THE
Fantastical Prodigal.
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ON a time I was great, now little Im grown,
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A mimick of MULTUM IN PARVO;
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Im buryd alive in a cloister of stone,
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Some say it is what I deserve O.
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In what they say there is something of truth,
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I have been a wild and extravagant youth,
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Some hundreds I have spent on Rachel and Ruth,
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But now I have got into Limbo.
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The song that I sing is absolute true
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Then mark well my woeful condition,
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It is of myself (Give the devil his due)
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I hope it may make an impression
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On the heart of all Prodigal beaus;
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For friend, let me tell you under the Rose,
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Those whom you feasted will be your worse foes,
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If ever you get into Limbo.
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My Father and Mother tis very well known,
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They left me abundance of riches,
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But I was so wild and extravagant grown,
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That I daily furnishd my breeches
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With guineas, and then to the tavern Id stray,
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As fine as a fool, or a fop at a play,
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I thought in my heart it would never be day,
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Till now I am got into Limbo.
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My Father he left me five hundred a year,
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My Mother she left me her jointure;
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And every acre from mortgage was clear,
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But I was for bottle and pint, sir:
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So field after field to market I sent,
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My lands was morgaged and money I spent,
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My heart was hardend it would not relent,
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Until I got into Limbo.
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My goods with abundance of old fashiond plan,
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In short I sent packing together,
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And set myself up in a pageant of state,
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With my powderd wig, hat, and feather,
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With hounds, hawks, and whores making my brags,
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I rambled about till I emptied my bags,
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So all my gay cloathing was turned to rags,
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And now Im fast-locked in Limbo.
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I used to vaunt as if I would fly,
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And strut like a crow in a Gutter;
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The people would cry as I did pass by,
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There goes Sir Fopling Flutter:
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Then top and top-gallant I hoisted my sails,
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With fringed cravat and wig of two tails:
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But now I am ready to gnaw my own nails,
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Confind to my chamber in Limbo.
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My time and my money I woefully spent,
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On furbelowd Ladies of pleasure;
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The cunning young gypsies would sit and invent,
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Which way for to squander my treasure.
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Watever they asked I would presently get,
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Rich garments or dainties my palates to fit,
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Thus made a mere fool of an absolute wit,
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But now I have got into Limbo.
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I once kept a brace of as delicate Jades
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As ever brought Ninepence to Nothing;
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My credit I morgagd to several trades,
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To keep them in meat, drink, and cloathing.
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The goldsmith for Jewels, lockets, and rings,
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And others for laces, and rich bridle-strings,
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I pleasurd my doxies with fifty fine things,
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For which I have got into Limbo.
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