Jemmy Twitcher: or, The Cambridge Courtship

When sly Jemmy Twitcher had smugg'd up his face,
With a lick of court white-wash, and pious grimace,
A wooing he went, where three sisters of old
In harmless society guttle and scold.
"Lord! sister," says PHYSIC to LAW, "I declare,
Such a sheep-biting look, such a pick-pocket air!
Not I for the Indies! — You know I'm no prude, —
But his nose is a shame, — and his eyes are so lewd!
Then he shambles and straddles so oddly — I fear —
No — at our time of life 'twould be silly, my dear."
"I don't know," says LAW, "but methinks for his look,
'Tis just like the picture in Rochester's book;
Then his character, Phyzzy, — his morals — his life —
When she died, I can't tell, — but he once had a wife; —
They say he's no Christian, loves drinking and whoring,
And all the town rings of his swearing and roaring!
And niching and lying, and Newgate-bird tricks; —
Not I — for a coronet, chariot and six."

DIVINITY heard, between waking and dozing,
Her sisters denying, and Jemmy proposing:
From table she rose, and with bumper in hand,
She strok'd up her belly, and strok'd down her band —
"What a pother is here about wenching and roaring!
Why, David lov'd catches, and Solomon whoring:
Did not Israel filch from the Egyptians of old
Their jewels of silver and jewels of gold?
The prophet of Bethel, we read, told a lie:
He drinks — so did Noah; — he swears — so do I:
To reject him for such peccadillos, were odd;
Besides, he repents — for he talks about God —
[To Jemmy]
Never hang down your head, you poor penitent elf,
Come buss me — I'll be Mrs. Twitcher myself."