On Signora Domitilla

Our schoolmaster may roar i' th' fit, Of classic beauty, haec et illa; Not all his birch inspires such wit As th'ogling beams of Domitilla.

Let nobles toast, in bright champaign, Nymphs higher born than Domitilla; I'll drink her health, again, again, In Berkeley's tar, or sars'parilla.

At Goodman's Fields I've much admired The postures strange of Monsieur Brilla; But what are they to the soft step, The gliding air of Domitilla?

Virgil has eternized in song The flying footsteps of Camilla; Sure, as a prophet, he was wrong; He might have dream'd of Domitilla.

Great Theodose condemn'd a town For thinking ill of his Placilla: And deuce take London! if some knight O' th' city wed not Domitilla.

Wheeler, Sir George, in travels wise, Gives us a medal of Plantilla; But O! the empress has not eyes, Nor lips, nor breast, like Domitilla.

Not all the wealth of plunder'd Italy, Piled on the mules of king At-tila, Is worth one glove (I'll not tell a bit a lie) Or garter, snatch'd from Domitilla.

Five years a nymph at certain hamlet, Y-cleped Harrow of the Hill, a- --bused much my heart, and was a damn'd let To verse--but now for Domitilla.

Dan Pope consigns Belinda's watch To the fair sylphid Momentilla, And thus I offer up my catch To the snow-white hands of Domitilla.

HELTER SKELTER; OR, THE HUE AND CRY AFTER THE ATTORNEYS UPON THEIR RIDING THE CIRCUIT

Now the active young attorneys Briskly travel on their journeys, Looking big as any giants, On the horses of their clients; Like so many little Marses With their tilters at their a--s, Brazen-hilted, lately burnish'd, And with harness-buckles furnish'd, And with whips and spurs so neat, And with jockey-coats complete, And with boots so very greasy, And with saddles eke so easy, And with bridles fine and gay, Bridles borrow'd for a day, Bridles destined far to roam, Ah! never, never to come home. And with hats so very big, sir, And with powder'd caps and wigs, sir, And with ruffles to be shown, Cambric ruffles not their own; And with Holland shirts so white, Shirts becoming to the sight, Shirts bewrought with different letters, As belonging to their betters. With their pretty tinsel'd boxes, Gotten from their dainty doxies, And with rings so very trim, Lately taken out of lim-- And with very little pence, And as very little sense; With some law, but little justice, Having stolen from my hostess, From the barber and the cutler, Like the soldier from the sutler; From the vintner and the tailor, Like the felon from the jailor; Into this and t'other county, Living on the public bounty; Thorough town and thorough village, All to plunder, all to pillage: Thorough mountains, thorough valleys, Thorough stinking lanes and alleys, Some to--kiss with farmers' spouses, And make merry in their houses; Some to tumble country wenches On their rushy beds and benches; And if they begin a fray, Draw their swords, and----run away; All to murder equity, And to take a double fee; Till the people are all quiet, And forget to broil and riot, Low in pocket, cow'd in courage, Safely glad to sup their porridge, And vacation's over--then, Hey, for London town again.