ASong,

music

THROUGHthe cold shady Woods,As I was ranging,I heard the pretty Birds,Notes sweetly changing:Down by the Meadow's side,There runs a RiverA little Boy I spy'dWith Bow and Quiver.Little Boy tell me whyThou art here diving?Art thou some Run-away;And hast no abiding?I am no Run-away,Venusmy Mother,She gave me leave to play,When I came hither.Little Boy go with me,And be my servant,I will take care to seeFor thy preferment:If I with thee should go,Venuswould chide me,And take away my Bow,And never abide me.Little Boy let me know,What's thy Name termed,That thou dost wear a Bow,And go so arm'd:You may perceive the same,With often changing;Cupidit is my Name,I live by ranging.IfCupidbe thy Name,That shoot at Rovers;I have heard of thy Fame,By wounded Lovers:Should any languish thatAre set on fire;By such a naked Brat,I much admire.If thou dost but the least,At my Laws grumble;I'll pierce thy stubborn breast,And make thee humble,If I with Golden Dart,Wound thee but surely,There's no Physitians Art,That e're can cure thee.Little Boy with thy Bow,Why dost thou threaten;It is not long agoSince thou wast beaten:Thy wanton Mother, fairVenuswill chide thee;When all thy Arrows are gone,Thou may'st go hide thee.Of powerful shafts you see,I am well stored;Which makes my Deity,So much adored:With one poor Arrow now,I'll make thee shiver;And bend unto my Bow,And fear my Quiver.Dear littleCupidbe,Courteous and kindly;I know thou can'st not see,But shootest blindly:Altho' thou call'st me blind,Surely I'll hit thee;That thou shalt quickly find,I'll not forget thee.Then littleCupidcaught,His Bow so nimble;And shot a fatal shaft,Which made him tremble:Go tell thy Mistress dear,Thou canst discover;What all the Passions are,Of a dying Lover.And now this gallant HeartSorely lies bleeding;He felt the greatest smart,From Love proceeding;He did her help implore,Whom he affected,But found that more and more,Him she rejected.ForCupidwith his Craft,Quickly had chosen,And with a Leaden shaft,Her Heart had frozen:Which caus'd this Lover more,Daily to languish;AndCupid'sAid implore,To heal this Anguish.He humble pardon crav'dFor his Offence past;And vow'd himself a Slave,And to love stedfast;His Prayers so ardent were,Whilst his Heart panted,ThatCupidlent an ear,And his suit granted.For by his present plaint,He was regarded;And his adored Saint,His Love rewarded:And now they live in Joy,Sweetly embracing,And left the little Boy,In the Woods chasing.

THROUGHthe cold shady Woods,As I was ranging,I heard the pretty Birds,Notes sweetly changing:Down by the Meadow's side,There runs a RiverA little Boy I spy'dWith Bow and Quiver.

THROUGHthe cold shady Woods,

As I was ranging,

I heard the pretty Birds,

Notes sweetly changing:

Down by the Meadow's side,

There runs a River

A little Boy I spy'd

With Bow and Quiver.

Little Boy tell me whyThou art here diving?Art thou some Run-away;And hast no abiding?I am no Run-away,Venusmy Mother,She gave me leave to play,When I came hither.

Little Boy tell me why

Thou art here diving?

Art thou some Run-away;

And hast no abiding?

I am no Run-away,

Venusmy Mother,

She gave me leave to play,

When I came hither.

Little Boy go with me,And be my servant,I will take care to seeFor thy preferment:If I with thee should go,Venuswould chide me,And take away my Bow,And never abide me.

Little Boy go with me,

And be my servant,

I will take care to see

For thy preferment:

If I with thee should go,

Venuswould chide me,

And take away my Bow,

And never abide me.

Little Boy let me know,What's thy Name termed,That thou dost wear a Bow,And go so arm'd:You may perceive the same,With often changing;Cupidit is my Name,I live by ranging.

Little Boy let me know,

What's thy Name termed,

That thou dost wear a Bow,

And go so arm'd:

You may perceive the same,

With often changing;

Cupidit is my Name,

I live by ranging.

IfCupidbe thy Name,That shoot at Rovers;I have heard of thy Fame,By wounded Lovers:Should any languish thatAre set on fire;By such a naked Brat,I much admire.

IfCupidbe thy Name,

That shoot at Rovers;

I have heard of thy Fame,

By wounded Lovers:

Should any languish that

Are set on fire;

By such a naked Brat,

I much admire.

If thou dost but the least,At my Laws grumble;I'll pierce thy stubborn breast,And make thee humble,If I with Golden Dart,Wound thee but surely,There's no Physitians Art,That e're can cure thee.

If thou dost but the least,

At my Laws grumble;

I'll pierce thy stubborn breast,

And make thee humble,

If I with Golden Dart,

Wound thee but surely,

There's no Physitians Art,

That e're can cure thee.

Little Boy with thy Bow,Why dost thou threaten;It is not long agoSince thou wast beaten:Thy wanton Mother, fairVenuswill chide thee;When all thy Arrows are gone,Thou may'st go hide thee.

Little Boy with thy Bow,

Why dost thou threaten;

It is not long ago

Since thou wast beaten:

Thy wanton Mother, fair

Venuswill chide thee;

When all thy Arrows are gone,

Thou may'st go hide thee.

Of powerful shafts you see,I am well stored;Which makes my Deity,So much adored:With one poor Arrow now,I'll make thee shiver;And bend unto my Bow,And fear my Quiver.

Of powerful shafts you see,

I am well stored;

Which makes my Deity,

So much adored:

With one poor Arrow now,

I'll make thee shiver;

And bend unto my Bow,

And fear my Quiver.

Dear littleCupidbe,Courteous and kindly;I know thou can'st not see,But shootest blindly:Altho' thou call'st me blind,Surely I'll hit thee;That thou shalt quickly find,I'll not forget thee.

Dear littleCupidbe,

Courteous and kindly;

I know thou can'st not see,

But shootest blindly:

Altho' thou call'st me blind,

Surely I'll hit thee;

That thou shalt quickly find,

I'll not forget thee.

Then littleCupidcaught,His Bow so nimble;And shot a fatal shaft,Which made him tremble:Go tell thy Mistress dear,Thou canst discover;What all the Passions are,Of a dying Lover.

Then littleCupidcaught,

His Bow so nimble;

And shot a fatal shaft,

Which made him tremble:

Go tell thy Mistress dear,

Thou canst discover;

What all the Passions are,

Of a dying Lover.

And now this gallant HeartSorely lies bleeding;He felt the greatest smart,From Love proceeding;He did her help implore,Whom he affected,But found that more and more,Him she rejected.

