Diluvium lachrymarum a review of the fortunate & unfortunate adventurers : a satyr in burlesque, upon the famous lottery, set up in Freeman's-yard in Corn-hill.

A REVIEW OF THE Fortunate and Unfortunate , &c. IN Freemans-Yard , the Heart of City , The Scene of our ensuing Ditty , Was late set up a Lott'ry Famous , To please some Wise , some Ignoramus . By dint of wondrous Expectation , That sweetest mortal Titillation , No less than Fifty Thousand Tools , A jolly Crew of gaping Fools ; Of all Degrees , and of all Ages , Up from young Fops to grave old Sages ; All Compounds too , or Course or Gay , That e're were made of Adams Clay ; Diana , Venus , Fair or Fowl , And Jug and Madam , Cheeg by Joule ; Ermine and Vermine , Rags and Scarlets , Promiscuous all , both Lords and Varlets , Citts Sons , and the Court Sires that got em ; All Merchant-Venturers in one Bottom . The old Ark ne're was better fill'd , That clean , unclean , all Cattle held : 't was here all Voices , strong or Feeble , All Tongues , all Pipes from Base to Trebble , Roarers or Wheesers , Squeakers , Grunters ; Joyn'd in full Cry for Fortune-Hunters . Our Theatre this Pride may Vapor , 't was once a School for Jigg and Caper : Fit Scene our Fortunes Stage t' advance ; For all that Win , I am sure , may Dance . Here on erected Council-Board , Like Bessus's Brothers of the Sword , Sit the grand Oracles to disjoynt The Blank , Prize , soft or knotty point . Rank'd by Groom-Porter Mussulman , The Muf●i of this great Divan ; With Hospital sweet Youths up-lifted , Young Lambs with Innocence well gifted ; Who little Ganymedes sit ready ; Fit hands to hold our Scales more steddy . But , ●'re we come to th' grand Decision , First let 's prepare for dazling Vision . Up in a proud Balcone above , The Orb of Beauty and of Love , Behold a Gaudy Troop Divine , In glorious Constellation Shine ; Stars with their several Beams indu'd , Of First or Second Magnitude . Nor come they here , so Blithe and Gay , With killing Eyes to wound and slay , Their common work of every Day ; No , they have more important matters , Not only idle bare Spectators , But Int'ress'd-parties : not to wrong 'em ; Whole hundred watring mouths among 'em ; Fair Rivals all for the great Prize , The Sexes Darling , Bulk and size : Like the fair Candidates of Old For Paris glitt'ring Ball of Gold . And well their flatt'ring hopes they build : For what 'gainst Beauties Charms can sheild ? Our Deity is not so blind , But to that Sex she must be kind . Here a young Beauty weary grown Of Charriot and Two Steeds alone ; Both home-bred Palfreys too , course Ware , Too poor to bear a load so fair ; A prouder Rich Great Coach to fix , Wants thousands Three for Flanders Six . Another Maiden Dame , most Trim , With Oyle in Virgin Lamp full Brim , To have and hold for Charms t' invite , And wed an honest Brawny Knight ; Wants just that Sum her Lamp to light . A Third of Constitution tender , Of the same melting Female Gender , In Purse and Beauty somewhat low , Wants that Sum too , to keep a Beau . A bouncing City Dame stood by , And vow'd , with turn'd up white of Eye , Were the Lot hers , how fine , dear Joy , She 'll dress her Eldest prentice Boy ; Buy him a galloping Pad-nag Scowrer , To ride to Epsome down before her . Another Buxom City Matron , Who for a Boy had taken Pattern From Nerve and Brawn to help her need , And mend her spiny City Breed ; If Fortune her dear Lot would Crown , Her Spark at 'tother end of Town , ( By Venus and by Mars she swore ) Dear Rogue , should trayl a Pike no more . No ; by her troth , whate're it cost , She 'll mount him to a higher Post . But oh , what tickling hopes she 's wrapt in , To see Lot rise to make a Captain . From the Balcone you might behold ye , The Region of the Fair , I told ye , A Philde Chambre ogle down , Perkt in her Ladies cast-off Gown . Oh , if the great Prize would but hit her , Lord ! what a Husband she should get her : No less than Squire , her Masters Son , A Conquest that her Charms have won : In Love's soft Chains she has him