March was ever madder;
In vain I search'd for my Apparel,
And did with Oast and Servants Quarrel;
For one whose Mind did much aspire
To (z) Mischief, threw them in the Fire:
     Equipt with neither Hat nor Shooe,
     I did my coming hither rue,
     And doubtful thought what I should do:
Then looking round, I saw my Friend
Lie naked on a Table's end;
A sight so dismal to behold,
One wou'd have judg'd him dead and cold,
When wringing of his bloody Nose,
By fighting got we may suppose;
I found him not so fast asleep,
Might give his friends a cause to weep:
Rise (aa) Oronooko, rise said I,
And from this Hell and Bedlam fly.
My Guide starts up, and in amaze,
With blood-shot Eyes did round him gaze;
At length with many a sigh and groan,
He went in search of aged Rhoan;
But Rhoan, tho' seldom us'd to faulter,
Had fairly this time slipt his Halter;
And not content all Night to stay
Ty'd up from Fodder, ran away:
After my Guide to ketch him ran,
And so I lost both Horse and Man:
Which Disappointment tho' so great,
Did only Mirth and Jests create:
Till one more Civil than the rest,
In Conversation for the best,
Observing that for want of Rhoan,
I should be left to walk alone;
Most readily did me intreat,
To take a Bottle at his Seat;
A Favour at that time so great,
I blest my kind propitious Fate;
And finding soon a fresh supply,
Of Cloaths from Stoar-house kept hard by,
I mounted streight on such a Steed,
Did rather curb, than whipping need;
     And straining at the usual rate,
     With spur of Punch which lay in Pate,
     E'er long we lighted at the Gate:
Where in an antient Cedar House,
Dwelt my new Friend a (bb) Cockerouse;
Whose Fabrick tho' 'twas built of Wood,
Had many Springs and Winters stood;
When sturdy Oaks, and lofty Pines
Were level'd with (cc) Musmillion Vines,
And Plants eradicated were,
By Hurricanes into the air;
There with good Punch and Apple Juice,
We spent our Hours without abuse;
Till Midnight in her sable Vest,
Persuaded Gods and Men to rest;
And with a pleasing kind surprize,
Indulg'd soft Slumbers to my Eyes.
Fierce (dd) Æthon courser of the Sun,
Had half his Race exactly run;
     And breath'd on me a fiery Ray,
     Darting hot Beams the following Day,
     When snug in Blanket white I lay:
But Heat and (ee) Chinces rais'd the Sinner,
Most opportunely to his Dinner;
     Wild Fowl and Fish delicious Meats,
     As good as Neptune's doxy eats,
     Began our Hospitable Treat;
Fat Venson follow'd in the Rear,
And Turkies wild (ff) Luxurious Chear:
But what the Feast did most commend,
Was hearty welcom from my Friend.
Thus having made a noble Feast,
And eat as well as pamper'd Priest,
Madera strong in flowing Bowls,
Fill'd with extream delight our Souls;
Till wearied with a purple Flood,
Of generous Wine (the Giant's blood,
As Poets feign) away I made,
For some refreshing verdant Shade;
Where musing on my Rambles strange,
And Fortune which so oft did change;
In midst of various Contemplations
Of Fancies odd, and Meditations,
I slumbered long————————
Till hazy Night with noxious Dews
Did sleep's unwholsom Fetters lose;
With Vapors chil'd, and misty air,
To fire-side I did repair;
Near which a jolly Female Crew,
Were deep engag'd at Lanctre-Looe;
In Night-rails white, with dirty Mein,
Such Sights are scarce in England seen:
I thought them first some Witches bent,
On Black Designs in dire Convent.
Till one who with affected air,
Had nicely learn'd to Curse and Swear;
Cry'd Dealing's lost is but a Flam,
And vow'd by G——d she'd keep her Pam.
When dealing through the board had run,
They ask'd me kindly to make one;
Not staying often to be bid,
I sat me down as others did;
We scarce had play'd a Round about,
But that these Indian Froes fell out.
D——m you, says one, tho' now so brave,
I knew you late a Four-Years Slave;
What if for Planter's Wife you go,
Nature designed you for the Hoe.
Rot you replies the other streight,
The Captain kiss'd you for his Freight;
And if the Truth was known aright,
And how you walk'd the Streets by night
You'd blush (if one cou'd blush) for shame,
Who from Bridewell or New gate came:
From Words they fairly fell to Blows,
And being loath to interpose,
Or meddle in the Wars of Punk,
Away to Bed in hast I slunk.
Waking next day, with aking Head,
And Thirst, that made me quit my Bed;
I rigg'd myself, and soon got up,
To cool my Liver with a Cup
Of (gg) Succahana fresh and clear,
Not half so good as English Beer;
Which ready stood in Kitchin Pail,
And was in fact but Adam's Ale;
For Planter's Cellars you must know,
Seldom with good October flow,
But Perry Quince and Apple Juice,
Spout from the Tap like any Sluce;
Untill the Cask's grown low and stale,
They're forc'd again to (hh) Goud and Pail:
The soathing drought scarce down my Throat,
Enough to put a ship afloat,
With Cockerouse as I was sitting,
I felt a Feaver Intermitting;
A fiery Pulse beat in my Veins,
From Cold I felt resembling Pains:
This cursed seasoning I remember,
Lasted from March to cold December;
Nor would it then its Quarters shift
Until by Cardus turn'd adrift,
And had my Doctress wanted skill,
Or Kitchin Physick at her will,
My Father's Son had lost his Lands,
And never seen the Goodwin Sands:
But thanks to Fortune and a Nurse
Whose Care depended on my Purse,
I saw myself in good Condition,
Without the help of a Physitian:
At