The Treasury of Musick :: :: University of Virginia Library

In love? Away, You do me wrong,
I hope I ha' not liv'd so long
Free from the treach'ry of your Eyes,
Now to be caught and made a prize:
No, Lady, 'tis not all your Art
Can make me and my freedome part.

II

In Love! 'tis true, with Spanish wine,
Or the French juice Incarnadine,
But truly not with your sweet face,
This dimple, or that hidden grace;
Ther's far more sweetnesse in pure wine,
Then in those lips or eyes of thine.

III

Your god you say can shoot so right
Hee'l wound a heart i'th darkest night;
Pray let him throw away a dart,
And try if he can hit my heart:
No Cupid, if I shall be thine,
Turn Ganimed, and fill us wine.

Come fil's a cup of Sherry,
And let us be merry,
There shall nought but pure wine,
Make us love-sick or pine;
Wee'l hug the cup and kiss it,
Wee'l sigh when e're we miss it,
For 'tis that that makes us jolly,
And sing Hy trolly lolly.