fast ; For oh , what amorous looks he ' has cast ; Has kist her twenty times and more , And stroak'd her Bubbies half a score . A Country Girl that stood below , To the same Tune her sighs let flow ; Oh help me to a lumping Prize , To shine in my dear Dicky's Eyes : Without the Pence , alas poor Nan , I fear thou 'lt dye , and ne're taste Man . Amongst the wishing longing Fair , Some at their first , some their last Prayer , Whether for Husband or for Spark , Still that dear Creature Man's the Mark : So went for Three fair Thousand pound The soft Ejaculations round . Nor do the Witty , Young , and Fair , Joyn only in the general Prayer : Wrinkles and Furrows , Age and Crutches , Want the great Prize too in their Cluthces . A Beldam , who from Pouch , God wott , Had dropt an Angel for a Lot , More Shillings than sh' had Teeth , Heav'n knows , Tho' one a Colts one , under Rose , On Marrow-bones devoutly humbles , And her first morning Dirge she mumbles , Both her dry fists to Heav'n up lifts ye , To Beg great Prize : And near twice Fifty , Hopes in meer Charity 't will come , To buy new Coral for old Gum ; A sum will purchase Husbands plenty , And get a Boy of five and Twenty . For what though Blind , Lame , Halt and Cripple , No Teat so old but has a Nipple . But to leave Ache , Disease , and Wrinkles , That snuff of Life in Socket twinkles ; And to return to th' Fair and Young , The sweeter subject of our Song . Some of their weaker Faiths that dare Not altogether trust to Prayer , Resolv'd the Planets to inlook : To read their Doom , in Fates high Book , Who but great Patridge should they follow , That Modern Oracle of Apollo . Two Exchange Fillies , more particular , To that Great Sage made plaints Auticular ; And gain'd those wonderful Predictions From Stars too high , for Lyes or Fictions , That instantly the high flown Tits Threw off their Suitors , sneaking Cits ; Left the poor Rogues to Hemp or Willow : Their Heads disdain'd so poor a Pillow . Down from their Garrets , three full Scory , To Lodgings Rich , in Pomp and Glory , They made their Entry in full State ; So Cocksure of their golden Fate , Disdain'd to dine in less than Plate . And when in their sublimer Dreams , Their Contemplations glittering Themes , Visions of Love appear before us , ( Love of all Joys fills up the Chorus ) They scorn the Thought of Servants humbler Than Quality with Steeds and Rumbler . Or if by chance they stoop so low To think of Cit born Veins , or so ; The least will pin upon their sleeve Must be that paltry Thing , a Shr — But what if that dire Chance betide 'em , That this Gold shour should fall befide ' em . If they e're live to see that Loss , That too unhappy Weeping Cross ; Yet their great Prophet's not mistaken ; Though they lose Theirs , he saves his Bacon . Infallible Prediction's meant not But only , if our Sins prevent not . Poor Things , some Frailties sad mis-hap Can only make it miss their Lap . But , Ladies , above all the Rest Twelve Damsels of St. Dustans-West , The plain Domesticks of the Kitchin , To get a Prize felt that strange itching ; In a close Cellar-Consult got , They club'd their Stocks to buy a Lot ; Ten Pence a piece made just ten Shilling : Though Purse is weak , yet Flesh is willing . Now for the Masculine Devotion — Their Pulses too beat the same motion . Here you might see a Father Gripe Shrug up , and his Mustachios wipe ; Fortune , he thinks , in Duty bound , To lott him one poor Thousand Pound ; As , Dirt to Dirt , oblig'd at least To fill him one more Iron Chest . There a Young Heir implores the Bliss : Begs the great Prize to keep a Mis● . If his soft Prayer propitious Heaven hears , Cares not if Daddy lives these seven Years . A POET too , ( by chance God wor , ) Had rais'd the sum to buy a Lott . Thinks one Great Prize worth twenty Bays : To Fortune too would Altars raise ; Only th' unhappy Name of Witt , He was afraid would spoil his Hit : For Fortune , by her constant Rules , Is only bound to favour Fools . But of this vast prize-gaping Host The Beaus and Lovers make