Ayres and dialogues For One, Two, and Three Voyces; To be Sung either to the theorbo-lute or basse-viol |
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The Cheat.
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26
The Cheat.
[I]
Whit a Pox dost thou muse on? Boy, give us the Wine,The Saint in that shrine
Must not be prophan'd;
The persecuted Sack is
The thing we do lack,
Whose Auspicious slight,
Makes our heads and hearts light,
That the fear of her loss had er'st ty'd up and chain'd.
II
Not a Relique of her but we ought to adore,And prize it before
Those Tell-tales of Time;
True, Ellen and Lucy
Were Saints, but not Juicy;
And Winifreds-Well
Bears no sound of a Spell;
If it had, some had written her Acts more sublim.
III
Know the Time will come, Sirrah, as it was of yore,A Dram and no more
Must serve such a Clown;
Let then hes welcome ring-Boys;
'Tis her flight bring us joy Boys,
Whose Patience is such
She doth not care how much
We of her do consume, be but true to the Crown.
IV
'Tis the flavour of this makes the Miter to stand,The Crown to comand,
The Mare-maid to sing;
Makes the Motes in the Sun
Like to Ganimeds run,
The Fleece-Coats with Gold,
And the Seaven Stars uphold,
'Tis her Influence makes the Twelve Houses to ring.
V
Then drink, fall, and adore her, 'tis fit we shoul beMore humble then she
Hath travel'd for us;
Let's the Convoy then bless,
And the Merchant no less,
To'th Vintner a Health
Who from them got by Stealth,
This Jem, with intension to barter with us.
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