Our website is made possible by displaying online advertisements to our visitors.
Please consider supporting us by disabling your ad blocker.

Download links will be available after you disable the ad blocker and reload the page.

Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy, Vol. 5 of 6

Download options:

  • 5.93 MB
  • 18.16 MB



By Sir John Burtonhead.



LL Christians and Lay-Elders too,For Shame amend your Lives;I’ll tell you of a Dog-trick now,Which much concerns you Wives:An Elder’s Maid near Temple-Bar,(Ah! what a Quean was she?)Did take an ugly Mastiff Cur,Where Christians use to be.Help House of Commons, House of Peers,Oh now or never help!Th’ Assembly hath not sat Four Years,Yet hath brought forth a Whelp.One Evening late she stept aside,Pretending to fetch Eggs;And there she made her self a Bride,To one that had four Legs:Her Master heard a Rumblement,And wonder she did tarry;Not dreaming (without his consent)His Dog would ever Marry.Help House of Commons, &c.He went to peep, but was afraid,And hastily did run,To fetch a Staff to help his Maid,Not knowing what was done:He took his Ruling Elders Cane,And cry’d out help, help, here;For Swash our Mastiff, and poor Jane,Are now fight Dog, fight Bear.Help House of Commons, &c.But when he came he was full sorry,For he perceiv’d their Strife;That according to the Directory,They Two were Dog and Wife:Ah! (then said he) thou cruel Quean,Why hast thou me beguil’d?I wonder Swash was grown so lean,Poor Dog he’s almost spoil’d.Help House of Commons, &c.I thought thou hadst no Carnal Sense,But what’s in our Lasses:And could have quench’d thy Cupiscence,According to the Classes:But all the Parish see it plain,Since thou art in this pickle;Thou art an Independent Quean,And lov’st a Conventicle.Help House of Commons, &c.Alas now each Malignant Rogue,Will all the World perswade;That she that’s Spouse unto a Dog,May be an Elder’s Maid:They’ll jeer us if abroad we stir,Good Master Elder stay;Sir, of what Classis is your Cur?And then what can we say?Help House of Commons, &c.They’ll many graceless Ballads sing,Of a Presbyterian;That a Lay Elder is a thingMade up half Dog, half Man:Out, out, said he, (and smote her down)Was Mankind grown so scant?There’s scarce another Dog in Town,Had took the Covenant.Help House of Commons, &c.Then Swash began to look full grim,And Jane did thus reply;Sir, you thought nought too good for him,You fed your Dog too high:’Tis true he took me in the lurch,And leap’d into my Arms;But (as I hope to come at Church)I did your Dog no harm.Help House of Commons, &c.Then she was brought to Newgate Gaol,And there was Naked stripp’d;They whipp’d her till the Cords did fail,As Dogs us’d to be whipp’d:Poor City Maids shed many a Tear,When she was lash’d and bang’d;And had she been a Cavalier,Surely she had been hang’d.Help House of Commons, &c.Hers was but Fornication found,For which she felt the Lash:But his was Bugg’ry presum’d,Therefore they hanged Swash:What will become of Bishops then,Or Independency?For now we find both Dogs and Men,Stand up for Presbytry.Help House of Commons, &c.She might have took a Sow-gelder,With Synod-men good store,But she would have a Lay-Elder,With Two Legs and Two more:Go tell the Assembly of Divines,Tell Adoniram blue;Tell Burgess, Marshall, Case and Vines,Tell Now-and-Anon too....