;
A Thousand Lyes can in a Moment tell;
And when she pleases, make things ill or well.

Thus she the Breeches wears, and Rules the Roast;
Of which she does at all her meetings boast;
The Man's no more, God help him, than a Post.

She tells how all things on her Care depends;
She Buys and Pays, she Borrows and she Lends;
Hoards what she pleases, what she pleases spends.

None could his ugly Humours bear but she;
Besides, she's sure he cannot but agree,
She understands the Trade as well as he.

She pleases Customers much better far;
He oft Neglects his Shop, he does not Care;
Pounds would be often lost, were she not there.

Believe me Neighbour, he's so Peevish grown,
E'er since he has been Troubl'd with the Stone,
That t'would be happy for him he was gone,

Poor Man, I pitty him with all my Heart,
And wish I could but ease him of his Smart,
He cannot say but I have done my Part.

Thus can she Lie, Dissemble, and be Drunk,
Rail at Tobac; yet for the Tooth-Ach Funk,
And wants no Odious Symptoms of a Punk.

416

May my Throat meet a Halter or a Knife,
Or any way, good Heaven, dissolve my Life,
Rather than Plague me with so Damn'd a Wife.