the most : To any other Interests move There 's Twenty want it all for Love : Some to buy Hackney Milk , and some For Milchers of their own at Home . In short , the mighty Goddess Fortune , Such contradicting Vows Importune , Her Deity with Devotion hug'd , This way and that way pull'd and tug'd , Her Ears on every side so lug'd . For all Hopes teem'd : not one stood Barren ; Whilst Prayers crost Prayers like Hares in Warren . Another sort with Prayers most hearty , Were bribing Fortune to their Party , ( In hopes to fix her slippery Deity , ) By wondrous promis'd Feats of Piety . One , if to him the great Prize falls , Will build a Pillar of St. Paul's . Another Zealous Ananias , To spend no less in Uses pious , If t' his Saint-Hand , the Lot assurges , He 'll found a Meeting-House for B — A roring Royster that stood near him , And hap'd by chance to over-hear him , What means ( quoth Spark ) the canting Wigion ; Wouldst thou Court Fortune with Religion ? Hast not thou learnt , a Fop so Old , That Pluto is the God of Gold . And Sin and Wickedness good store , Are the best Beggers at his Door ? If hopes of speeding were to Pray for 't , Oons , man , I de take a wiser way for 't ; Promise and Vow , 'twixt Mad and Drunk , To spend it all on Wine and Punk . The Saint held up his Hands , and blest him : Nay , and 't is thought ( that Fright possest him ) He'had cross'd himself : only 't was Popish ; And for that Cause not quite so modish . A Jovial Lad ( who ill cou'd spare it , When pinch't from Bottle , Friend , and Claret ) Pay'd for ten Tickets Angels ten , I hopes of vast Returns agen . And when the sober crowd of wise ones Were paying Fortune their Orisons ; He scorn'd to bend a Knee before her , That sickle Gypsy's blind Adorer : In her whole Wheel defyed each Spoke , Resolv'd a Heavenlyer Power t'invoke , T' Implore the mighty God of Bub . Her titterish Ball ! no , his sound Tub . If the great Lot falls to his share , He swears by Bacchus he'ell repair The barbarous Lewis only shame , The burning Heydelburgs dire Flame ; Refoun'd at his own proper Cost The Tun that Conflagration lost . But now to come to dire Conclusion , And paint the Phyzes of Confusion : T' a brace of hundreds and a half , That only have the luck to laugh ; No less then nine and Forty Thousand , Seven Hundred Fifty Gapers cozen'd , What Grins , Good L — d , and what Grimaces Was there in all those losing Faces . Here you might hear a whole half hundred , With a loud Peale of Curses thundred , Death ! ( they all cry . ) The happy Nick , Drawn by a Fortunate Sir Dick ! Falln to a Man of Wealth and Honour ! Fortune the Jilt , a Pl — light on her . A sum enough for the preserving Half a score Honest Lads from starving . Some losing Gaimsters swore and damn'd . Lott'ry ! was e'r● the World so sham'd ! From Venice , with a Pox ! brought or'e From the da●'● Babylonian Shore ! Desi●'d , most ●●tain , for our Ruin : For the poor Protestants undoing : A Popish-Plot , they all declare it ; Nor doubt but the Great O — s can Swear it . But above all , a Country Fellow , Who had ventur'd brace of Tens in Yellow ; And travell'd twice ten long deep Mile . Through Thick and Thin , o're Hedge and Stile , To see sweet Fortune kind and Frank ; Zooks , when he foun I his hopes all Blank , Had chi but lost it at All-Vours , ( Cryes Lout ) 'mongst honest Country Bores , Chi had not cared one fingle Farthing ; Chi'd had good Bub then int' hard Bargain ; But here chi've made a woful Bout on 't : A mon can't wet his Whistle out on 't : Nor de'el one thonk your Porter-Grvm Will con a mon for all that sum . But , oh , my Masters , what surprize , Ith● penetential Beauteous Eyes ; So many Fair Expectants cheated , And all their amorous hopes defeated , What Pencil , Reader , must I borrow , To draw that naked Face of Sorrow ? All the True Colours should I lay on , I hazard more than old Acteon . No , Ladies , not t' incurre your Frown , Nor his hard forked Doom pull down ; The bold Adventure I le give o're : Put on your Masks , I le see no more . FINIS .