And now this gallant Heart

Sorely lies bleeding;

He felt the greatest smart,

From Love proceeding;

He did her help implore,

Whom he affected,

But found that more and more,

Him she rejected.

ForCupidwith his Craft,Quickly had chosen,And with a Leaden shaft,Her Heart had frozen:Which caus'd this Lover more,Daily to languish;AndCupid'sAid implore,To heal this Anguish.

ForCupidwith his Craft,

Quickly had chosen,

And with a Leaden shaft,

Her Heart had frozen:

Which caus'd this Lover more,

Daily to languish;

AndCupid'sAid implore,

To heal this Anguish.

He humble pardon crav'dFor his Offence past;And vow'd himself a Slave,And to love stedfast;His Prayers so ardent were,Whilst his Heart panted,ThatCupidlent an ear,And his suit granted.

He humble pardon crav'd

For his Offence past;

And vow'd himself a Slave,

And to love stedfast;

His Prayers so ardent were,

Whilst his Heart panted,

ThatCupidlent an ear,

And his suit granted.

For by his present plaint,He was regarded;And his adored Saint,His Love rewarded:And now they live in Joy,Sweetly embracing,And left the little Boy,In the Woods chasing.

For by his present plaint,

He was regarded;

And his adored Saint,

His Love rewarded:

And now they live in Joy,

Sweetly embracing,

And left the little Boy,

In the Woods chasing.

fancy rule

music

ANDnow, now the Duke's March,Let the Haut-boys play;And his Troops in the Close,Shall Huzza, Huzza, Huzza:And now, now the Duke's March,Let the Haut-boys play;And his Troops in the Close,Shall Huzza, Huzza, Huzza.

ANDnow, now the Duke's March,

Let the Haut-boys play;

And his Troops in the Close,

Shall Huzza, Huzza, Huzza:

And now, now the Duke's March,

Let the Haut-boys play;

And his Troops in the Close,

Shall Huzza, Huzza, Huzza.

music

AURELIAnow one Moment lost,A thousand Sighs may after cost;Desires may oft return in vain,But Youth will ne'er return again:Desires may oft return in vain,But Youth will ne'er return again.The fragrant sweets which do adorn,The glowing blushes of the Morn;By Noon are vanish'd all away,Then letAurelialive to Day.

AURELIAnow one Moment lost,A thousand Sighs may after cost;Desires may oft return in vain,But Youth will ne'er return again:Desires may oft return in vain,But Youth will ne'er return again.

AURELIAnow one Moment lost,

A thousand Sighs may after cost;

Desires may oft return in vain,

But Youth will ne'er return again:

Desires may oft return in vain,

But Youth will ne'er return again.

The fragrant sweets which do adorn,The glowing blushes of the Morn;By Noon are vanish'd all away,Then letAurelialive to Day.

The fragrant sweets which do adorn,

The glowing blushes of the Morn;

By Noon are vanish'd all away,

Then letAurelialive to Day.

music

CHLOEfound Love for hisPsychein Tears,She play'd with his Dart, and smil'd at his Fears, fears;'Till feeling at length the Poison it keeps,Cupidhe smiles, andChloeshe weeps:'Till feeling at length the Poison it keeps,Cupidhe smiles, andChloeshe weeps.Cupidhe smiles, andChloeshe weeps.

CHLOEfound Love for hisPsychein Tears,

She play'd with his Dart, and smil'd at his Fears, fears;

'Till feeling at length the Poison it keeps,

Cupidhe smiles, andChloeshe weeps:

'Till feeling at length the Poison it keeps,

Cupidhe smiles, andChloeshe weeps.

music

LIBERIA'Sall my Thought and Dream,She's all, all, all, she's all, all, all, my Pleasure and my Pain:Liberia'sall that I esteem,And all I fear is her Disdain,Her Wit, her Humour and her Face,Please beyond all I felt before:Oh! Why can't I Admire her less,Or dearLiberia, or dearLiberialove me more!Like Stars all other Female Charms,Ne'er touch my Heart, but Feast my Eyes;For she's the only Sun that Warms,With her alone I'd live and dye:Immortal Pow'rs whose Work Divine,Inspires my Soul with so much Love;Grant yourLiberiamay be mine,And then, then, then, then, and then, then I share your Joys above.

LIBERIA'Sall my Thought and Dream,

She's all, all, all, she's all, all, all, my Pleasure and my Pain:

Liberia'sall that I esteem,

And all I fear is her Disdain,

Her Wit, her Humour and her Face,

Please beyond all I felt before:

Oh! Why can't I Admire her less,

Or dearLiberia, or dearLiberialove me more!

Like Stars all other Female Charms,Ne'er touch my Heart, but Feast my Eyes;For she's the only Sun that Warms,With her alone I'd live and dye:Immortal Pow'rs whose Work Divine,Inspires my Soul with so much Love;Grant yourLiberiamay be mine,And then, then, then, then, and then, then I share your Joys above.

Like Stars all other Female Charms,

Ne'er touch my Heart, but Feast my Eyes;

For she's the only Sun that Warms,

With her alone I'd live and dye:

Immortal Pow'rs whose Work Divine,

Inspires my Soul with so much Love;

Grant yourLiberiamay be mine,

And then, then, then, then, and then, then I share your Joys above.

music

COYBelindamay discover,Love is nothing but a Name;'Tis not Beauty warms the Lover,When he tells her of his Flame:But she keeps a greater Treasure,Binds and Bonds inflame his Heart;Charms that flow with tides of Pleasure,More obey'd thanCupid'sDart.FalseAmintorleave Dissembling,Tell her plainly you are Poor;Hence are all your Sighs and Tremblings,When you talk of your Amour:Tho' you Sigh, and tho' you Languish,'Till she gives herself away;Then you soon forget your Anguish,AndBelindamust obey.

COYBelindamay discover,

Love is nothing but a Name;

'Tis not Beauty warms the Lover,

When he tells her of his Flame:

But she keeps a greater Treasure,

Binds and Bonds inflame his Heart;

Charms that flow with tides of Pleasure,

More obey'd thanCupid'sDart.

FalseAmintorleave Dissembling,Tell her plainly you are Poor;Hence are all your Sighs and Tremblings,When you talk of your Amour:Tho' you Sigh, and tho' you Languish,'Till she gives herself away;Then you soon forget your Anguish,AndBelindamust obey.

FalseAmintorleave Dissembling,

Tell her plainly you are Poor;

Hence are all your Sighs and Tremblings,

When you talk of your Amour:

Tho' you Sigh, and tho' you Languish,

'Till she gives herself away;

Then you soon forget your Anguish,

AndBelindamust obey.

fancy rule

music

CORINNA'tis you that I Love,And love with a Passion, a Passion so great;That death a less Torment would prove,Than either your Frown or your hate:So soft and prevailing your Charms,In vain I should strive to retreat;Oh! then let me live in your Arms,Or dye in Despair at your Feet.In vain I may pray to Love's Powers,To ease me and pity my Pain;Since the Heart that I sue for is yours,Who all other Powers disdain:Like aGoddessyou Absolute reign,You alone 'tis can save or kill;To whom else then should I complain,Since my fate must depend on your will.

