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BY THOMAS MORTON

Drinke and be merry, merry, merry boyes; Let all your delight be in the Hymens joyes;

Joy to Hymen, now the day is come, About the merry Maypole take a Roome.

Make greene garlons, bring bottles out And fill sweet Nectar freely about. Uncover thy head and feare no harme, For hers good liquor to keepe it warme. Then drinke and be merry, etc. Joy to Hymen, etc.

Nectar is a thing assign'd

By the Dieties owne minde

To cure the hart opprest with greife, And of good liquors is the cheife. Then drinke, etc.

Joy to Hymen, etc.

Give to the Mellancolly man

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A cup or two of 't now and than; This physick will soone revive his bloud, And make him be of a merrier moode. 20 Then drinke, etc.

In ending warrs 'tween Subjects and their Kings,

Great things are sav'd, by losing little things.

The crazy world will crack, in all the middle joynts,

If all the ends it hath, have not their parapoynts.

The body beares the head, the head the Crown,

If both beare not alike, then one will down.

Subjects their King, the King his Subjects greets,

Whilome the Scepter and the Ploughstaffe meets.

A peace well made, is likeliest then to hold,

When 'tis both dearly bought and dearly sold.

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King Charles will joyn himself to bitter Griefe

Then joyne to God, and prove a Godly Chiefe.

They that at stake their Crownes and Honours set,

Play lasting games, if Lust or Guilt doe bet.

Grace will dissolve, but rigour hardens guilt:

Break not with Steely blows, what oyle should melt.

In Breaches integrant, 'tween Principalls. of States,

Due Justice may suppresse, but Love redintegrates.

COUNTRY HOBNAILS

There, lives cannot be good,
There, Faith cannot be sure,
Where Truth cannot be quiet,
Nor Ordinances pure.

No King can King it right,

Nor rightly sway his Rod;
Who truely loves not Christ,
And truely fears not God.

He cannot rule a Land,
As Lands should ruled been,
That lets himself be rul'd
By a ruling Romane Queen.

No earthly man can be

True Subject to this State; Who makes the Pope his Christ, An Heretique his Mate.

There Peace will go to War,

And Silence make a noise:
Where upper things will not
With nether equipoyse.

The upper World shall Rule,
While Stars will run their race:
The nether World obey,
While People keep their place.

The Clench

If any of these come out

So long's the World doe last Then credit not a word

Of what is said and past.

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