THE
Saint turnd Curtezan:
OR,
A New PLOT discoverd by a precious Zealot, of an Assault and
Battery designd upon the Body of a Sanctifyd Sister, etc.
Who in her Husbands absence, with a Brother
Did often use to comfort one another;
Till wide-mouthd Crop, who is an old Italian,
Took his Mare napping, and surprizd her Stallion:
Who stead of Entertainment from his Mistris,
Did meet a Cudgelling not matchd in Histries.
To the Tune of the Quakers Ballad: or, All in the Land of Essex.
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ALL in the Zealous City,
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Near the Exchange so Royal,
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In dead of Night
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Appeard such a Sprite,
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Woud make a Saint disloyal.
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Help Care, Vile, Smith, and Curtis,
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Each pious Covenanter,
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Now alas what hope
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Of converting the Pope,
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When a Sister turns a Ranter?
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A precious Goose-quill Brother,
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Joynd with a Holy Sister,
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In place of Mate
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To propagate
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The Holy Seed, he kissd her.
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Help, etc.
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About the time of Midnight,
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When th Saints are Caterwauling,
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The Youngster came
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To cherish the Dame,
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While the Cuckold was a stroleing.
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Help, etc.
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For while her Factious Gaol-bird,
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That Type of Reformation,
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Lay close by the heels,
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The slippery Eels
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Lay in close Copulation.
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Help Care, Vile, Smith, and Curtis,
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Each pious Covenanter,
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What hopes have we got
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To defeat the Sham-Plot,
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If a Sister turns a Ranter?
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But as the Devil woud have it,
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The Devil of Lust and Malice,
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That night he broke Gaol,
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And boggld her Tail;
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She wishd him at the Gallows.
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Help Care, Vile, Smith, and Curtis,
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Each zealous Covenanter,
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What hopes have we got
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To defeat the Sham-Plot,
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If a Sister turns a Ranter?
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For at the usual hour,
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In comes the Clerk oth Quorum;
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Where to spoil the Plot,
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The Devil had got
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Possession long before him.
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Help, etc.
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My fairest Helen open,
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Heres thy own loving Paris:
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Get away from my door,
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You Son of a whore,
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For heres th old Cuckold Harris.
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Help, etc.
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Then damn the Factious Lubber,
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To spoil our Recreation:
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Quoth Harris, whats there?
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Tis nothing, my Dear,
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But the Spirit of Revelation.
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Help Care, Vile, Smith, and Curtis,
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Each zealous Covenanter,
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Who woud credit Ben. Took,
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Tho he swore on a Book,
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That a Saint should turn a Ranter?
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Old
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The Second Part.
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Old Ben who much suspected
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Twas more then a bare Vision,
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Began for to peep,
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And slept Dog-sleep,
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Till he found the Apparition.
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Help, etc.
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The Covenanting Brother,
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According to Indenture,
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With Ink in Pen
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Came there agen
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Next Night, but could not enter.
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Help, etc.
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He knockt beneath the window,
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What can you sleep so soundly?
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Open, my Dear:
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Quoth Ben, are you there?
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Ile handle you profoundly.
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Help, etc.
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In Gown of Wife, and Slippers,
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While she lay in a slumber,
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Perplexd with cares,
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He crept down Stairs,
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Armd with good Cudgel Lumber.
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Help, etc.
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Whos there? quoth watchful Argus:
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Tis I in longing passion,
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Give me a kiss:
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Quoth Ben, take this,
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A Drydens Salutation.
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Help Care, Vile, Smith, and Curtis,
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Each zealous Covenanter,
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What wonder the Atheist
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L--------- should turn Papist,
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When a Zealot turns a Ranter?
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What means this strangeness, Madam?
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I mean to cool your Courage:
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Take this, you Rogue,
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Ile send you, Dog,
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To hunt for other Forrage.
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Help, etc.
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The Wife scard in the Buzzle,
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My Dear, what is the matter?
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Youre a Whore, quoth he,
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You are, quoth she,
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A Villain and a Traytor.
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Help, etc.
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Ile have thee scourgd by Baxter,
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Quoth he, at the next Lecture,
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For prostrating
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To any thing
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Beneath a Lord Protector.
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Help, etc.
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Quoth she, Ile have thee Quarterd,
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Thou Scribbling Factious Felon,
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For publishing
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Against the King
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Sedition and Rebellion.
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Help Care, Vile, Smith, and Curtis,
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All pious Covenanters,
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What hopes have we got
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To defeat the Sham-Plot,
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When a Sister turns a Ranter?
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Have I, quoth he, escaped
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The Pillory and Committal,
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The Gallows and
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The Laws oth Land,
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To be proclaimd a Wittal?
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Help, etc.
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What will the Bloudy Plotters
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Say of a Holy Brother,
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When we our selves
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Lay Traps and Shelves
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To Counterplot each other?
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Help, etc.
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But now for an Expedient,
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Left they should us bespatter,
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Wel say the Sparks
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A Popish Shark,
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And that will salve the matter.
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Help, etc.
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Wel say he was a Papist
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L------ had sent to Fire us;
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So thou art clear,
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My dearest Dear,
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And the Saints will still admire us.
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Help Care, Vile, Smith, and Curtis,
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And each true Covenanter,
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What hopes have we got
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To defeat the Sham-Plot,
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If a Sister turns a Ranter?
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