CORINNA'tis you that I Love,

And love with a Passion, a Passion so great;

That death a less Torment would prove,

Than either your Frown or your hate:

So soft and prevailing your Charms,

In vain I should strive to retreat;

Oh! then let me live in your Arms,

Or dye in Despair at your Feet.

In vain I may pray to Love's Powers,To ease me and pity my Pain;Since the Heart that I sue for is yours,Who all other Powers disdain:Like aGoddessyou Absolute reign,You alone 'tis can save or kill;To whom else then should I complain,Since my fate must depend on your will.

In vain I may pray to Love's Powers,

To ease me and pity my Pain;

Since the Heart that I sue for is yours,

Who all other Powers disdain:

Like aGoddessyou Absolute reign,

You alone 'tis can save or kill;

To whom else then should I complain,

Since my fate must depend on your will.

fancy rule

music

DOnot rumple my Top-knot,I'll not be kiss'd to Day;I'll not be hawl'd and pull'd about,Thus on a Holy-day:Then if your Rudeness you don't leave,No more is to be said;See this long Pin upon my Sleeve,I'll run up to the Head:And if you rumple my head Gear,I'll give you a good flurt on the Ear.Come upon a Worky-day,When I have my old Cloaths on;I shall not be so nice nor Coy,Nor stand so much upon:Then hawl and pull, and do your best,Yet I shall gentle be:Kiss hand, and Mouth, and feel my Breast,And tickle to my Knee:I won't be put out of my rode,You shall not rumple my Commode.

DOnot rumple my Top-knot,

I'll not be kiss'd to Day;

I'll not be hawl'd and pull'd about,

Thus on a Holy-day:

Then if your Rudeness you don't leave,

No more is to be said;

See this long Pin upon my Sleeve,

I'll run up to the Head:

And if you rumple my head Gear,

I'll give you a good flurt on the Ear.

Come upon a Worky-day,When I have my old Cloaths on;I shall not be so nice nor Coy,Nor stand so much upon:Then hawl and pull, and do your best,Yet I shall gentle be:Kiss hand, and Mouth, and feel my Breast,And tickle to my Knee:I won't be put out of my rode,You shall not rumple my Commode.

Come upon a Worky-day,

When I have my old Cloaths on;

I shall not be so nice nor Coy,

Nor stand so much upon:

Then hawl and pull, and do your best,

Yet I shall gentle be:

Kiss hand, and Mouth, and feel my Breast,

And tickle to my Knee:

I won't be put out of my rode,

You shall not rumple my Commode.

music

FAIRESTIsle, all Isles excelling,Seat of pleasures, and of Love;Venushere, will chuse her dwelling,And forsake herCyprian Grove.Cupidfrom his fav'rite Nation,Care and Envy will remove;Jealousy that poisons Passion,And Despair that dies for Love.Gentle murmurs sweet complaining,Sighs that blow the fire of Love;Soft Repulses, kind Disdaining,Shall be all the Pains you prove.Every Swain shall pay his Duty,Grateful every Nymph shall prove;And as these excel in Beauty,Those shall be renown'd for Love.

FAIRESTIsle, all Isles excelling,Seat of pleasures, and of Love;Venushere, will chuse her dwelling,And forsake herCyprian Grove.

FAIRESTIsle, all Isles excelling,

Seat of pleasures, and of Love;

Venushere, will chuse her dwelling,

And forsake herCyprian Grove.

Cupidfrom his fav'rite Nation,Care and Envy will remove;Jealousy that poisons Passion,And Despair that dies for Love.

Cupidfrom his fav'rite Nation,

Care and Envy will remove;

Jealousy that poisons Passion,

And Despair that dies for Love.

Gentle murmurs sweet complaining,Sighs that blow the fire of Love;Soft Repulses, kind Disdaining,Shall be all the Pains you prove.

Gentle murmurs sweet complaining,

Sighs that blow the fire of Love;

Soft Repulses, kind Disdaining,

Shall be all the Pains you prove.

Every Swain shall pay his Duty,Grateful every Nymph shall prove;And as these excel in Beauty,Those shall be renown'd for Love.

Every Swain shall pay his Duty,

Grateful every Nymph shall prove;

And as these excel in Beauty,

Those shall be renown'd for Love.

fancy rule

music

HANGthis whining way of Wooing,Loving was design'd a sport;Sighing, talking without doing,Makes a sily Idol court:Don't believe that Words can move her,If she be not well inclin'd;She herself must be the Lover,To perswade her to be kind:If at last she grants the Favour,And consents to be undone;Never think your Passion gave her,To your wishes, but her own.

HANGthis whining way of Wooing,

Loving was design'd a sport;

Sighing, talking without doing,

Makes a sily Idol court:

Don't believe that Words can move her,

If she be not well inclin'd;

She herself must be the Lover,

To perswade her to be kind:

If at last she grants the Favour,

And consents to be undone;

Never think your Passion gave her,

To your wishes, but her own.

music

HERE's the Summer sprightly, gay,Smiling, wanton, fresh and fair:Adorn'd with all the Flowers ofMay,Whose various sweets perfume the Air,Adorn'd with all the Flowers ofMay,Whose various sweets perfume the Air.

HERE's the Summer sprightly, gay,

Smiling, wanton, fresh and fair:

Adorn'd with all the Flowers ofMay,

Whose various sweets perfume the Air,

Adorn'd with all the Flowers ofMay,

Whose various sweets perfume the Air.

ANHonest, Well-knowing, and well-known Souldier, (whose Name for some Reasons I conceal) dwelt lately inWestminster,in the round Woolstaple, he was a Man only for Action, but such Actions as Loyalty did always justifie, either for his Prince, Country, or their dear and near Friends or Allies, in such noble designs he would and did often with Courage and good Approvement employ himself in the Low-countries, having always with him a little black Dog, whom he calledDrunkard;which Curr would (by no means) ever forsake or leave him. But lately in these French Wars, the Dog being in the Isle ofRHEA,where his Master (valiantly fighting) was Unfortunately slain, whose death was griev'd for by as many as knew him; and as the Corps lay dead, the poor loving Masterless Dog would not forsake it, until an English Souldier pull'd off his Masters Coat, whom the Dog followed to a Boat, by which means he came back toWestminster,where he now remains. Upon whose Fidelity, (for the love I owed his deceased Master) I have writ these following Lines, to express my Addiction to the Proverb,Love me and Love my Dog.

