W. W. D.

ROWLANDSON

THE PUBLICAN'S PRAYER.

JOLLY SILENUS, Father of all-infiring Bacchus, continue, I befeech you, the cuftom of the original Golden Lion, and infpire me, its Landlord, with becoming gratitude for all thy favours. Strengthen, I pray thee, the digestive faculties of our worthy Vicar, so that he may nightly repair to my little back-parlour, and meafure out his money to my advantage. Give Farmer Blunt an additional relifh for the old BROWN STOUT, on which I have expended so much Tobacco and Treacle in the three laft brewings. Pardon, I befeech thee, the vaft numbers I have been guilty of lending a lift to, in their paflage through this fublunary world, by my laft pretended importation of real IRISH WHISKEY. Yet ſtill my various ſchemes draw caſh from the pockets of my cuftomers, like patent Machines drawing porter from a cellar. Grant me ſucces, I pray thee, with the Rich Widow of the adjoining ſtreet, whom thou knoweſt I adore, ſend that ſhe may frequently look into the bar, till in time ſhe becomes its fixed ornament:—Oh! ſhe is more lovely than Meux's beſt Intire—her eyes ſparkle like Cyder, fresh decanted—ſhe is blooming as the brighteſt Uſquebaugh, and her breath is sweeter than Royal Gin, or the fumes of Annifeed—no acid lurks in her compofition, and her temper is mild, as Stretton and Preſton's beſt brewed Ale—to me, ſhe has more charms than a Bowl of Arrack Punch, or a pipe of the beſt Virginia, in ſhort, a gill of her, is worth a pint of other women. O, mirth-loving, gay Silenus! grant but this addition to my ſtock in Trade, and I have nothing to aſk thee for but plenty of ſmuggled ſpirits, and protection from the Excife-man.

SPRAGG, PRINTER, 27, BOW-STREET, COVENT-GARDEN.

WOODWARD Del

ROWLANDSON Foul-

THE PUBLICAN'S PRAYER.

JOLLY SILENUS, Father of all-infpiring Bacchus, continue, I befeech you, the cuftom of the ori-
ginal Golden Lion, and infpire me, its Landlord, with becoming gratitude for all thy favours.
Strengthen, I pray thee, the digestive faculties of our worthy Vicar, so that he may nightly repair
to my little back-parlour, and meafure out his money to my advantage. Give Farmer Blunt an
additional relish for the old BROWN STOUT, on which I have expended so much Tobacco and
Treacle in the three laft brewings. Pardon, I befeech thee, the vaft numbers I have been guilty
of lending a lift to, in their paflage through this sublunary world, by my laft pretended importa-
tion of real IRISH WHISKEY. Yet ſtill my various ſchemes draw caſh from the pockets of my
cuftomers, like patent Machines drawing porter from a cellar. Grant me fucceſs, I pray thee, with
the Rich Widow of the adjoining ſtreet, whom thou knoweſt I adore, ſend that ſhe may frequently
look into the bar, till in time ſhe becomes its fixed ornament:—Oh! ſhe is more lovely than
Meux's beſt Intire—her eyes ſparkle like Cyder, fresh decanted—ſhe is blooming as the brighteſt
Uſquebaugh, and her breath is fweeter than Royal Gin, or the fumes of Annifeed—no acid lurks in her
compoſition, and her temper is mild, as Stretton and Preſton's beſt brewed Ale—to me, ſhe has
more charms than a Bowl of Arrack Punch, or a pipe of the beſt Virginia, in ſhort, a gill of her, is
worth a pint of other women. O, mirth-loving, gay Silenus! grant but this addition to my ſlock
in Trade, and I have nothing to aſk thee for but plenty of ſmuggled ſpirits, and protecſion from
the Excife-man.

97L

50L

20L

(These charts are for monitor calibration only)

Yale Center for British Art, 2013