Stay, stay, the nurse is waked, the child does cry, The cradle's rocked, the child is hushed again, This clashing does but show That, as in music, so in love must be Sing, sing! When crickets sing why should not we? The crickets were merry before us; They sung us thanks ere we made them a fire. They taught us to sing in a chorus: The chimney's their church, the oven their quire. Once more the cock cries cock-a-doodle-doo ! The owl cries o'er the barn, to-whit-to-whoo! Benighted travellers now lose their way Whom Will-of-the-wisp bewitches: About and about he leads them astray Through bogs, through hedges and ditches. Hark! hark! the cloister bell is rung! Alas! the midnight dirge is sung. Let 'em ring, Let 'em sing, Whilst we spend the night in love and in laughter; When night is gone, O then too soon The discords and cares of the day come after. Come boys! a health, a health, a double health To those who 'scape from care by shunning wealth. Despatch it away Before it be day, 'Twill quickly grow early when it is late: A health to thee, To him, to me, To all who beauty love, and business hate! 64 THE EPICURE LET us drink and be merry, dance, joke, and rejoice, With claret and sherry, theorbo and voice! All treasure's uncertain, then down with your dust: In frolics dispose your pounds, shillings, and pence, For we shall be nothing a hundred year hence! We'll kiss and be free with Nan, Betty, and Dolly, Have lobsters and oysters to cure melancholy: Fish-dinners will make a lass spring like a flea, Dame Venus, love's goddess, was born of the sea: With her and with Bacchus we'll tickle the sense, For we shall be past it a hundred year hence! 1 Your most beautiful bit, who hath all eyes upon her, That her honesty sells for a hogo of honour, Whose lightness and brightness doth shine in such splendour That none but the stars are thought fit to attend her, Though now she seems pleasant and sweet to the sense, Will be damnable mouldy a hundred year hence ! Then why should we turmoil in cares and in fears, Turn all our tranquillity to sighs and tears? Let's eat, drink, and play till the worms do corrupt us, 'Tis certain-Post mortem est nulla voluptas! Let's deal with our damsels, that we may from thence Have broods to succeed us a hundred year hence! The usurer that in the hundred takes twenty, Who wants in his wealth, and doth pine in his plenty, Lays up for a season which he shall ne'er see, The year of One thousand, eight hundred and three: His wit and his wealth, his law, learning, and sense Shall be turned into nothing a hundred year hence! Your Chancery-lawyer, who by conscience thrives, In spinning of suits to the length of three lives; Such suits which the clients do wear out in slavery, Whilst pleader makes conscience a cloak for his knavery; May boast of subtilty i' th' present tense, Your most Christian Mounsieur who rants it in riot, Not suffering his more Christian neighbours live quiet; Whose numberless legions that to him belongs Consists of more nations than Babel has tongues: Though num'rous as dust, in despite of defence, Shall all lie in ashes a hundred year hence! We mind not the counsels of such bloody elves, Let us set foot to foot, and be true to our selves; Our honesty from our good-fellowship springs, We aim at no selfish preposterous things. We'll seek no preferment by subtle pretence, Since all shall be nothing a hundred year hence! THOMAS JORDAN (1612?-1685). 65 A CATCH ROYAL LET the drawer run down; And hang'd up for a Roundhead, This beer-bowl of Canary, I'll pledge't a carouse were it ten; THOMAS JORDAN. 66 HERE'S a health unto his Majesty, With a fal-la-la-la-la-la-la, And he that will not drink his health, G With a fal-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la! |