READERif you expectfrom hence,An overplus of Witor Sence,I deal with no suchTraffique:HeroicksandIambicksI,My Buskinde Muse hathlaid them by,Pray be content withSaphicke.Drunkardthe Dog myPatron is,And he doth love mewell for this,Whose Love I take forGuerdon;And he's a Dog ofMarshis TrainWho hath seen Men andHorses slain,The like was neverheard on.

READERif you expectfrom hence,An overplus of Witor Sence,I deal with no suchTraffique:

READERif you expect

from hence,

An overplus of Wit

or Sence,

I deal with no such

Traffique:

HeroicksandIambicksI,My Buskinde Muse hathlaid them by,Pray be content withSaphicke.

Heroicksand

IambicksI,

My Buskinde Muse hath

laid them by,

Pray be content with

Saphicke.

Drunkardthe Dog myPatron is,And he doth love mewell for this,Whose Love I take forGuerdon;

Drunkardthe Dog my

Patron is,

And he doth love me

well for this,

Whose Love I take for

Guerdon;

And he's a Dog ofMarshis TrainWho hath seen Men andHorses slain,The like was neverheard on.

And he's a Dog ofMars

his Train

Who hath seen Men and

Horses slain,

The like was never

heard on.

music

STANDclear, my Masters'ware your Shins,For now to Bark myMuse begins,Tis of a Dog, Iwrite now:Yet let me tell youfor excuse,That Muse or Dog, orDog or Muse,Have no intent tobite now.In Doggrel Rhimes myLines are writ,As for a Dog I thoughtit fit,And fitting best hisCarkass.Had I been silent asa Stoick,Or had I writ inVerse Heroick,Then had I been aStark Ass.OldHomerwrote ofFrogs and Mice,AndRabblaieswrote ofNits and Lice,AndVirgilofa Flye:One wrote the Treatiseof the Fox,Another prais'd theFrenchman's Pox,Whose praise was buta Lye.GreatAlexanderhada Horse,A famous Beast ofmighty forceYecleap'dBuce-phalus:He was a stout andsturdy Steed,And of an exc'lent Raceand Breed,But that concernsnot us.I list not write theBaby praiseOf Apes, or Owls, orPopingeys,Or of the CatGrammalkin:But of a true and trustyDog,Who well could fawn,But never cog,His Praise my Pen mustwalk in.AndDrunkardhe isfalsely nam'd,For which that Vice hene'er was blam'd,For he Loves not GodBacchus:The Kitchin he esteemsmore dear,Than Cellars full ofWine or Beer,Which oftentimes dothwreck us.He is no Mastiff, hugeof Lim,Or Water-spaniel, thatcan Swim,Nor Blood-Hound norno Setter:No Bob-tail Tyke, orTrundle-tayl,Nor can he Partridge springor Quail,But yet he is muchbetter.No Dainty Ladiesfisting-Hound,That lives upon ourBritainGround,Nor Mungrel Cur orShogh:Should Litters or wholeKennels dare,With HonestDrunkardto compare,My Pen writes,marryfough.The Otter-Hound, theFox-Hound, norThe swift Foot Grey-Houndcar'd he for,NorCerberusHell'sBandogg;His Service proves themCurs and Tikes,And his Renown aTerror strikes,In Water-Dog andLand-Dog.'Gainst braveBuquoyorstoutDampiere,He durst have Bark'dwithout Fear,Or 'gainst the hotCountTilly:AtBergenLeaguer andBredha,Against the NobleSpinola,He shew'd himself notsilly.He serv'd his Masterat commands,In the most WarlikeNetherlands,InHolland,Zeeland,Brabant:He to him still wastrue and just,And if his fare were buta Crust,He patiently wouldknab on't.He durst t have stoodSternAjaxFrown,When WiseUlyssestalk'd him downIn graveDiebusillis;When he by cunningprating wonThe Armour fromfierce Tellamon,That 'longed toAchilles.BraveDrunkard, oft onGod's dear Ground,Took such poor Lodgingas he found,In Town, Field, Campor Cottage;His Bed but cold, hisDyet thin,He oft in that poor casewas in,To want both Meat andPottage.Two rows of Teeth forArms he bore,Which in his Mouth healways wore,Which serv'd to fight andfeed too:His grumbling for hisDrum did pass,And barking (lowd) hisOrdnance was,Which help'd in time ofneed too.His Tail his Ensignhe did make,Which he would oft displayand shake,Fast in his Poopuprear'd:His Powder hot, butsomewhat dank,His Shot in (scent) mostdangerous rank,Which sometimes made himfeared.Thus hath he long serv'dnear and far,Well known to be aDog of War,Though he ne'er shot withMusket:Yet Cannons roar orCulverings,That whizzing throughthe welkin sings,He slighted as aPus-Cat.For Guns, nor Drums,nor Trumpets clang.Nor hunger, cold, normany a pang,Could make him leave hisMaster:In Joy, and inAdversity,In Plenty, and inPoverty,He often was aTaster.Thus serv'd he on theBelgiaCoast,Yet ne'er was heard tobrag or boast,Of Services done byhim:He is no Phariseeto blow,A Trumpet, his goodDeeds to show,'Tis pity to belyhim.At last he Home return'din Peace,Till Wars, and Jars, andScars increase'Twixt us, andFrance,in malice:Away went he andcrost the Sea,With's Master, to theIsle ofRhea,A good way beyondCallice.He was so true, so good,so kind,He scorn'd to stay at Homebehind,And leave his Masterfrustrate;For which could I likeOvidwrite,Or else likeVirgilcouldindite,I would his Praiseillustrate.I wish my Hands couldnever stir,But I do love athankful Curr,More than a Maningrateful:And this poor Dog'sFidelity,May make a thanklessKnave descry,How much that Vice ishateful.For why, of all theFaults of Men,Which they have got fromHell's black Den,Ingratitude theworst is:For Treasons, Murders,Incests, Rapes,Nor any Sin inany shapes,So bad, nor soaccurst is.I hope I shall noAnger gain,If I do write a wordOr twain,How this Dog wasdistressed;His Master beingwounded dead,Shot, cut and slash'd, fromHeel to Head,Think how he wasoppressed.To lose him that heloved most,And be upon a ForeignCoast,Where no Man wouldrelieve him:He lick'd his MastersWounds in Love,And from his Carkasswould not move,Altho' the sightdid grieve him.By chance a Souldierpassing by,That did his MastersCoat espy,And quick away hetook it:ButDrunkardfollowedto a Boat,To have again his Master'sCoat,Such Theft he could notbrook it.So after all his woand wrack,ToWestminsterhe wasbrought back,A poor half starvedCreature;And in remembrance ofhis cares,Upon his back heclosely wearsA Mourning Coat byNature.LiveDrunkard, soberDrunkardlive,I know thou no offencewilt give,Thou art a harmlessDumb thing;And for thy love I'llfreely grant,Rather than thou shouldstever want,Each Day to give theesomething.Thou shalt beStellifideby me,I'll make theDog-starwait on thee,And in his room I'llseat thee:WhenSoldoth in hisProgress swing,And in the Dog-dayshotly sing,He shall not over-heat thee.I lov'd thy Master, sodid allThat knew him,great and small,And he did welldeserve it:For he was Honest,Valiant, Good,And one that Manhoodunderstood,And did till Deathpreserve it.For whose sake, I'llhis Dog prefer,And at the Dog atWestminster,ShallDrunkardbe aBencher;Where I will set awork his Chops,Not with bare Bones, orbroken scraps,But Victuals from myTrencher.So honestDrunkardnow adieu,Thy Praise no longerI'll pursue,But still my Love isto thee:And when thy Life isgone and spent,These Lines shall be thyMonument,And shall much Servicedo thee.

