Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy Volume VI Part 11

_The valiant_ SOLDIER'S, _and_ SAILOR'S _Loyal Subjects Health, to the_ QUEEN, PRINCE _and n.o.ble_ COMMANDERS.

[Music]

Now, now the Queen's Health, And let the Haut-boys play; Whilst the Troops on their March shall huzza, huzza, huzza, Now now the Queen's Health, And let the Haut-boys play, Whilst the Drums and the Trumpets, Sound from the Sh.o.r.e, huzza, huzza, huzza.

Now now the Prince's Health, And let the Haut-boys play, Whilst the Troops on their March, shall huzza, huzza, huzza: Now now the Prince's Health, And let the Haut-boys play; Whilst the Drums and the Trumpets Sound from the Sh.o.r.e huzza, huzza, huzza.

Now the brave _Eugene's_ Health, Who shews the _French_ brave play; And does March over Rocks, let's huzza, huzza, huzza, Now the brave _Eugene's_ Health, And let the Haut-boys play; Whilst the Drums and the Trumpets Sounds as they March, huzza, huzza, huzza.

Now now the Duke's Health, Brave _Marlborough_ I say, Whilst the Cannon do roar, let's huzza, huzza, huzza, Now now the Duke's Health, And let the Haut-boys play; Whilst the Drums and the Trumpets Sound from the Sh.o.r.e, huzza, huzza, huzza.

Now brave _Ormond's_ Health Boys, Whilst Colours do display: And the _Britains_ in Fight, shall huzza, huzza, huzza; Now brave _Ormond's_ Health Boys, Whilst Colours do display: And the Drums and the Trumpets Sound from the Sh.o.r.e huzza, huzza, huzza.

Now Sir _Cloudsly's_ Health Boys And Trumpets sound each Day, Whilst the Tars with their Caps shall huzza, huzza, huzza.

Now Sir _Cloudsly's_ Health Boys, And Trumpets sound each Day, Whilst the Thundring Cannon Loudly do roar huzza, huzza, huzza.

Brave _Peterborough's_ Health Boys, Who boldly makes his way, While the _French_ run let's huzza, huzza, huzza; Brave _Peterborough's_ Health Boys, And let the Haut-boys play, While the Drums and the Trumpets Sound as they March huzza, huzza, huzza.

Now now brave _Leak's_ Health, Who is sailed away, For to find the _French_ Fleet let's huzzza, huzza, huzza, Now now brave _Leak's_ Health, Who'll shew the _French_ fair play, While the Drums and the Trumpets, Sound from on Board, huzza, huzza, huzza.

_The_ BEAU'S _Ballad. Occasioned by the sight of a White Marble_ SIDE-TABLE.

[Music]

A Pox on the Fool, Who could be so dull, To contrive such a Table for Gla.s.ses: Which at the first sight, The Guests must affright, More by half than their Liquor rejoyces.

'Tis so like a Tomb, That whoever does come Can't look on't without thus reflecting; Heaven knows how soon, We must lye under one, And such Thoughts must needs be perplexing.

Then away with that Stone.

Break it, throw it down, To some Church or other, else fling't in: 'Tis fitter by far, To have a place there, Than stand here to spoil Mirth and good Drinking.

There Death let it show, To those who will go, And Monuments there gaze and stare at; We come here to live, And sad Thoughts away drive, With good store of immortal Claret.

Tho' the Gla.s.ses stand there, They shan't do so here, 'Tis the only kind Lesson that teaches; Whilst it seems to say, Life's short, Drink away, No time o'er your Liquor to Preach is.

Then fill up the Gla.s.s, About let it pa.s.s, Tho' the Marble of death doth remind us; The Wine shall ne'er die, Tho' you must and I, We'll not leave a drop of't behind us.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

Underneath the Castle Wall, the Queen of Love sat mourning, Tearing of her golden Locks, her red Rose, Cheeks adorning; With her Lilly white Hand she smote her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, And said she was forsaken, With that the Mountains they did skip, And the Hills fell all a quaking.

Underneath the rotten Hedge, the Tinkers Wife sat s.h.i.+ting, Tearing of a Cabbage Leaf, her s.h.i.+tten A-- A wiping; With her cole black Hands she scratch'd her A-- And swore she was bes.h.i.+tten, With that the Pedlars all did skip, And the Fidlers fell a spitting.

_The unfortunate Lover. Set by Mr._ WILLIS.

[Music]

What shall I do, I am undone, Where shall I fly my self to shun; Ah! me my self, my self must kill, And yet I die against my Will.

In starry Letters I behold, My death is in the Heavens inroll'd, There find I writ in Skies above, That I, poor I, must die for Love.

'Twas not my Love deserv'd to die, Oh no, it was unworthy I; I for her Love should not have dy'd, But that I had no worth beside.

Ah me! that Love such Woe procures, For without her no Life endures; I for her Virtues did her serve, Doth such a Love a Death deserve.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

My Dear and only Love take heed, How thou thy self expose; And let not longing Lovers feed, Upon such looks as those I'll Marble Wall thee round about, And Build without a Door; But if my Love doth once break out, I'll never Love thee more.

If thou hast love that thou refine, And tho' thou seest me not; Yet paralell'd that Heart of thine Shall never be forgot: But if Unconstancy admit, A Stranger to bear sway; My Treasure that proves counterfeit, And he may gain the Day.

I'll lock my self within a Cell, And wander under Ground; For there is no such Faith in her, As there is to be found: I'll curse the Day that e'er thy Face, My Soul did so betray; And so for ever, evermore, I'll sing Oh well-a-day!

Like _Alexander_ I will prove, For I will reign alone; I'll have no Partners in my Love, Nor Rivals in my Throne: I'll do by thee as _Nero_ did, When _Rome_ was set on fire; Not only all relief forbid, But to the Hills retire.

I'll fold my Arms like Ensigns up, Thy falshood to deplore; And after such a bitter Cup, I'll never love thee more.

Yet for the Love I bore thee once, And lest that Love should die; A Marble Tomb of Stone I'll write, The Truth to testifie: That all the Pilgrims pa.s.sing by, May see and so implore; And stay and read the reason why, I'll never love thee more.

_The Second Part of the Trader's Medly: Or, The Cries of_ LONDON.