TO A GENTLEMAN, THAT HAD HIS POCKET PICKT
OF A WATCH AND SOME GOLD BY A MISTRESS
by: George Farquhar (1677-1707)
POEMS BY GEORGE FARQUHAR
- 'M sorry,
Sam, thour't such a Ninny
- To Let a Wench rob thee of Guinea,
- And thus to spend and lose your Cobbs,
- By lavish opening both your Fobbs:
- You're fairly fobb'd, to let her get all,
- Both one, and also t'other Mettal.
- Your Work was on a pretty Score,
- You dug the Mine, she found the Oar;
- The Devil take the cunning Whore.
- You slily laid her down to rest her,
- And on the Bed she found a Tester.
- Your Watch too, Sam, (these Men of Power
- Must lye with Doxies by the Hour)
- A Minute's time did that command;
- Then her's, it seems, was Minute Hand.
- She wound you up to her own liking,
- Then stole the Watch, while you were striking:
- Then think not, Sir, that you are undone:
- What's wound so high, must next be run down:
- In revelling time you thought no Sin,
- To play a Game, at In and In.
- I wonder tho' you did not win for't,
- Since that you were so fairly in for't:
- But what destroy'd you in a Trice,
- She held the Box, you shook the Dice:
- The Devil was in the Dice then surely,
- To loose when you plaid so securely,
- And three to one was lay'd so purely.
- But what's the worst of all Mishaps
- You dread, they say, some After-claps:
- If that be so, my dearest Sammy,
- You'll curse, and bid the Devil dam ye:
- The Fruit of Wild Oats which you scatter,
- Is nothing else but Barley-Water:
- The Seed-time's good, you know my meaning,
- But Faith, the Harvest's only gleaning.
- Take Heart howe're, 'tis my desire,
- You will revive, the P--x expire;
- Then rise like Phoenix
from the Fire.
- The Mettal's stronger that's well souder'd,
- And Beef keeps sweeter once 'tis powder'd.
- So farewell, Sam, and my you ne're want
- Such a true faithful humble Servant.