STANDclear, my Masters'ware your Shins,For now to Bark myMuse begins,Tis of a Dog, Iwrite now:Yet let me tell youfor excuse,That Muse or Dog, orDog or Muse,Have no intent tobite now.

STANDclear, my Masters

'ware your Shins,

For now to Bark my

Muse begins,

Tis of a Dog, I

write now:

Yet let me tell you

for excuse,

That Muse or Dog, or

Dog or Muse,

Have no intent to

bite now.

In Doggrel Rhimes myLines are writ,As for a Dog I thoughtit fit,And fitting best hisCarkass.Had I been silent asa Stoick,Or had I writ inVerse Heroick,Then had I been aStark Ass.

In Doggrel Rhimes my

Lines are writ,

As for a Dog I thought

it fit,

And fitting best his

Carkass.

Had I been silent as

a Stoick,

Or had I writ in

Verse Heroick,

Then had I been a

Stark Ass.

OldHomerwrote ofFrogs and Mice,AndRabblaieswrote ofNits and Lice,AndVirgilofa Flye:One wrote the Treatiseof the Fox,Another prais'd theFrenchman's Pox,Whose praise was buta Lye.

OldHomerwrote of

Frogs and Mice,

AndRabblaieswrote of

Nits and Lice,

AndVirgilof

a Flye:

One wrote the Treatise

of the Fox,

Another prais'd the

Frenchman's Pox,

Whose praise was but

a Lye.

GreatAlexanderhada Horse,A famous Beast ofmighty forceYecleap'dBuce-phalus:He was a stout andsturdy Steed,And of an exc'lent Raceand Breed,But that concernsnot us.

GreatAlexanderhad

a Horse,

A famous Beast of

mighty force

Yecleap'dBuce-

phalus:

He was a stout and

sturdy Steed,

And of an exc'lent Race

and Breed,

But that concerns

not us.

I list not write theBaby praiseOf Apes, or Owls, orPopingeys,Or of the CatGrammalkin:But of a true and trustyDog,Who well could fawn,But never cog,His Praise my Pen mustwalk in.

I list not write the

Baby praise

Of Apes, or Owls, or

Popingeys,

Or of the Cat

Grammalkin:

But of a true and trusty

Dog,

Who well could fawn,

But never cog,

His Praise my Pen must

walk in.

AndDrunkardhe isfalsely nam'd,For which that Vice hene'er was blam'd,For he Loves not GodBacchus:The Kitchin he esteemsmore dear,Than Cellars full ofWine or Beer,Which oftentimes dothwreck us.

AndDrunkardhe is

falsely nam'd,

For which that Vice he

ne'er was blam'd,

For he Loves not God

Bacchus:

The Kitchin he esteems

more dear,

Than Cellars full of

Wine or Beer,

Which oftentimes doth

wreck us.

He is no Mastiff, hugeof Lim,Or Water-spaniel, thatcan Swim,Nor Blood-Hound norno Setter:No Bob-tail Tyke, orTrundle-tayl,Nor can he Partridge springor Quail,But yet he is muchbetter.

He is no Mastiff, huge

of Lim,

Or Water-spaniel, that

can Swim,

Nor Blood-Hound nor

no Setter:

No Bob-tail Tyke, or

Trundle-tayl,

Nor can he Partridge spring

or Quail,

But yet he is much

better.

No Dainty Ladiesfisting-Hound,That lives upon ourBritainGround,Nor Mungrel Cur orShogh:Should Litters or wholeKennels dare,With HonestDrunkardto compare,My Pen writes,marryfough.

No Dainty Ladies

fisting-Hound,

That lives upon our

BritainGround,

Nor Mungrel Cur or

Shogh:

Should Litters or whole

Kennels dare,

With HonestDrunkard

to compare,

My Pen writes,marry

fough.

The Otter-Hound, theFox-Hound, norThe swift Foot Grey-Houndcar'd he for,NorCerberusHell'sBandogg;His Service proves themCurs and Tikes,And his Renown aTerror strikes,In Water-Dog andLand-Dog.

The Otter-Hound, the

Fox-Hound, nor

The swift Foot Grey-Hound

car'd he for,

NorCerberusHell's

Bandogg;

His Service proves them

Curs and Tikes,

And his Renown a

Terror strikes,

In Water-Dog and

Land-Dog.

'Gainst braveBuquoyorstoutDampiere,He durst have Bark'dwithout Fear,Or 'gainst the hotCountTilly:AtBergenLeaguer andBredha,Against the NobleSpinola,He shew'd himself notsilly.

'Gainst braveBuquoyor

stoutDampiere,

He durst have Bark'd

without Fear,

Or 'gainst the hot

CountTilly:

AtBergenLeaguer and

Bredha,

Against the Noble

Spinola,

He shew'd himself not

silly.

He serv'd his Masterat commands,In the most WarlikeNetherlands,InHolland,Zeeland,Brabant:He to him still wastrue and just,And if his fare were buta Crust,He patiently wouldknab on't.

He serv'd his Master

at commands,

In the most Warlike

Netherlands,

InHolland,Zeeland,

Brabant:

He to him still was

true and just,

And if his fare were but

a Crust,

He patiently would

knab on't.

He durst t have stoodSternAjaxFrown,When WiseUlyssestalk'd him downIn graveDiebusillis;When he by cunningprating wonThe Armour fromfierce Tellamon,That 'longed toAchilles.

He durst t have stood

SternAjaxFrown,

When WiseUlysses

talk'd him down

In graveDiebus

illis;

When he by cunning

prating won

The Armour from

fierce Tellamon,

That 'longed to

Achilles.

