stand to our Arms,
And drink the King's Health in a Mug, a Mug.

Come then to the Queen let the next Advance,
And all Loyal Lads of true _English_ Race;
Who hate the stum Poison of _Spain_ and _France_,
Or to _Bourdeux_ or _Burgundy_ do give place;
The Flask and the Bottle breeds Ach and Gout,
Whilst we, we all the Season lie snug;
Neither _Spaniard_ nor _Flemming_, can vie with our Stout,
And shall submit to the Mug, the Mug.

_The Good Fellow. Words by Mr._ Alex. Brome.

[Music]

Stay, stay, shut the Gates,
T'other Quart, faith, it is not so late
As you're thinking,
Those Stars which you see,
In this Hemisphere be,
But the Studs in your Cheeks by your Drinking:
The Sun is gone to Tiple all Night in the Sea Boys,
To Morrow he'll blush that he's paler than we Boys,
Drink Wine, give him Water, 'tis Sack makes us jee Boys.

Fill, fill up the Glass,
To the next merry Lad let it pass,
Come away with't:
Come Set Foot to Foot,
And but give our Minds to't,
'Tis Heretical Six that doth slay Wit,
No Helicon like to the Juice of the Vine is,
For _Phoebus_ had never had Wit, nor Diviness,
Had his Face been bow dy'd as thine, his, and mine is.

Drink, drink off your Bowls,
We'll enrich both our Heads and our Souls
With Canary;
A Carbuncled Face,
Saves a tedious Race,
For the _Indies_ about us we carry:
Then hang up good Faces, we'll drink till our Noses
Give freedom to speak what our Fancy disposes,
Beneath whose protection is under the Roses.

This, this must go round,
Off your Hats, till that the Pavement be Crown'd
With your Beavers;
A Red-coated Face,
Frights a Searjeant at Mace,
And the Constable trembles to shivers:
In state march our Faces like those of the _Quorum_,
When the Wenches fall down and the Vulgar adore'em,
And our Noses, like Link-boys, run shining before'em.

_The Nymphs Holiday. The Tune of the Nightingale._

[Music]

Upon a Holiday, when Nymphs had leave to play,
I walk'd unseen, on a pleasant Green,
Where I heard a Maid in an angry Spleen,
Complaining to a Swain, to leave his drudging Pain,
And sport with her upon the Plain;
But he the silly Clown,
Regardless of her Moan, did leave her all alone,
Still she cry'd, come away, come away bonny Lad come away,
I cannot come, I will not come, I cannot come, my
Work's not done,
Was all the W