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On The Collection of Jests, entitled, The Wittie Companion, or Jests of all sorts,
Tvvo Rustics Talking.
I Tell thee Bob, where I have been,
Where I the rarest Jests have zeen,
ô Jests without compare;
Such Jests again cannot be shown
In Oxford, no, nor Cambridg town
They be so verie rare:
I yesterday did go to buy▪
A Book (thou know'st for thee and I)
Of something that was prettie,
And when Poor Robins Jests I saw,
Me thoughts th'were old and lean and raw,
Not like his Almanacs wittie.
I then did ask for ALL SORTS OF JESTS,
Which Bob thou know'st come from the breasts
Of MANY that are wittie:
The Man to me did then confess,
They were not yet come out o'th' Press;
Quoth I, the more's the pittie:
At last he shew'd the verie copie
Of that i'th' press: I am a verie puppie,
Bob, if e're the like was zeen,
Before I half a score had read,
With laughing (if it may be zed)
I'd like to have broke my spleen.
I then did' point to read'em o're,
Such Jests I never heard before,
'Fore George 'tis true our Bob:
And e're that I had read 'em half,
I found I was so great with laugh,
I thought my zides would squobb:
Then hey for this Book now I zay,
Evaith I long to zee the day
That it shall printed be,
Then thee and I will each buy one
For our two Sweet-hearts, Nell, and Jone,
For Mirth and Melodie.