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A Day at Tunbridge Well s
You eye and examine the beautiful Throng, As o'er the clean Walks they pass lovely along; And if any, by chance, looks a little Demurer, You fancy, like ev'ry young fop, you could cure her; Till from some pretty Nymph a deep Wound you
receive, And yourself want the Cure which you thought you could give."
Thus John Byrom in Tunbridgiala. Invalids, lounging on the Pantiles, compared their symptoms; card-players explained how they should have won over-night—and mentioned the sums they had lost; lovers made their trysts, and others made their arrangements for visits, excursions, parties, and balls. About ten o'clock all went away to breakfast in their lodgings or at a tavern.
" Not so wounded, howe'er, as to make you forget, That your Honour this Morn has not breakfasted
yet,
So to Morley's you go, look about, and sit down;
Then comes the young Lass for your Honour's half-crown ;
She brings out the Book, you look wisely upon her;
' What's the Meaning of this ? '—* To Subscribe, please your Honour.'
So you write, as your Betters have all done before ye;—
'Tis a Custom, and so there's an End of the Story."
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