 | Christmas, his Masque |  |
Chr.
Well done Boyes, my fine Boyes, my bully Boyes.
The Epilogue.
Nor
doe you thinke that their legges is all
the commendation of my Sons,
For at the Artillery-Garden they shall
as well (forsooth) use their Guns.
the commendation of my Sons,
For at the Artillery-Garden they shall
as well (forsooth) use their Guns.
And march as fine, as the Muses nine,
along the streets of London:
And i'their brave tires, to gi'their false fires,
especially Tom my Son.
along the streets of London:
And i'their brave tires, to gi'their false fires,
especially Tom my Son.
Now if the Lanes and the Allyes afford,
such an ac-ativitie as this:
At Christmas next, if they keepe their word,
can the children of Cheapside misse?
such an ac-ativitie as this:
At Christmas next, if they keepe their word,
can the children of Cheapside misse?
Though, put the case, when they come in place,
they should not dance, but hop:
Their very gold lace, with their silke would 'em grace,
having so many knights, o'the Shop!
they should not dance, but hop:
Their very gold lace, with their silke would 'em grace,
having so many knights, o'the Shop!
But were I so wise, I might seeme to advise
so great a Potentate as your selfe:
They should Sir, I tell yee, spar't out o'their bellie,
and this way spend some of their pelfe.
so great a Potentate as your selfe:
They should Sir, I tell yee, spar't out o'their bellie,
and this way spend some of their pelfe.
I, and come to the Court, for to make you some sport,
at the least once every yeare:
As Christmas hath done, with his seventh or eight Son,
and his couple of Daughters deare.
at the least once every yeare:
As Christmas hath done, with his seventh or eight Son,
and his couple of Daughters deare.
The End.
| Christmas, his Masque | |