BraveDrunkard, oft onGod's dear Ground,Took such poor Lodgingas he found,In Town, Field, Campor Cottage;His Bed but cold, hisDyet thin,He oft in that poor casewas in,To want both Meat andPottage.

BraveDrunkard, oft on

God's dear Ground,

Took such poor Lodging

as he found,

In Town, Field, Camp

or Cottage;

His Bed but cold, his

Dyet thin,

He oft in that poor case

was in,

To want both Meat and

Pottage.

Two rows of Teeth forArms he bore,Which in his Mouth healways wore,Which serv'd to fight andfeed too:His grumbling for hisDrum did pass,And barking (lowd) hisOrdnance was,Which help'd in time ofneed too.

Two rows of Teeth for

Arms he bore,

Which in his Mouth he

always wore,

Which serv'd to fight and

feed too:

His grumbling for his

Drum did pass,

And barking (lowd) his

Ordnance was,

Which help'd in time of

need too.

His Tail his Ensignhe did make,Which he would oft displayand shake,Fast in his Poopuprear'd:His Powder hot, butsomewhat dank,His Shot in (scent) mostdangerous rank,Which sometimes made himfeared.

His Tail his Ensign

he did make,

Which he would oft display

and shake,

Fast in his Poop

uprear'd:

His Powder hot, but

somewhat dank,

His Shot in (scent) most

dangerous rank,

Which sometimes made him

feared.

Thus hath he long serv'dnear and far,Well known to be aDog of War,Though he ne'er shot withMusket:Yet Cannons roar orCulverings,That whizzing throughthe welkin sings,He slighted as aPus-Cat.

Thus hath he long serv'd

near and far,

Well known to be a

Dog of War,

Though he ne'er shot with

Musket:

Yet Cannons roar or

Culverings,

That whizzing through

the welkin sings,

He slighted as a

Pus-Cat.

For Guns, nor Drums,nor Trumpets clang.Nor hunger, cold, normany a pang,Could make him leave hisMaster:In Joy, and inAdversity,In Plenty, and inPoverty,He often was aTaster.

For Guns, nor Drums,

nor Trumpets clang.

Nor hunger, cold, nor

many a pang,

Could make him leave his

Master:

In Joy, and in

Adversity,

In Plenty, and in

Poverty,

He often was a

Taster.

Thus serv'd he on theBelgiaCoast,Yet ne'er was heard tobrag or boast,Of Services done byhim:He is no Phariseeto blow,A Trumpet, his goodDeeds to show,'Tis pity to belyhim.

Thus serv'd he on the

BelgiaCoast,

Yet ne'er was heard to

brag or boast,

Of Services done by

him:

He is no Pharisee

to blow,

A Trumpet, his good

Deeds to show,

'Tis pity to bely

him.

At last he Home return'din Peace,Till Wars, and Jars, andScars increase'Twixt us, andFrance,in malice:Away went he andcrost the Sea,With's Master, to theIsle ofRhea,A good way beyondCallice.

At last he Home return'd

in Peace,

Till Wars, and Jars, and

Scars increase

'Twixt us, andFrance,

in malice:

Away went he and

crost the Sea,

With's Master, to the

Isle ofRhea,

A good way beyond

Callice.

He was so true, so good,so kind,He scorn'd to stay at Homebehind,And leave his Masterfrustrate;For which could I likeOvidwrite,Or else likeVirgilcouldindite,I would his Praiseillustrate.

He was so true, so good,

so kind,

He scorn'd to stay at Home

behind,

And leave his Master

frustrate;

For which could I like

Ovidwrite,

Or else likeVirgilcould

indite,

I would his Praise

illustrate.

I wish my Hands couldnever stir,But I do love athankful Curr,More than a Maningrateful:And this poor Dog'sFidelity,May make a thanklessKnave descry,How much that Vice ishateful.

I wish my Hands could

never stir,

But I do love a

thankful Curr,

More than a Man

ingrateful:

And this poor Dog's

Fidelity,

May make a thankless

Knave descry,

How much that Vice is

hateful.

For why, of all theFaults of Men,Which they have got fromHell's black Den,Ingratitude theworst is:For Treasons, Murders,Incests, Rapes,Nor any Sin inany shapes,So bad, nor soaccurst is.

For why, of all the

Faults of Men,

Which they have got from

Hell's black Den,

Ingratitude the

worst is:

For Treasons, Murders,

Incests, Rapes,

Nor any Sin in

any shapes,

So bad, nor so

accurst is.

I hope I shall noAnger gain,If I do write a wordOr twain,How this Dog wasdistressed;His Master beingwounded dead,Shot, cut and slash'd, fromHeel to Head,Think how he wasoppressed.

I hope I shall no

Anger gain,

If I do write a word

Or twain,

How this Dog was

distressed;

His Master being

wounded dead,

Shot, cut and slash'd, from

Heel to Head,

Think how he was

oppressed.

To lose him that heloved most,And be upon a ForeignCoast,Where no Man wouldrelieve him:He lick'd his MastersWounds in Love,And from his Carkasswould not move,Altho' the sightdid grieve him.

To lose him that he

loved most,

And be upon a Foreign

Coast,

Where no Man would

relieve him:

He lick'd his Masters

Wounds in Love,

And from his Carkass

would not move,

Altho' the sight

did grieve him.

By chance a Souldierpassing by,That did his MastersCoat espy,And quick away hetook it:ButDrunkardfollowedto a Boat,To have again his Master'sCoat,Such Theft he could notbrook it.

By chance a Souldier

passing by,

That did his Masters

Coat espy,

And quick away he

took it:

ButDrunkardfollowed

to a Boat,

To have again his Master's

Coat,

Such Theft he could not

brook it.

So after all his woand wrack,ToWestminsterhe wasbrought back,A poor half starvedCreature;And in remembrance ofhis cares,Upon his back heclosely wearsA Mourning Coat byNature.

So after all his wo

and wrack,

ToWestminsterhe was

brought back,

A poor half starved

Creature;

And in remembrance of

his cares,

Upon his back he

closely wears

A Mourning Coat by

Nature.

LiveDrunkard, soberDrunkardlive,I know thou no offencewilt give,Thou art a harmlessDumb thing;And for thy love I'llfreely grant,Rather than thou shouldstever want,Each Day to give theesomething.

LiveDrunkard, sober

Drunkardlive,

I know thou no offence

wilt give,

Thou art a harmless

Dumb thing;

And for thy love I'll

freely grant,

Rather than thou shouldst

ever want,

Each Day to give thee

something.

Thou shalt beStellifideby me,I'll make theDog-starwait on thee,And in his room I'llseat thee:WhenSoldoth in hisProgress swing,And in the Dog-dayshotly sing,He shall not over-heat thee.

