THE
Westminster Wedding:
Or, Trick for Trick.
When Rogues and Whores together meet,
'tis pitty they should parted be,
But taste the bitter with the sweet,
which still attends such Company.
Tune is, The Winchester Wedding.
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AT Westminster was such a Match,
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the like was never known,
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A Whore that was painted and patch'd,
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did meet with a French-man alone:
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The French-man was wofully Clapt,
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and so was the Whore also,
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He askt if she ever was Tap'd,
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but still she made answer no:
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The French-man then needs would be doing
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supposing himself for to ease,
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At last by his amorous Wooing,
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he added unto his Disease.
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He joy'd that so soon he had won her,
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to grant him his hearts desire,
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And when he had stoutly done her,
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she set all his Rigging on fire:
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The French-man began for to mutter
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and fear'd she had serv'd him a trick,
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For he found himself hotter and hotter,
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and wisht she had been at Old Nick:
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When he first began for to dally,
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tho' 'twas with a wicked intent,
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But yet this same Brazen fac'd Molly,
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did little conceive what he meant.
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But finding himself out of order,
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he swore by gar she should dye,
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Before she went any further,
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for with heat he began for to fry:
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And she was as notably pepper'd,
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to torture her it did begin,
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She spotted was like to a Leopard,
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from the sole of the foot to the Chin:
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At which he did seem to be pleased,
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and could not but laugh in his mind,
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Tho' he was as strangely diseased,
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as you by the sequel shall find.
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He told her that she was a Whore,
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to play such a damnable trick,
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She told him she knew that before,
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and then bid a pox of his P------
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For you like a Rogue have beguil'd me,
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I partly do now understand,
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But cannot well say you have spoyl'd me,
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because I was spoyl'd to your hand:
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But yet I must tell you Monsieur,
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you nought by the bargain have got,
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And I think it will cost you full dear,
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for meddling with my merry Spot.
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A pox of your merry Spot then,
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the French-man aloud he did cry,
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'Tis enough for to spoyl twenty men,
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that have no more forecast than I:
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But yet I believe you will find,
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your self in a pickled condition,
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At Kingsland some help you may find,
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if you draw up a handsome Petition:
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You must to the Hospital go,
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if ever you mean to be Cur'd,
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For 'tis such a torment I know,
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that well it cannot be endur'd.
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Was ever poor French-man so serv'd,
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the Monsieur began for to cry,
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But yet he said he did deserve it,
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that with common Bitches would lye:
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But I do resolve for the future,
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no flattering Jades to believe,
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Experience it is the best Tutor,
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who tells me that Whores will deceive:
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But yet I am well enough serv'd,
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that had an intent for to spoyl her,
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And 'tis not a plague undeserv'd,
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because I did think to beguile her.
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And since such a trick she hath shown me,
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I think I had best to be friends,
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If she for a Husband will own me,
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i'le Wed her and make her amends,
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A Rogue and a Whore met together,
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'tis pitty they ever should part,
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For 'tis forty to one if that either,
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be loyal and true in the heart:
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So to her he told his intent,
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how he was dispos'd her to Marry,
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Away to the Church then they went,
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for neither was willing to tarry.
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And thus have you heard of a Wedding,
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where pockified couple did Wed,
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And there was no need of a Leading
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this Rogue and his Whore to the Be[d]
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I wish this may be a fair warning,
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to English as well as to French,
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That they e'ry day may be learning
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to dispise a bold impudent Wench:
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He thought at the first to deceive her,
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and so to leave her in the lurch,
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But he had not power to leave her,
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so both were conjoyn'd in the Church.
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