with Succefs, and to the Tafte of the Times. My Bookfeller alfo, by Way of Confolation, and to lead me out of this Labyrinth, informs me, that he has great Intereft with a Paftry-Cook who lives near him, and that he can help me off with the greatest Part of the Impreffion, if the Paper be of good Subftance. But after all the Opinions of these great People I fhall rely on my own Judgment, which I think preferable to that of any Man; or any Body of Men whatsoever. N. B. This Piece may ferve either as a Dedication or a Preface to any Book whatsoever; and, for the future, fave my Brother Authors a great deal of Trouble. The above was written by our ingenious and truly worthy Friend, Fardinando Foot, Efq; who is about to publish a new and curious Collection of Jefts, Epigrams, Epitaphs, &c. which will do great Honour to the British Nation. The MIDWIFE. Come Dame, light up your Lanthorn, and let us prowl. N OW fie upon feeking honeft Men in or Alley, in all the City, but I have trod, and can hardly meet a Man worthy of giving the Good Morrow to. Why what Rafcals are these? Have they banish'd honeft Men out of the Town quite? Alas, poor Virtue! What haft thou done to deferve this Contempt? Thy Company is out of Request; and thou haft walk'd fo long alone, that thou art even, at laft, walk'd away with thyfelf. There is no Goodness to be found, all is fet upon Villainy. Yonder walks Knavery, Bribery, Cruelty and Extortion, in the Habit of fubftantial honeft Citizens: Perhaps they are of the CommonCouncil; put off your Hat to 'em, Sirrah! Who is this coming? Oh! 'tis the Watchman. Boy, take Care, you had almost beat the poor Man down with your Lanthorn! These are the People that are employ'd to guard the City, to preserve the Peace, and to wage War with the Thieves and Robbers! What What haft thou a Night, good Man, for thy Care? Ninepence I suppose, that is, let me fee, a Penny an Hour for freezing; and if you don't appear in Time, the round O is fix'd on your Name I fuppose, and your Money forfeited to the Common Council Man, is it not hey? And who keeps Watch and Ward the Night you are so discharg❜d, no body? no, we are all bad I find at the Bottom. Boy, fnuff the Candle, and fee who thefe are that lodge themselves on the Bulks, and lay naked at the Shop Doors. Oh! I fee myself now, they are poor Orphans, young helplefs Girls, that have been debauch'd and ruin'd by the Sons, and 'Prentices of the honeft Citizens, and after that turn'd out by their generous and compaffionate Mafters. Or perchance, they are brought to this wretched State, by fome of the righteous Lads of the Temple and Inns of Court. However that may be, it need not affect us Boy. Lay ftill my Heart! Women are not of the Human Species, fo down with them, down with them. Boy, if ever thou livest to be a Man (as in all probability thou wilt, if the Halter don't catch thee foon) do thou, whenever any poor Creatures tumble down, kick them about, 'tis the way of the World Boy, and all muft conform to Cuftom. In this Case you are to imitate the Dogs, who all take a Snap at that Cur, that is calling for Mercy. Hey dey! Here comes Monfieur Flatter-and-Fly, who lofes an Hour in the Morning, and runs after it all Day. He's of the ancient Family of the the Wife Acres. Wou'd you believe it Boy? This very Gentleman spent a good thousand a Year on Elections, in order to make good his Intereft at Court, for a Place of five Hundred; walk along, hollow Head, walk along. Oh forfooth, and why this large Hoop? Good my Lady, let me at least walk in the Kennel, and don't bang me against the Houses on the other Side the Street: Nay, Malapert, you need not be out with me, I methinks have seen as much Virtue without a great Hoop in my Time Madam. What wondrous little Legs the Men have here, I can't fee 'em even with my Lanthorn, and my Spectacles. Look ye now! they carry their Calves to Covent Garden. That's a great Mart for Monkeys, ay marry, and Monsters too. I am fure, many of my poor Miftreffes have been forc'd to lay in without the Help of their Hufbands. Sauce for the Goofe is Sauce for the Gander, they fay. Plough your own Field, Leather Head, and let your Neighbours alone. A Man's own Business is the best Business he can follow. But this Houfe is the Politicians, blow out the Candle Sirrah, the Sight of an honeft Man may frighten you. Take care of your Teeth Varlet, and put your Hands in your Pockets. Good Night Boy. AM AMBITION. An ALLEGORY. HILEMON lived in the midst of a Fo fretful Inquietude, Remorfe and Grief kept a respectful Distance, nor dar'd to approach within his Retreat; Ambition only flatter'd herself with Hopes of being introduced. Philemon, favour'd of the Gods, offered them pure Victims: A Lamb, and a Ram, which he facrificed by Turns, attefted the Gratitude he felt for their unlimited Goodnefs. The Earth, fubmiffive to his Labour, produced in Abundance whatever was neceffary for his Subfiftence. He fled from Cities, and never repair'd thither but to exchange Fruit for the Grain when he wanted to fow a Field that was cultivated by his Labour. After thefe Excurfions his Cot was dearer to him than before. The Ebony, Gold, and Ivory, deftin'd to embellifh the Palaces of the Great, 'did not difplay their Magnificence in the Habitation of our Philofopher. Nature had been at the whole Expence in furnishing his Moveables, and had provided for his Defence. A double Row of Trees concealed his Retreat from the Eye of the Traveller. A clear Rivulet ran murmuring to bring him its Waves, and forming many Meanders, lengthen'd its Stay in this delightful Place. Philemon drank of its Streams; with them he water'd his Flowers; and from an Arbour in which he was accuftom'd to give a Loofe to |