Vulgar words in The Merry-Thought: or the Glass-Window and Bog-House Miscellany - Parts 2, 3 and 4 (Page 1)
This book at a glance
|
|
~ ~ ~ Sentence 90 ~ ~ ~
The woman takes umbrage at her admirer's suggestions that the glass on which he writes is "the Emblem" of her mind in being "brittle, slipp'ry, [and] pois'nous," and writes in retort: I must confess, kind Sir, that though this Glass, Can't prove me brittle, it proves you an Ass.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 126 ~ ~ ~
"[8] [Footnote 7: See Martin Pops, "The Metamorphosis of Shit," _Salmagundi_ 56 (1982): 27-61.]
~ ~ ~ Sentence 153 ~ ~ ~
As we have seen, the verses themselves vary from the grossest comments on shit to the most passionate expressions of love.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 185 ~ ~ ~
a Fart.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 186 ~ ~ ~
Hence _Cantabs_ take this moral Trite, 'Gainst Nature, if ye think or sh - - te; Use all the Labour, all the Art, 'Twill ne'er exceed a Pun, or Fart.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 207 ~ ~ ~
He's but a Blockhead at the best.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 227 ~ ~ ~
_From innumerable Windows._ Like _Mars_ I'll fight, like _Antony_ I'll love, I'll drink like _Bacchus_, and I'll whore like _Jove_.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 301 ~ ~ ~
Hang me, if I will _hang_ for any Woman, For most of them alike are very common; I'd sooner trudge as I have done before, Than hang upon a d----d confounded Whore.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 321 ~ ~ ~
_Underwritten._ For Money one may whore, And I'll say no more.---- R. T. _At the same Place._ I am a young Thing, just come from my Mammy.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 358 ~ ~ ~
_On A Window at Canbury-House._ The Breast of ev'ry _British_ Fair, Like this bright, brittle, slippery Glass, A Diamond makes Impression there, Though on the Finger of an Ass.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 374 ~ ~ ~
_Her Answer underneath._ I must confess, kind Sir, that though this Glass, Can't prove me brittle, it proves you an Ass.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 399 ~ ~ ~
_Underwritten._ Mr. Pimp, had I known your Worship was there, Which I no more dreamt of, than sleeping, When once I'd dispatch'd my Affair with the Fair, By G----d, you'd paid dear for your Peeping.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 444 ~ ~ ~
_Salisbury, on a Window._ My Dear, like a Candle, Lights every one's Handle, Yet loses no Bit of her own: She will piss, and she'll kiss Until every one hiss, And she better had stay'd at Home.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 452 ~ ~ ~
_Richmond, Yorkshire, on a Window._ If Death doth come as soon as Breath departs; Then he must often die, who often farts: And if to die be but to lose one's Breath; Then Death's a Fart, and so a Fart for Death.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 465 ~ ~ ~
Thrice was I reckon'd for my Meat; Thrice was I reckon'd for Miss _Milly_'s treat; Thrice was I reckon'd for my dirty Boots; Thrice was I reckon'd for not having Roots; Thrice was I reckon'd by the lazy Fellows; And thrice I swore, I wish'd them at the Gallows; And if I come here any more, Then call me a Son of a Whore.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 558 ~ ~ ~
_Temple, in a Gentleman's Chambers._ When _Phillis_ wore her brightest Face, All Men rejoic'd in every Grace: Her Patch, her Mein, her Forward Chin, Cry'd, Gentlemen, Pray who'll come in: But now her Wrinkles are come on her, } All Men who ever were upon her, } Cry out, a Fart upon her Honour.}
~ ~ ~ Sentence 595 ~ ~ ~
So wise a Law would doubtless tend To prove our Senate, Learning's Friend; Whilst Trade, and such like fond Chimeras, Might wait more fit and leisure _Æra's._ _From a Window at the _Dolphin_ Inn in _Southampton_._ The Wedding-Night past, says Sir _John_ to his Mate, Faith Madam I'm bit (tho' I find it too late) By your d - - - n'd little Mouth, or else I'm a Whore's Son, For the Cross underneath's quite out of Proportion.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 598 ~ ~ ~
_From A Boghouse at the _White Hart_, Petersfield._ Were this Place to be view'd by a Herald of Note, He would find a new Charge for the next new-bought Coat, Which _Guillim_ ne'er thought of, nor one of the Herd, _Viz._ a Wall erect Argent, _Gutte de T----d._ And as a Reward, for improving the Art, He should bear on a Fess (if he paints it) a F - - - t. _Underwritten._ A Pox on your writing, I thought you were sh - - - - g, My great Gut has giv'n me such Twitches: Had you scribled much more, I'm a Son of a Whore, If I should not have don't in my Breeches.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 613 ~ ~ ~
_An Encomium on a _Fart_._ I sing the Praises of a _Fart_.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 616 ~ ~ ~
When _Virgil_'s _Gnat_, and _Ovid_'s _Flea_, And _Homer_'s _Frogs_ strive for the Day; There is no Reason in my Mind, That a brave _Fart_ should come _behind_: Since that you may it _parallel_, With any Thing that doth _excel_.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 617 ~ ~ ~
_Musick_ is but a _Fart_ that's sent From the _Guts_ of an _Instrument_: The Scholar _farts_; but when he gains Learning with _cracking_ of his Brains; And having spent much Pain and Oil, _Thomas_ and _Dun_ to reconcile, For to learn the abstracting _Art_, What does he get by't?
~ ~ ~ Sentence 618 ~ ~ ~
Not a _Fart_.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 619 ~ ~ ~
The Soldier makes his Foes to run With but the _Farting_ of a Gun; That's if he make the _Bullet whistle_, Else 'tis no better than a _Fizzle_: And if withal the Winds do stir-up Rain, 'tis but a _Fart_ in Syrrup.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 621 ~ ~ ~
Applause is but a _Fart_, the crude _Blast_ of the fickle Multitude.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 625 ~ ~ ~
As soon as born, they by-and-by, _Fart-like_, but only breathe, and die.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 627 ~ ~ ~
I'll say no more, for this is right, That for my _Guts_ I cannot write; Though I should study all my Days, Rhimes that are worth the Thing I praise: What I have said, take in good Part, If not, I do not care a _Fart_.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 658 ~ ~ ~
_By my Lord's Gentleman._ _Written in the first Leaf of _Arbor Vitæ_._ Two D - - - s, and a Doctor, 'tis said, wrote this Piece, Who were modest as Whores, and witty as Geese.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 660 ~ ~ ~
_At the _Red Lyon_ at _Egham_, and in the Windows at many other Places._ _Cornutus_ call'd his Wife both Whore and Slut, Quoth she, you'll never leave your Brawling--but-- But, what?
~ ~ ~ Sentence 661 ~ ~ ~
quoth he: Quoth she, the Post or Door; For you have Horns to But, if I'm a Whore.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 724 ~ ~ ~
_The _Italian_ Gout._ If a Man lets a Fart in fair _Italy_, From Lovers he never is after free; For why ---- amongst those Dons, 'tis said, 'Tis a certain Sign of a Male Maidenhead.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 755 ~ ~ ~
_In the Vaults at _Tunbridge_._ Like Claret-Drinkers Stools, a Blockhead's Brain; Hardly conceives what it brings forth with Pain.
~ ~ ~ Sentence 794 ~ ~ ~
To which is added, Two Poems, _Helter-Skelter_, on the Hue and Cry after the Country Attornies, on their Riding the Circuit; and, The Place of the _Damn'd_.