e Publisher.

THE

MERRY-THOUGHT.

PART II.

INTRODUCTION.

You will pardon the Editor that he does not put Things better in Order;
but he is so engaged in reading the Letters sent him in from the two
Universities, after the Publication of the First Part, that he believes
the Preface is in the Middle of the Book; but I dare swear you'll find
it somewhere or other, and so read on.

_In _Trinity-College_ Bogs._

Ye _Cantabs_ mind when ye are sh - - t - - ng,
How nearly 'tis allied to Writing.
----To Writing, say you? ----pray how so?
An uncouth Simile, I trow.

----Hold, pray ---- Condemn it not untry'd;
Hear only how it is apply'd.

As learned _Johnian_ wracks his Brain----
Thinks, ----hems, ----looks wise, ----then thinks again;----
When all this Preparation's done,
The mighty Product is ---- a Pun.

So some with direful strange Grimaces,
Within this Dome distort their Faces;
Strain, ----squeeze, ----yet loth for to depart,
Again they strain--for what? a Fart.

Hence _Cantabs_ take this moral Trite,
'Gainst Nature, if ye think or sh - - te;
Use all the Labour, all the Art,
'Twill ne'er exceed a Pun, or Fart.

_Red-Lion, Egham._

Coquets will always merry prove; }
But Prudes are those _give down their love_; }
And love and move, and move to love. }

_Underwritten._

A Prude for my Money, by G - - d.

T. S. 1711.

_Written on the Looking-Glass of Mr. T - - p - - n,
Fellow-Commoner of Trinity-College, Cambridge._

_Imago in Speculo loquitur ad T - - p - - n._

I.

Thou pretty little fluttering Thing,
That mak'st this gaudy Shew;
Thou senseless Mimick of a Man,
Thou Being, call'd a Beau.

II.

Like me thou art an empty Form,
Like me alone, thou'rt made;
Like me delusive seem'st a Man,
But only art a Shade.

_Tuns in Cambridge, Window facing a certain Alderman's in the Market._

Is _Molly Fr----_ immortal? ----No.
She is; and I will prove her so.
She's fifteen now, and was, I know,
Fifteen, full fifteen Years ago.

_Underwritten._

The Fates from Heaven late came Post;
And thus address'd this _Cambridge_ Toast.

Say happy Maid that can detain
Old hoary Time in fetter'd Chain,
What wouldst thou have to set him free,
And give thy captive Liberty?

Miss _Molly_ call'd Mamma aside,
---- Whisper'd awhile, then thus reply'd