Ayres and dialogues :: :: University of Virginia Library

Ioyn thy enamell'd Cheek to mine,
I'le bring thee where is Rasie Wine;
And where a loving Leagur's kept,
Where many Tankard tears are wept
For the Cash
That is gon: That is here;
Joy and grief, in a Tear
We will wash.
There we studie Revenges.
Make plots without hinges.
More black then the fifth of November's.
With Pipe, Pot, and Cup,
Our Estates we rake up,
Till our Eyes do appear like the Embers.

II

There with a Sack-incensed Face,
In speckled State and flaming Grace,
With dabbl'd Doublet doth appear
The Corall front of Caveleer
With a Bole:
Full of Sack, such as can
In the most dying man
Raise a Soul.

And forbids any venter
The Leagure to enter,
Or neer it commit such a Trespass;
If his Cheeks do not shine,
With the bloud of the Vine,
And his Nostrils do look like a Respass.

III

In Fletcher's Wit, and Johnson's Style,
There we will sit and fret a while;
Cursing the puddle of their Brains
That pull'd down Grapes, and put up Grains;
They are Foes
Who with Bag-pipes for Shalmes,
Deal in smal Beer and Psalmes
Through the Nose;
May want of drink grieve them,
And no man releive them,
Till scorhing inform them what Hell is;
May Howns-ditch, and Tower-ditch,
With Shore-ditch, and More-ditch,
Be empt'ed to fill up their Bellies.

IV

May all the Ills that can be thought
Either to heavy or to hot
Light on his Belly and his Back,
That envies us the joys of Sack:
Let him dye;
Or let him live with so much strife,
That he may beg to lose his life,
Till he cry
Good fellows forgive me;
If you will beleive me,
I swear by the Sword of a Lay-man,
I'le draw out my Whyneard,
And set up the Vineyard,
In spight of the Devil and Drayman.