Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy Volume VI Part 21

A Fig for the _Spaniard_, and for the King of _France_, And Heaven preserve our Juggs, and Muggs, and Q----n from all mischance, And a Toping, _&c._

Against the Presbyterians, pray give me leave to rail, Who ne'er had thirsted for Kings Blood, had they been Drunk with stale, And a Toping, _&c._

And against the Low-church Saints, who slily play their part, Who rail at the Dissenters, yet love them in their Heart, And a toping, _&c._

Here's a Health to the Queen, let's b.u.mpers take in hand, And may Prince _G----'s_ Roger grow stiff again and stand, And a Toping, _&c._

Oh how we toss about the never-failing Cann, We drink and p.i.s.s, and p.i.s.s and drink, and drink to p.i.s.s again And a Toping, _&c._

Oh that my Belly it were a Tun of stall, My c.o.c.k were turn'd into a Tap, to run when I did call, And a Toping, _&c._

Of all sorts of Topers, a Soph is far the best, For 'till he can neither go nor stand, by _Jove_ he's ne'er at rest, And a Toping, _&c._

We fear no Wind or Weather, when good Liquor dwells within, And since a Soph does live so well, then who would be a King, And a Toping, _&c._

Then dead Drunk We'll march Boys, and reel into our Tombs, That Jollier Sophs (if such their be) may come and take our rooms, Sir And a Toping may they go, _&c._

_Sir_ JOHN JOHNSON'S _Farewell, by_ JO. HAINS.

[Music]

All Christians that have Ears to hear, And Hearts inclin'd to pity; Some of you all bestow one Tear, Upon my mournful Ditty: In _Queen-street_ did an Heiress live, Whose downfall when I sing; 'Twill make the very Stones to grieve, G.o.d prosper long our King.

For her a _Scotish_ Knight did die, Was ever the like seen; I shame to tell place, how, or why, And so G.o.d bless the Queen: Some say indeed she swore a Rape, But G.o.d knows who was wrong'd; For he that did it did escape, And he did not was Hang'd.

Some say another thing beside, If true? it was a Vice; That _Campbell_ when she was his Bride, Did trouble her but thrice: 'Twas this the young Girls Choler mov'd, And in a Rage she swore; E'er she'd be a Wife but three times lov'd, She'd sooner be a Wh.o.r.e.

But don't you pity now her Case, Was forc'd to send for Surgeon, To show the Man that very place, Where once she was a Virgin.

Parents take warning by her fall, When Girls are in their Teens; To marry them soon, or they will all, Know what the Business means.

For Girls like Nuts (Excuse my Rhimes) At bottom growing brown; If you don't gather them betimes, Will of themselves fall down: G.o.d bless King _William_, and Queen _Mary_, And Plenty and Peace advance; And hang up those wish the contrary, And then a Fig for _France_.

_A_ SONG, _Set by Mr._ KING.

Banish my _Lydia_ these sad Thoughts, Why sets thou musing so; To hear the Ugly rail at faults, They wou'd, they wou'd, but cannot do: For let the Guilt be what it will.

So small, so small Account they bear; That none yet thought it worth their while, On such, on such to be severe, On such, on such to be severe.

With far more reason thou may'st pine, Thy self for being Fair; For hadst thou but less Glorious been, Thou of no Faults wou'dst hear: So the great light that s.h.i.+nes from far, Has had its Spots set down; While many a little useless Star, Has not been tax'd with one.

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ HENRY PURCELL.

[Music]

Love's Pow'r in my Heart shall find no Compliance, I'll stand to my Guard, and bid open Defiance: To Arms I will muster my Reason and Senses, _Ta ra ra ra, Ta ra ra ra_, a War now commences.

Keep, keep a strict Watch, and observe ev'ry Motion, Your Care to his Cunning exactly proportion; Fall on, he gives ground, let him never recover, _Victoria! Victoria!_ the Battle is over.

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ JAMES HART.

[Music]

Honest Shepher'd, since you're poor, Think of loving me no more, Take Advice in time, Give o're your Solicitations: Nature does in vain dispense, To your Vertue, Courage, Sense, Wealth can only influence, A Woman's Inclinations.

What fond Nymph can e'er be kind, To a Swain, but rich in Mind, If as well she does not find Gold within his Coffers?

Gold alone does Scorn remove, Gold alone incites to Love, Gold can most perswasive prove, And make the fairest offers.

_The_ SHEPHERD'S _Wooing of Fair_ DULCINA.

[Music]

As at Noon _Dulcina_ rested, In her sweet and shady Bow'r, Came a Shepherd and requested, In her Lap to sleep an Hour; But from her look a Wound he took, So deep that for a further Boon, The Swain he prays, whereto she says, Forgo me now, come to me soon.

But in vain she did conjure him, For to leave her Presence so; Having a thousand means to allure him, And but one to let him go: Where Lips invite, and Eyes delight, And Cheeks as fresh as Rose in _June_, Perswades to stay, what boot to say, Forgo me now, come to me soon.

Words whose Hoops have now injoyned, Him to let _Dulcina_ sleep; Could a Man's Love be confined, Or a Maid her promise keep?

No, for her Wast he held her fast, As she was constant to her Tune; And she speaks, for _Cupid's_ sake Forgo me, _&c._

He demands what time and leisure, Can there be more fit than now; She says Men may say their Pleasure, Yet I of it do not allow: The Sun's clear light s.h.i.+neth more bright, Quoth he, more fairer than the Moon: For her to praise, she loves, she says, Forgo me, _&c._

But no Promise, nor Profession, From his Hands could Purchase scope; Who would sell the sweet Possession, Of such Beauty for a hope; Or for the sight of lingring Night, Forgo the pleasant Joys of Noon, Tho' none so fair, her Speeches were, Forgo me, _&c._

Now at last agreed these Lovers, She was Fair, and he was Young, If you'll believe me I will tell you, True love fixed lasteth long: He said my dear and only Phear, Bright Ph[oe]bus Beams out-s.h.i.+n'd the Moon; _Dulcina_ prays, and to him says, Forgo me now, come to me soon.

_The Second Part._

Day was spent and Night approached, _Venus_ fair was Lovers Friend, She intreated bright _Apollo_, That his Steeds their Race should end: He could not say the G.o.ddess nay, But granted Love's fair Queen her boon; The Shepherd came to his fair Dame, Forgo me now, come to me soon.