Thou shalt beStellifide

by me,

I'll make theDog-star

wait on thee,

And in his room I'll

seat thee:

WhenSoldoth in his

Progress swing,

And in the Dog-days

hotly sing,

He shall not over-

heat thee.

I lov'd thy Master, sodid allThat knew him,great and small,And he did welldeserve it:For he was Honest,Valiant, Good,And one that Manhoodunderstood,And did till Deathpreserve it.

I lov'd thy Master, so

did all

That knew him,

great and small,

And he did well

deserve it:

For he was Honest,

Valiant, Good,

And one that Manhood

understood,

And did till Death

preserve it.

For whose sake, I'llhis Dog prefer,And at the Dog atWestminster,ShallDrunkardbe aBencher;Where I will set awork his Chops,Not with bare Bones, orbroken scraps,But Victuals from myTrencher.

For whose sake, I'll

his Dog prefer,

And at the Dog at

Westminster,

ShallDrunkardbe a

Bencher;

Where I will set a

work his Chops,

Not with bare Bones, or

broken scraps,

But Victuals from my

Trencher.

So honestDrunkardnow adieu,Thy Praise no longerI'll pursue,But still my Love isto thee:And when thy Life isgone and spent,These Lines shall be thyMonument,And shall much Servicedo thee.

So honestDrunkard

now adieu,

Thy Praise no longer

I'll pursue,

But still my Love is

to thee:

And when thy Life is

gone and spent,

These Lines shall be thy

Monument,

And shall much Service

do thee.

fancy rule

music

HOWhappy's the Husband, how happy's the Husband,Whose Wife has been try'd, has been try'd,Not damn'd to the Bed, not damn'd to the Bed of an ignorant Bride;Secure of what's left, secure of what's left, he ne'er misses the rest,But where there's enough, enough, enough, but where there's enough, supposes a Feast:So foreknowing the Cheat,He escapes the Deceit;And in spight of the Curse he resolves, he resolves to be blest.And in spight of the Curse he resolves, he resolves to be blest.He resolves to be blest, he resolves, he resolves to be blest.If Children are blessings, his comfort's the more,Whose Spouse has been known to be fruitful before;And the Boy that she brings ready made to his Hand,May stand him in stead for an Heir to his Land:Shou'd his own prove a Sot,When 'tis lawfully gotAs when e'er it is so, if it won't I'll be hang'd.

HOWhappy's the Husband, how happy's the Husband,

Whose Wife has been try'd, has been try'd,

Not damn'd to the Bed, not damn'd to the Bed of an ignorant Bride;

Secure of what's left, secure of what's left, he ne'er misses the rest,

But where there's enough, enough, enough, but where there's enough, supposes a Feast:

So foreknowing the Cheat,

He escapes the Deceit;

And in spight of the Curse he resolves, he resolves to be blest.

He resolves to be blest, he resolves, he resolves to be blest.

If Children are blessings, his comfort's the more,

Whose Spouse has been known to be fruitful before;

And the Boy that she brings ready made to his Hand,

May stand him in stead for an Heir to his Land:

Shou'd his own prove a Sot,

When 'tis lawfully got

As when e'er it is so, if it won't I'll be hang'd.

fancy rule

music

IFever you mean to be kind,To me the Favour, the Favour allow;For fear that to Morrow should alter my Mind,Oh! let me now, now, now,If in Hand then a Guinea you'll give,And swear by this kind Embrace;That another to Morrow, as you hope to live,Oh! then I will strait unlace:For why should we two disagree,Since we have, we have opportunity.

IFever you mean to be kind,

To me the Favour, the Favour allow;

For fear that to Morrow should alter my Mind,

Oh! let me now, now, now,

If in Hand then a Guinea you'll give,

And swear by this kind Embrace;

That another to Morrow, as you hope to live,

Oh! then I will strait unlace:

For why should we two disagree,

Since we have, we have opportunity.

fancy rule

music

Iknow her false, I know her base,I know that Gold alone can move;I know she Jilts me to my Face,And yet good Gods, and yet good Gods I know I Love.I see too plain and yet am Blind,Wou'd think her true, while she forsooth;To me and to my Rival's kind,Courts him, courts me, courts him, courts me, and Jilts us both.

Iknow her false, I know her base,I know that Gold alone can move;I know she Jilts me to my Face,And yet good Gods, and yet good Gods I know I Love.

Iknow her false, I know her base,

I know that Gold alone can move;

I know she Jilts me to my Face,

And yet good Gods, and yet good Gods I know I Love.

I see too plain and yet am Blind,Wou'd think her true, while she forsooth;To me and to my Rival's kind,Courts him, courts me, courts him, courts me, and Jilts us both.

I see too plain and yet am Blind,

Wou'd think her true, while she forsooth;

To me and to my Rival's kind,

Courts him, courts me, courts him, courts me, and Jilts us both.

fancy rule

music

FYEJockeynever prattle more so like aLoon,No Rebel e'er shall gar my Heart to Love:Sawneywas a LoyalScottho' dead and gone,AndJennyin herDaddy'sway with muckle Joy shall move:Laugh at theKirk-Apostles& the Canting swarms,And fight with bonny Lads that love their Monarchy and King,ThenJennyfresh and blith shall take thee in her Arms,And give thee twanty Kisses, and perhaps a better thing.

FYEJockeynever prattle more so like aLoon,

No Rebel e'er shall gar my Heart to Love:

Sawneywas a LoyalScottho' dead and gone,

AndJennyin herDaddy'sway with muckle Joy shall move:

Laugh at theKirk-Apostles& the Canting swarms,

And fight with bonny Lads that love their Monarchy and King,

ThenJennyfresh and blith shall take thee in her Arms,

And give thee twanty Kisses, and perhaps a better thing.

fancy rule

music

IAm come to lock all fast,Love without me cannot last:Love, like counsels of the Wise,Must be hid from vulgar Eyes;'Tis holy, 'tis holy, and we must, we must conceal it,They prophane it, they prophane it, who reveal it,They prophane it, they profane it, who reveal it.

IAm come to lock all fast,

Love without me cannot last:

Love, like counsels of the Wise,

Must be hid from vulgar Eyes;

'Tis holy, 'tis holy, and we must, we must conceal it,

They prophane it, they prophane it, who reveal it,

They prophane it, they profane it, who reveal it.

fancy rule

music

AFTERthe pangs of fierce Desire,The doubts and hopes that wait on Love;And feed by turns the raging Fire,How charming must Fruition prove:When the triumphant Lover feels,None of those Pains which once he bore;Or when reflecting on his Ills,He makes his Pleasure, Pleasure more,He makes his Pleasure, Pleasure more.

