THE CANDIDATE: BY Mr. GRAY.
[][][][][][][][]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, now methinks, for his look,
'Tis juſt like the picture in Rocheſter's book.
But his character, Phyzzy, his morals, his life;
When ſhe died, I can't tell, but he once had a wife.
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They ſay he's no Chriſtian, loves drinking and whoring,
And all the town rings of his ſwearing and roaring,
His lying, and filching, 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 dinner ſhe roſe with her bumper in hand,
She ſtroked up her belly, and ſtroked down her band.
What a pother is here about wenching and roaring!
Why David loved catches, and Solomon whoring.
Did not Iſrael filch from th' Aegyptians 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 refuſe him for ſuch peccadillos, were odd;
Beſides, he repents, and he talks about G--.
Never hang down your head, you poor penitent elf!
Come, buſs me, I'll be Mrs. Twitcher myſelf.
D--n ye both for a couple of Puritan bitches!
He's Chriſtian enough, that repents, and that --------.