A Poem on the new wells at Islington This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A55258 of text R33472 in the English Short Title Catalog. Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 4KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 2 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A55258 Wing P2702 ESTC R33472 ocm 13367487

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 Early English books online text creation partnership. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A55258) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 99280) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1554:9) A Poem on the new wells at Islington 1 sheet ( [2] p. ) Printed by George Croom ..., London : 1684. In verse. Caption title. Imprint from colophon. Reproduction of original in the Harvard University Library.

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 eng eebo A Poem on the new wells at Islington n/a 1684 2 591 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2014-06 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2014-08 Sampled and proofread 2014-08 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2015-03 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
A POEM On the new WELLS AT ISLINGTON . BEtimes i' th Morn I Rose up 'tother Day , When fair Aurora did her Beams display ; And Glittering Phaebus from his drowsie Bed , With cheerful Light the Fields did overspread : At Islington to the new Wells I came , Which are of late renown'd with so much Fame : I Entred , and I wonder'd to Behold Such a great Company in such a Fold . Here Ladies Fine and Gay were sipping up , One was the third , 'tother the second Cup . Tag , Rag , and Bobtail , there were drinking too ; Waters more fit than Wine for such a Crew . Ladies and Butchers Wives you there might see , Bulkers and Whores , higgle de pigle de . Some drink the Waters to promote Child-bearing , Others to keep the Body in good wearing : Green-sickness Girls , they in whole Troops do come , To wash a way the Dirt they 've eat at Home : Others to Purge away unlawful Issues , Come in their Silks , their Sattins , and their Tissues . Some Pockey Courses to these Wells do come , That have not Mercury to Flux at Home : Or if they had , 't is here they meet : Gallants You must not think that all that come are Saints . The Waters too breed Stomach's to their Meat ; I fear some of 'em have not Bread to Eat . Here you may see a Spewing by your side , A City Coxcomb by his Country Bride . How does your Waters pass to Day ? says Jenny , I 've drank six Pints that are well worth a Guiney ; They come so freely from me , and so Cool , I Vow to you this is the seventh Stool . With this Discourse they pass'd away the time , And wash away their nastty Filth and Slime . By a mischance I fell into a Trap , 'T was my Misfortune , and my great Mishap To wander in the Womens walk , where none Are sufferr'd for to walk but they alone ; I was no sooner entred but they fell A Hooting at me like the Devil in Hell : Never was Man so bawl'd at by such Curs , Nor Dogs Bark more at Beasts in Lyons Furs . There is a Lady there , as People say , That takes but eight long Hours in every Day , To part her Eye-brows , and put on false Hair , And thinks her self most wonderfully Fair : If once you saw her , she wou'd make you more , Than Dire Maegera's snaky Locks abhor . Physicians say this Water is most rare ; Turnbridge and Epsom , are not to Compare . Now are there then so many Cuckolds made , Cuckoldom now is almost grown a Trade . So many undertakers that 't is grown A meer Monopoly to walk upon : We shall at last have every Pond a Well , 'T was so in Ancient Dayes , as Stories tell . Instead of Wine this Water let 's Carouse , Our Grandame Eve had never other Bouse : Let us no more with Wine be Drunken Sots , But ever stick unto our Water-Pots .

LONDON , Printed by George Croom , at the Blue-Ball in Thames-street , over against Baynard's Castle , 1684.