AFTERthe pangs of fierce Desire,

The doubts and hopes that wait on Love;

And feed by turns the raging Fire,

How charming must Fruition prove:

When the triumphant Lover feels,

None of those Pains which once he bore;

Or when reflecting on his Ills,

He makes his Pleasure, Pleasure more,

He makes his Pleasure, Pleasure more.

fancy rule

music

INvainClemene, you bestow,The promis'd Empire of your Heart;If you refuse to let me know,The wealthy Charms of every part.My Passion with your kindness grew,Tho' Beauty gave the first desire,But Beauty only to pursue,Is following a wandring Fire.As Hills in perspective, suppress,The free enquiry of the sight:Restraint makes every Pleasure less,And takes from Love the full delight.Faint Kisses may in part supply,Those eager Longings of my Soul;But oh! I'm lost, if you deny,A quick possession of the whole.

INvainClemene, you bestow,The promis'd Empire of your Heart;If you refuse to let me know,The wealthy Charms of every part.

INvainClemene, you bestow,

The promis'd Empire of your Heart;

If you refuse to let me know,

The wealthy Charms of every part.

My Passion with your kindness grew,Tho' Beauty gave the first desire,But Beauty only to pursue,Is following a wandring Fire.

My Passion with your kindness grew,

Tho' Beauty gave the first desire,

But Beauty only to pursue,

Is following a wandring Fire.

As Hills in perspective, suppress,The free enquiry of the sight:Restraint makes every Pleasure less,And takes from Love the full delight.

As Hills in perspective, suppress,

The free enquiry of the sight:

Restraint makes every Pleasure less,

And takes from Love the full delight.

Faint Kisses may in part supply,Those eager Longings of my Soul;But oh! I'm lost, if you deny,A quick possession of the whole.

Faint Kisses may in part supply,

Those eager Longings of my Soul;

But oh! I'm lost, if you deny,

A quick possession of the whole.

fancy rule

music

MYdearCorinnagive me leave,To gaze, to gaze on her I Love;The Gods cou'd never, never yet conceive,Her Worth, tho' from above;There's none on Earth can equalize,So sweet, so sweet a Soul as she;Who ever gains so great a Prize,Has all, has all that Heav'n can be.Curse on my Fate, who plac'd me here,In a Sphere, a Sphere, so much below,My Love, my Life, my all that's dear;And yet she must not know:The torment for her I sustain,Shall ill, shall ill rewarded be;When loving, when loving, and not Lov'd again,Does prove, does prove, a Hell to me.

MYdearCorinnagive me leave,

To gaze, to gaze on her I Love;

The Gods cou'd never, never yet conceive,

Her Worth, tho' from above;

There's none on Earth can equalize,

So sweet, so sweet a Soul as she;

Who ever gains so great a Prize,

Has all, has all that Heav'n can be.

Curse on my Fate, who plac'd me here,In a Sphere, a Sphere, so much below,My Love, my Life, my all that's dear;And yet she must not know:The torment for her I sustain,Shall ill, shall ill rewarded be;When loving, when loving, and not Lov'd again,Does prove, does prove, a Hell to me.

Curse on my Fate, who plac'd me here,

In a Sphere, a Sphere, so much below,

My Love, my Life, my all that's dear;

And yet she must not know:

The torment for her I sustain,

Shall ill, shall ill rewarded be;

When loving, when loving, and not Lov'd again,

Does prove, does prove, a Hell to me.

music

IFWine be a Cordial why does it Torment?If a Poison oh! tell me whence comes my Content?Since I drink it with Pleasure, why should I complain?Or repent ev'ry Morn when I know 'tis in vain:Yet so charming the Glass is, so deep is the Quart,That at once it both drowns and enlivens my Heart.I take it off briskly and when it is down,By my jolly Complexion I make my Joy known;But oh! how I'm blest when so strong it does prove,By its soveraign heat to expel that of Love:When in quenching the Old, I creat a new Flame,And am wrapt in such Pleasures that still want a Name.

IFWine be a Cordial why does it Torment?

If a Poison oh! tell me whence comes my Content?

Since I drink it with Pleasure, why should I complain?

Or repent ev'ry Morn when I know 'tis in vain:

Yet so charming the Glass is, so deep is the Quart,

That at once it both drowns and enlivens my Heart.

I take it off briskly and when it is down,By my jolly Complexion I make my Joy known;But oh! how I'm blest when so strong it does prove,By its soveraign heat to expel that of Love:When in quenching the Old, I creat a new Flame,And am wrapt in such Pleasures that still want a Name.

I take it off briskly and when it is down,

By my jolly Complexion I make my Joy known;

But oh! how I'm blest when so strong it does prove,

By its soveraign heat to expel that of Love:

When in quenching the Old, I creat a new Flame,

And am wrapt in such Pleasures that still want a Name.

music

LETMarylive long,She's Vertuous and Witty,All charmingly Pretty;LetMarylive long,And Reign many Years:Wou'd the Cloud was gone o'er,That troubles us sore,When the Sun-shine appears;We shall be deliver'd,We shall be deliver'd,From fury and fears.Heavens send the King home,With Laurels to crown him,Each Rebel to own him;And may he live long,And Reign many Years:When the Conquest is plain,And three Kingdoms regain'd;Let his Enemies fall,ThenCæsarshall flourish,ThenCæsarshall flourish,In spight of them all.All glorious and gay,Let the King live for ever:May he languish never, never:Like Flowers inMay,His Actions smell sweet:When the Wars are all done,And he safe in his Throne;Trophies lay at his Feet,With loud Acclamations,With loud Acclamations,His Majesty greet.

LETMarylive long,

She's Vertuous and Witty,

All charmingly Pretty;

LetMarylive long,

And Reign many Years:

Wou'd the Cloud was gone o'er,

That troubles us sore,

When the Sun-shine appears;

We shall be deliver'd,

From fury and fears.

Heavens send the King home,With Laurels to crown him,Each Rebel to own him;And may he live long,And Reign many Years:When the Conquest is plain,And three Kingdoms regain'd;Let his Enemies fall,ThenCæsarshall flourish,ThenCæsarshall flourish,In spight of them all.

Heavens send the King home,

With Laurels to crown him,

Each Rebel to own him;

And may he live long,

And Reign many Years:

When the Conquest is plain,

And three Kingdoms regain'd;

Let his Enemies fall,

ThenCæsarshall flourish,

In spight of them all.

All glorious and gay,Let the King live for ever:May he languish never, never:Like Flowers inMay,His Actions smell sweet:When the Wars are all done,And he safe in his Throne;Trophies lay at his Feet,With loud Acclamations,With loud Acclamations,His Majesty greet.

All glorious and gay,

Let the King live for ever:

May he languish never, never:

Like Flowers inMay,

His Actions smell sweet:

When the Wars are all done,

And he safe in his Throne;

Trophies lay at his Feet,

With loud Acclamations,

His Majesty greet.

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