An’ please your Worship here’s three fellows
Been hammering of us all about;
Broke our boxes, lanthorns, smellers,
And almost clos’d our peepers up.
CUT IX.—Tom, Jerry, and Logick in a Row.
Mercy! what a din and clatter
Breaks the stillness of the night,
Lamps do rattle—’tis a battle,
Quick, and let us see the sight.
CUT X.—Scene in a Gin-shop.
Here some are tumbling and jumping in,
And some are staggering out;
One’s pawn’d her smock for a quartern of gin,
Another, her husband’s coat.
CUT XI.—Poor Logick in the Fleet.