cannot Walk it, except you can make your Supporters carry you down to the Bridge, and there we may take Water at the Old-Swan, and Land at Salisbury-Court, and then we shall be properly plac’d to proceed in our further Ramble.
I accordingly submitted to my Friends Advice; and hobbled down to the Water-side, with as much uneasiness, as a Badger Walks upon even Ground, or a Bear down-hill, where a Jolly Grizzle-Pated CharonCharon: the ferryman who conveyed the spirits of the dead across the river Styx in Greek and Latin mythology. The potential elevation of subject matter and theme implied by the reference to the classical Pantheon is an irony that becomes increasingly apparent through the rest of the paragraph. handed us into his Wherry,Wherry: a light rowing boat used to carry passengers and goods. whips off his short skirted Doublet, whereon was a Badg, to shew whose Fool he was, then fixes his Stretcher,Stretcher: a piece of wood placed across a rowing boat as a foot-rest for the waterman. bids us Trim the Boat, and away he Row’d us; but we had not SwomSwom: swum, i.e., to have floated along the water’s surface in their boat. above the length of a West-Country Barge, before a Scoundrel Crew of Lambeth Gardeners attack’d us with such a Volley of saucy Nonsence, that it made my Eyes stare, my Head ake, my Tongue run, and my Ears tingle: One of them beginning with us after this manner, You couple of Treacherous Sons of Bridewell B—s,Bridewell Bitches: the reference to Bridewell Prison, a house of correction, makes the “sons of bitches” epithet even more insulting. who are Pimps to your own Mothers, StallionsStallion: whoremonger or pimp. to your Sisters, and Cock-BawdsCock-Bawd: pimp. to the rest of your Relations; Who were begot by Huffling, Spew’d up, and not Bornbegot by Huffling, Spew’d up, and not Born: “to huffle,” meaning “to blow,” carries the same meaning here as the present-day slang blow job, that is, they were conceived in the mouth and vomited up rather than born naturally.; and Christen’d out of a Chamber-Pot; How dare you show your Ugly Faces upon the River of Thames, and Fright the Kings Swans from holding their heads above Water?
To which our Well-fed Pilot, after he had clear’d his Voice with a Hem, most manfully Reply’d, You Lousie Starv’d Crew of Worm-pickers, and Snail Catchers; You Offspring of a Dunghill, and Brothers to a Pumkin, who can’t afford Butter to your Cabbage, or Bacon to your Sprouts; You shitten Rogues, who worship the Fundament,Fundament: the anus. because you live by a Turd; who was that sent the Gardener to cut a Hundred of Sparragrass,Sparragrass: asparagus, regarded as an aphrodisiac. and dug twice in his Wives Parsley-bedParsley-Bed: a woman’s genitals. before the Goodman came back again? Hold your Tongues you KnittyKnitty: infested with nits. Radish-mongers,Worm-picker; Snail catcher; Radish-monger: worm, snail, and radish were all euphemisms for penis, though Ward’s characters could just as likely be using these terms to disparage the work of their combatants as menial, relatively unskilled labour; monger; a merchant or dealer. or I’m whet my Needle upon my A—s and sow your Lips together.
This Verbal Engagement was no sooner over, but another Squabling Crew met us, be-
beinging most Women, who, as they past us, gave us another Salutation, viz. You Taylors! Who Pawn’d the Gentlemans Cloak to buy a Wedding-Dinner, and afterwards sold his Wives Cloathes for Money to fetch it out again? Here, Timothy, fetch your Mistress and I three hap’worth of boild Beef, see first they make good Weight, then stand hard for a bit of Carrot. To which our Orator, after a puff and a pull up, being well Skill’d in the Water-Dialect, made this return, You, Dirty Salt-As’d brood of Night-walkers and Shop-lifters, which of you was it that ty’d her Apron about her Neck, because she would be Kis’d in a Night-rail; and reckon’d her Gallant a shilling for fouling of Linnen, when she had never a Smock on? Have a care of your Cheeks, you Whores, we shall have you Branded next Sessions, that the World may see your Trade in your Faces. You are lately come from the Hemp and Hammer: O Good Sir Robert Knock, Pray, Good Sir Robert Knock. The next Boat we met, was freighted with a parcel of City Shop-keepers, who being eager, like the rest, to show their acuteness of Wit, and admirable breeding, accosted us after this manner, viz. You Affidavit Scoundrels, pluck the Straws out of the heels of your shooes. You Oats’s Journey-men, who are you going to swear out of an Estate at Westminster-Hall? Tho’ you know nothing of the matter, You Rogues we shall have you in the Pillory when Rotten Eggs are plenty. You are in a safe Condition, you may Travel any where by Water and never fear Drowning. Thus they run on, till our Spokes-man stop’d their Mouths with this following Homily, You Cuckoldly Company of Whiffling, Pedling, Lying, Over-reaching Ninny-Hammers, who were forc’d to desire some handsome Batchelor to Kiss your Wives, and beg a Holiday for you, or else you would not have dar’d to come out to Day. Go make hast home, that you may find the Fowles at the Fire. If I had but as many Horns on my Head, as you are forc’d to hide in your Pockets, what a Monster should I be? You little think what your Wives are
providing