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The Playhouse Saint or Phillis Unmarked Near famous Covent Garden,A dome there stands on high,Where kings are representedAnd queens in metre die;The beaus and men of business,Diversions hither bring,To hear the wanton doxies prateAnd see them dance and sing. Here Phillis is a darling,As she herself gives out,As tight a lass as everDid use a double clout;She's brisk and gay and cunning,And wants a wedlock yoke,Her mother was before herAs good as ever stroke. Young suitors she had many,From squire up to lord,And daily she refus'd them,For virtue was the word;A saint she would be thought,And dissembled all she could,But jolly rakes all knew she wasOf playhouse flesh and blood. Her mother when encouraged With warm Geneva dose, Still cry'd "Take care, dear Philly, To keep thy haunches close." This made her stand out stoutly Opposing all that come, And twenty demi-cannon still Were mounted at her bum. The knight and country squire, Were shot with her disdain, The lawyer was outwitted The hardy soldier slain, The bluff tarpolian sailor, In vain cry'd "Hard a-port," She buffled all the shirks at sea As the country, town and court; The god of love, grown angryThat Phillis seemed so shy,Resolv'd her pride to humble,And rout her "pish and fie;"He sent a slow foot tailor,Who knew well how to stitch,And in a little time had foundA button for her britch. Yet was it not so close But 'tis known without all doubt, A little human figure Has secretly dropp'd out, And tho' some petty scandal, Pursue this venial fact, Her mother swears and does avow, Her honour is intact.
Near famous Covent Garden,A dome there stands on high,Where kings are representedAnd queens in metre die;The beaus and men of business,Diversions hither bring,To hear the wanton doxies prateAnd see them dance and sing.
Here Phillis is a darling,As she herself gives out,As tight a lass as everDid use a double clout;She's brisk and gay and cunning,And wants a wedlock yoke,Her mother was before herAs good as ever stroke.
Young suitors she had many,From squire up to lord,And daily she refus'd them,For virtue was the word;A saint she would be thought,And dissembled all she could,But jolly rakes all knew she wasOf playhouse flesh and blood.
Her mother when encouraged With warm Geneva dose, Still cry'd "Take care, dear Philly, To keep thy haunches close." This made her stand out stoutly Opposing all that come, And twenty demi-cannon still Were mounted at her bum.
The knight and country squire, Were shot with her disdain, The lawyer was outwitted The hardy soldier slain, The bluff tarpolian sailor, In vain cry'd "Hard a-port," She buffled all the shirks at sea As the country, town and court;
The god of love, grown angryThat Phillis seemed so shy,Resolv'd her pride to humble,And rout her "pish and fie;"He sent a slow foot tailor,Who knew well how to stitch,And in a little time had foundA button for her britch.
Yet was it not so close But 'tis known without all doubt, A little human figure Has secretly dropp'd out, And tho' some petty scandal, Pursue this venial fact, Her mother swears and does avow, Her honour is intact.
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