Upon the ROYSTON BARGAIN, or ALEHOUSE WEDDING; i. e. the Marriage of Mr. CHARLES CAESAR to Miss LONG, October…

Ye fathers and mothers, Ye sisters and brothers, That have a rich heiress in guard, I'll tell you a tale, If you mind, it won't fail To preserve in all safety your ward.

Ne'er keep her at Hammel's, In traces and trammels, Nor think an old man and his cat, Are company fit For a girl that has wit, And is eager to know what is what.

She's too frolick and gay, To be tempted to stay The return of a fiddling son; She won't feed on song, For her name is Miss Long, And her business in short must be done.

While Ralph and his spouse Were employ'd in the house, With Wiseman, their chief secretary; Away went the gay thing In search of a plaything, And so she began the vagary.

Quoth he then to his wife, I'll venture my life She's gone to the alehouse at Munden: And who can be there, As I honour small beer, But Caesar aut nullus from London!

I've told you, dear Ralph, If you'd keep that girl safe, Ne'er trust her alone with Miss Cremer; And as for Miss Jenning, Her ways are so winning, She'll make her as gallant a schemer.

Just as she had said, Came in the poor maid, With message and face most importune; That Caesar with forces, And coach and six horses, Had stolen away their great fortune.

You see, you old fool, You are made a mere tool, And dup'd by Caesar and your sister; You thought the girl safe, By the care of son Ralph, But the booby crack'd walnuts, and mist her.

Then out went the scouts, To the towns thereabouts, In hopes to have luckily found them; But Saygrace, the parson, Had carry'd the farce on, And in cottage had just before bound them.

And then from her bed, Having lost maidenhead In the joyous and amorous strife, She cry'd, hang your master, I've felt no disaster In passing from maiden to wife.

And now turn your face To Benington Place, And see with what joy this is taken; Where madam does chatter To all that come at her, And cries, we have now sav'd our bacon,

Now my foes I despise, And my grotto shall rise, Tho' some folks may call it my folly; And when all is sold, The rest shall be told 'Twixt Julius, Betty, and Molly.