Stothard def Blake pr DRINKING SONGS. PHO SONG I. THE HONEST FELLOW. HO! pox o'this nonfenfe, I prithee give o'er, Their face, and their air, and their mien-what a rout!. Let finical fops play the fool and the ape; 'Tis wine, only wine, that true pleasure bestows; VOL. II. · B 'Tis If Cupid affaults you, there's law for his tricks ; The precedent's glorious, and juft by my foul; What's life but a frolic, a fong, and a laugh? SONG II. "ROUND O." B ETTER our heads than hearts should ake, Loves childish empire we defpife; Good wine of him a flave can make, Wine fweetens all the cares of peace, To loves affliction it gives eafe, Better our heads than hearts fhould ake, And force a lover to be wife. SONG Some the weather, and fome the cocks: But if you'll give me leave to tell, There's nothing can be compar'd fo well, As wine, wine, women and wine, they run in a parallel. Women are witches, when they will, So is wine, fo is wine; They make the statesman lofe his skill, 'Tis wine, wine, women and wine, they run in a parallel. What is't that makes your visage so pale? 'Tis wine will make you fick when you're well; 'Tis women that make your forehead to fwell: 'Tis wine, wine, women and wine, they run in a parallel. THE HE women all tell me I'm false to my lass, That I quit my poor Chloe, and stick to my glass; But to you men of reason, my reasons I'll own; And if you don't like them, why-let them alone. Although I have left her, the truth I'll declare; That make it as good and as charming as fhe. My Chloe had dimples and fmiles, I must own; Did you e'er see a frown in a bumper of wine? Her lilies and rofes were juft in their prime; They tell me my love would in time have been cloy'd, Let murders, and battles, and history prove The mischiefs that wait upon rivals in love; She too might have poifon'd the joy of my life, We We shorten our days when with love we engage, Perhaps, like her fex, ever falfe to their word, Then let my dear Chloe no longer complain; grave. For in wine, mighty wine, many comforts I fpy; Should you doubt what I say, take a bumper and try. SONG V. HE tells me with claret fhe cannot agree, SHE And the thinks of a hogfhead whene'er fhe fees me; For I fmell like a beast, and therefor muft I, Refolve to forfake her, or claret deny. Must I leave my dear bottle, that was always my friend, Muft I leave it for her? 'tis a very hard task: Had she tax'd me with gaming, and bid me forbear, B 3 |