.Nw.OTQy

Hither your knives, ye Christians, clad in blew, Bring to be whether by the ruthless Jew! Hard is your Lot, who, seldom doom'd to eat Cast a sheep's Eye on this forbidden meat --. Gaze on Surloins, which, Ah! we cannot carve, And in the midst of Legs of Mutton -- Starve. But woud you to our house in crouds repair, Ye generous Captains, & ye blooming fair, The fate of Tantalus we should not fear, Nor pine for a repast that is so near. Monarchs no more would supperless remain, Nor pregnant Queen for cutlely [crossed out lery] lory [sic: cutlery] in vain,

On the Fashionable Pads

In Promptu

ye white-bridles widows, young virgins and old, who near quilted Pads, it is taken for granted, (For the case is so plain, that we need not be told) 'tis the true swell of nature alone that is natural

Bosom Friend