And if sad thoughts arise,
He does only devise

With sack to repel 'um.
Though the times do turn round,
He doth still keep his ground,

Both in a republic and realm.

He wears his own head and ears,
And he tipples in safety with 's peers,
And harmlessly passeth his time;

If he meet with a cross,

A full bowl he doth toss,

Nor his wealth nor his wit are his crime. He doth privately sit

With his friend clubbing wit,

And disburd'ning their breasts
Of some innocent jests,

And not higher doth climb.
He smiles at the fate

Of those courters of state,

That fall down 'cause their thoughts are sublime.

But princes and nobles are still,

Not tenants for life, but at will,

And the giddy-brain'd rout is their lord; He that's crowned to-day,

A sceptre to sway,

And by all is obey'd and ador'd,

Both he and his crown

In a trice are thrown down,
For an act just and good,
If mis-understood

Or an ill-relish'd word;
While he that scorns pelf,
And enjoys his own self,

Is secure from the vote or the sword.

I'll ne'er admire

That fatuous fire,

That is not what it seems;

For those, that now to us seem higher,
Like painted bubbles blown i' th' air,
By boys seem glorious and fair,

'Tis but in boys' esteems.

Rule of itself's a toil, and who would bear it,
But that 'twixt pride and avarice

And close revenge they'll share it.

Since all the world is but a stage,
And every man a player,

They're fools that lives or states engage;
Let's act and juggle as others do,
Keep what's our own, get others' too,

Play whitler, clown, or mayor.

For he that sticks to what his heart calls just, Becomes a sacrifice and prey

To the prosperous whirligig's lust.

Each wise man first best loves himself,
Lives close, thinks, and obeys,
Makes not his soul a slave to's pelf,
Nor idle squanders if away,

To cram their maws that taxes lay:
On what he does or says:

So that now we must venture to drink 'em by

But we've found out a way that's beyond all their
To keep up good fellowship still; [thinking,
We'll drink their destruction that would destroy
drinking,

Let 'em vote that a health if they will
Those men that did fight,

And did pray day and night

For the parliament and its attendant,
Did make all that bustle

The king out to jostle,

And bring in the independent,

But now we all clearly see what was the end on't.

Now their idol's thrown down, with their sooterkin

also,

About which they did make such a pother;

And tho' their contrivance made one king to fall so, We have drunk ourselves into another.

And now (my lads!) we
May still cavaliers be,

In spite of committee's frown;
We will drink, and we'll sing,

And each health to our king,
Shall be royally drunk in the crown,

Which shall be the standard in every town.

Those politic would-bes do but show themselves
That other men's calling invade,

We only converse with pots and with glasses,
Let the rulers alone with their trade.
The lion of the Tower

Their estates does devour,

Without showing law for't or reason;

Into prison we get,

For the crime called debt,

[asses,

660

SATISFACTION.

I HAVE often heard men say,

That the philosophers of old,

Though they were good, and grave and gray,

Did various opinions hold, And with idolatry adore

The gods, that themselves had made before,

And we that are fools du do no more.

Every man desires what's good;

But wherein that good consists

Is not by any understood.

This sets on work both pens and fist, For this condemns what that approves, And this man doth hate what that man loves. And that's the grand rule that discord moves.

This would valiant be, that wise,

That's for th' sea, and this for land;
All do judge upon surmise,

None do rightly understand.
These may be like, but are not that;
Something there is that all drive at,
But only they differ about the WHAT.

And from all these several ends
Springs diversity of action;
For every man his studies bends,

As opinion builds his faction:

Each man's his own god-smith; what he
Thinks good, is good to him; and we
First make, then adore our deity.
A mind that's honest, pure, and just,
A sociable life and free,

A friend that dares not break a trust,
Yet dares die if occasion be;
A heart that dictates to the tongue,
A soul that's innocent and strong,
That can, yet will not, do any wrong.
He that has such a soul and a mind,
That is so blest and so inclin'd,
What all these do seek for, he does find.

THE CLUB.

PR'YTHEE, ben't so sad and serious,
Nothing got by grief or care;

Melancholy's too imperious,

Where it comes 'twill domineer.

If thou hast a cloudy breast,

In which thy cares would build a nest,

Then drink good sack, 'twill make thee rest, Where sorrows come not near.

Be it business, love, or sorrow,

That possesses thus thy mind, Bid them come again to morrow,

We are now to mirth inclin'd.
Fill thy cup, and drown them all,
Sorrows still do for liquor call;
We'll make this Bacchus' festival,
And cast our cares behind.

He that has a heart that's drowsy,
Shall be surely banish'd hence;
We'll shun him as a man that's lousy,
He's of dangerous consequence.
And he that's silent like a block,
Deserves to be made a laughingstock?
Let all good fellows shun that rock,
For fear they forfeit sense.

Still those clocks, let time attend us,
We'll not be to hours coufin'd;
We'll banish all that may offend us,

Or disturb our mirth design'd:
Let the glass still run its round,
And each good fellow keep his ground;
And if there be any flincher foun?,
We'll have his soul new coin'd.

THE PRODICAL.

