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Page 45:-
Having left me, Venus swore it,
She'd Shooe-horn her Vulcan's Forehead.
At New-castle Under-line a,
There I trounc'd it in burnt Wine a:
None o' th' Wicked there remained,
Weekly Lectures were proclaimed:
Chastity they roughly handle,
While blind Zeal snuffs out the Candle.
Thence to th' Bell at Stone strait draw I,
Delia *, no Diana saw I:
By the Parson I was cited,
Who held me for Jesuited;
In his Search, the Door fast locked,
Nought but Cards were in my Pocket.
Thence to Haywood taking flight-a,
Mine Hostess gave me Brawn at Night-a:
But, what's that unto the Matter?
Whiskins sorted with my Nature:
To brave Bacchus no Gift quicker
Than Meat changed to strong Liquor.
Thence to Ridgelay, where a Black-smith,
Liquor being all he'd take with;
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