The London Lottery:
OR,
Simple SUSAN, the Ambitious Damsel of Bishopsgate-street,
Who pawn'd her Night-rail and Smock, with other Apparel, for raising Money, in hopes to gain the Lot of three
thousand Pound, or two thousand five hunder'd at least; with an Account of her Glory that ended in a
Blank.
To the Tune of, If Love's a Sweet Passion.
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ATtend to this Ditty, which fairly does treat
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Of a Damsel now living, near Bishopsgate-street,
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Who did lay her best Gown and her Smicket in pawn,
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With her Nigh-rail, and likewise her Ruffels of Lawn,
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For to raise Half-a piece, to put in for a Lot,
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Since she heard there was three thousand Pounds to be got.
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If I can obtain it, she often reply'd,
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I will leave off my Service, and near to Cheap-side
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Will go take me a Lodging, and lead a sweet Life,
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Such a Portion will make me an Alderman's Wife.
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In my noble adventure good Fortune be kind,
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For the three thousand Pounds does run still in my mind.
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Am I not both youthful, strait, proper and tall?
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Now when I have a swinging large Portion withal,
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I shall soon get a Husband, I make no great doubt,
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For the noise of my Money will be blaz'd about:
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Therefore when I recover the three thousand Pound,
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Then my Glory through London's fair Streets will abound.
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Then to an old Conjurer's streight she did go,
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For to learn whether she might obtain it or no;
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Then a Shilling she gave him, there with a good will,
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And besought him to manage the best of his skill:
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For the three thousand Pounds she was willing to have,
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That she might be a Lady rich, gallant and brave.
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He told her the three thousand Pounds was ordain'd
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For another, and therefore could not be obtain'd;
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But if two thousand Pounds and five hundred will do,
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Pretty Lass, I'll engage to secure it for you,
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If you can be contented with such a low Prize.
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Since the others dispos'd on, Sir, that must suffice.
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This said, to her Mistress she presently high'd,
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Where she bid her with speed a new Servant provide,
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For she would be no longer a Drudge and a Slave,
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Being fully peswaded that now she should have
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Here a vast Sum of Money, both Silver and Gold,
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Many hundred Pounds more than her Apron could hold.
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Her Mistress, not knowing what run in her mind,
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She began to discourse her, in order to find
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What might be the just Reason that Susan would go;
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'Twas a folly to argue, for it must be so:
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Susan crying out still, I must bid you adieu,
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For I hope I'm a far better Woman than you.
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So far on the Fortune-man's words she rely'd,
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That she reckn'd e're long she through London should ride
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In a Coach with six Horses and Footmen likewise;
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Which was all to be gain'd by this rich Golden Prize:
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But at length came a Blank, which did pull her Pride down
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And she now is the Laughter and Scorn of the Town.
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Poor Susan is now in a sorrowful case,
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For her Cloaths are in Pawn, aye, and she's out of Place;
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And the rich guilded Coach, which so run in her mind,
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It is fled like I Cloud that's disperst with the Wind.
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Now you Lasses of London, pray never presume,
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For the three thousand Pounds, lest her Lot be your doom.
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FINIS.
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