NAY, persuade not, I've swore
We'll have one pottle more,
Though we run on the score,

And, our credits do stretch for't.
To what end does a father
Pine his body, or rather,

Damn his soul for to gather

Such store, but that he has this fetch fort
That we sons should be high, boys,
And make it all fly, boys;

And when he does die, boys,

Instead of a sermon, we'll sing him a catch fort
Then hang the dull wit
Of that white-liver'd cit,
That good fellows does hit
In teeth with a red nose;
May his nose look blue,
Or any dreadfuller hue,

That may speak him untrue,

And disloyal unto the head nose;
'Tis the scarlet that graces,
And sets out our faces,

And that nature base is,

That esteems not a copper nose more than a leat

All the world keeps a round,
First our fathers abound
In wealth, and buy ground,

And then leave it behind 'em;

We're straight put in black,

Where we mourn and drink sack,

And do t'other knack;

While they sleep in their graves we ne'er Thus we scatter the store,

As they rak'd it before;

And as for the poor,

[mind 'em:

(them

We enrich them as fast as our father did grind

THE ANTI-POLITICIAN.

COME, leave thy care, and love thy friend,
Live freely, don't despair;

Of getting money there's no end,
And keeping it breeds care.
If thou hast money at thy need,
Good company, and good wine;
His life, whose joys on wealth do feed,
's not half so sweet as thine.

I can enjoy myself and friends,
Without design or fear;
Below their envy, or base ends,
That politicians are.

I neither toil, nor care, nor grieve,
To gather, keep, or lose ;
With freedom and consent I live,
And what's my own l`use.

Underneath their loads they'd groan,

While men blown on with strong desires

Of riches or renown,

Though ne'er so high, would still be higher, So tumble headlong down.

For princes' smiles turn oft to frowns,

And favours fade each hour;
He that to day heaps towns on towns,
To morrow's clapp'd i' th' Tower

All that we get by all our store,

's but honour or dominion;

The one's but trouble varnish'd o'er,

And t'other's but opinion.

Fate rules the roast, times always change, 'Tis fancy builds all things;

How madly then our minds do range,

Since all we grasp hath wings.

Those empty terms of rich and poor,
Comparison hath fram'd;

He hath not much that covers more:
Want is but will nicknam'd.
If I can safely think and live,

And freely laugh or sing,
My wealth I'll not for Cræsus give,
Nor change lives with a king.

That bring and keep both fools and knaves in fa

We make each other proud and knavish;

For wherever we

Great abundance chance to see,

There we fling both power and honour,
As if wealth were the only donor;

And our natures are so slavish,
That we tamely will submit
All our reason, strength, and wit,
And pay and pray

Great men in power, that they

Will take our liberty and trample on her.

What is't makes all men so much covet, Toiling more and more

To increase a needless store,

So violently tug and haul for't,
Venturing body, soul, and all, for't?

The rich are flatter'd, and they love it:

We obey their shalls and musts;

And to gratify their lusts,

We madly strive

Who first ourselves shall give

Or with shame would throw them down, And live as free

From needless cares as we,

[choly,

Slight pomp and wealth, that makes men melan

Pray what are all these gaudy bubbles,

That so boast and rant

Of what they think they have, but ha'n't?
But men that had the luck of living,
And made others' fall their thriving,
Hailstones got in storms of troubles,
That for valour are as fit

For knights, as to be squires for wit,
Inspired with pride,

Did what good men defy'd,

Grown great by Protean turning and conniving.
That man that would have me adore him
With my heart, he must

Be noble, pow'rful, wise, and just,

And improve his parts and power
To support, not to devour;

Nor pride nor lust must e'er rule o'er him
The bugbear greatness, without this,
An idle, empty pageant is:

He that doth rise,

And is not good and wise,

I honour not, but pity and deplore him.

THE CHEERFUL HEART.

WHAT tho' these ill times do go cross to our will, And Fortune still frowns upon us,

Our hearts are our own, and they shall be so still, A pin for the plagues they lay on us.

Let us take t'other cup,

To keep our hearts up,

And let it be purest Canary;

We'll ne'er shrink or care
For the crosses we bear,

Let 'em plague us until they be weary.

What tho' we are made both beggars and slaves, Let us stoutly endure it, and drink on:

"Tis our comfort we suffer, 'cause we will not be

knaves,

Our redemption will come ere we think on't.

We must flatter and fear

Those that over us are,

And make 'em believe that we love 'em ;
When their tyranny's past,

We will serve them at last,

As they serv'd those that have been above 'em.

The Levites do preach for the goose and the pig,
To drink wine but at Christmas and Easter;
The doctor doth labour our lives to new-rig,
And makes Nature to fast, but we feast her;
The lawyer doth bawl

Out his lungs and his gall,

For the plaintiff aud for the defendant;

At books the scholar lies

Till by flatus he dies,

If we did take no notice of them,

Like not, nor applaud,

Their spoils obtain'd by force and fraud,
But would live content and jolly,
Laughing at their painful folly,
And would neither fear nor love them,

But here's to the man that delights in sol fa, 'Tis sack is his only rosin;

A load of heigh-hos are not worth a ha, ha; He's the man for my money that draws in Come, a pin for this muck,

And a fig for ill luck,