Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy Volume VI Part 18

And every thing that was curious and fine, _Without ever_, &c.

They drank to their Hostess a merry full Bowl, _With a hey down_, &c.

She pledg'd them in Love, like a generous Soul, _Without ever_, &c.

The Hostess, her Maid, and Cousin all three, _With a hey down_, &c.

They Kist and was merry, as merry cou'd be, _Without ever_, &c.

Full Bottles and Gla.s.ses replenish'd the Board, _With a hey down_, &c.

No liquors was wanting the house could afford, _Without ever_, &c.

When they had been Merry good part of the Day, _With a hey down_, &c.

They called their Hostess to know what's to pay, _Without ever_, &c.

There's Thirty good s.h.i.+llings, and Six pence, she cry'd, _With a hey down_, &c.

They told her that she should be soon satisfy'd, _Without ever_, &c.

The Handsomest Man of the three up he got; _With a hey down, ho down, Lanktre down derry_, He laid her on her Back, and paid her the shot, _Without ever a Stiver of Money_.

The middlemost Man to her Cousin he went, _With a hey down, ho down, Lanktre down derry_, She being handsome, he gave her Content, _Without ever a Stiver of Money_.

The last Man of all he took up with the Maid, _With a hey down_, &c.

And thus the whole Shot it was lovingly paid, _Without ever_, &c.

The Hostess, the Cousin, and Servant, we find, _With a hey down_, &c.

Made Courtesies, and thank'd them for being so kind, _Without ever_, &c.

The Hostess said, welcome kind Gentleman all, _With a hey down_, &c.

If you chance to come this way be pleased to call, _Without ever_, &c.

Then taking their Leaves they went merrily out, _With a hey down, ho down, Lanktre down, derry_, And they're gone for to Travel the Nation about, _Without ever a Stiver of Money_.

_The Maids_ CONJURING _Book_.

[Music]

A Young Man lately in our Town, He went to Bed one Night; He had no sooner lay'd him down, But was troubled with a Sprite: So vigorously the Spirit stood, Let him do what he can, Sure then he said it must be lay'd, By Woman, not by Man.

A Handsome Maid did undertake, And into Bed she leap'd; And to allay the Spirits Power, Full close to him she crep'd: She having such a Guardian care, Her Office to discharge; She open'd wide her Conjuring Book, And lay'd the Leaves at large.

Her Office she did well perform, Within a little s.p.a.ce; Then up she rose, and down he lay, And durst not shew his Face; She took her leave, and away she went, When she had done the Deed; Saying, if't chance to come again, Then send for me with speed.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

All Joy to Mortals, Joy and Mirth, Eternal _Io's_ sing; The G.o.ds of Love descend to Earth, Their Darts have lost their Sting.

The Youth shall now complain no more, On _Sylvia's_ needless Scorn; But she shall Love if he adore, And melt when he shall burn.

The Nymph no longer shall be shy, But leave the Jilting Road; And _Daphne_ now no more shall Fly, The wounded Painted G.o.d.

But all shall be Serene and Fair, No sad complaints of Love, Shall fill the gentle whispering Air, No Ecchoing sighs, the Grove.

Beneath the shades young _Strephon_ lies, Of all his wish possess'd; Gazing on _Sylvia's_ charming Eyes, Whose Soul is there confess'd.

All soft and sweet the Maid appears, With looks that know no Art; And though she yields with Trembling Fears, She yields with all her Heart.

_The_ PRESBYTERS _Gill_.

[Music]

Hang the Presbyters Gill, Bring a Pint of Sack, _Will_, More Orthodox of the two; Though a slender Dispute, Will strike the Elf Mute, He's one of the honester Crew.

In a Pint there's small heart, Sirrah, bring us a Quart, There's substance and vigour met; 'Twill hold us in play, Some Part of the Day, But we'll sink him before Sun-set.

The daring old Pottle, Does now bid us Battle, Let's try what his strength can do; Keep your Ranks, and your Files, And for all his Wiles, We'll tumble him down stairs too.

The Stout Brested _Lombard_, His Brains ne'er inc.u.mbred, With drinking of Gallons three; _Trycongius_ was named, And by _Caesar_ Famed, Who dubbed him Knight Cap-a-pee.

If then Honour be in't, Why a Pox should be stint, Our selves of the fulness it bears?

H'has less Wit than an Ape In the Blood of a Grape, Will not plunge himself o'er Head and Ears.

Then Summon the Gallon, A stout Foe, and a Tall one, And likely to hold us to't; Keep but Coyn in your Purse, The Word is Disburse, I'll warrant he'll sleep at your Foot.

See the bold Foe appears, May he fall that him Fears, Keep you but close Order, and then, We will give him the Rout, Be he never so stout, And prepare for his Rallying agen.

Let's drain the whole Cellar, Pipes, Buts, and the Dweller, If the Wine floats not the faster; _Will_, when thou do'st slack us, By Warrant from _Bacchus_, We will Cane thy Tun-belly'd Master.

_The Good_ FELLOW.

[Music]

A Pox on the Times, Let 'em go as they will, Tho' the Taxes are grown so heavy; Our Hearts are our own, And shall be so still, Drink about, my Boys, and be merry: Let no Man despair, But drive away Care, And drown all our Sorrow in Claret; We'll never repine, So they give us good Wine, Let 'em take all our Dross, we can spare it.