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REACH not to me your musly rules,
Ye drones that mould in

idle cell ;
The heart is wiser than the schools,

The senses always reason well.


If short my span, 1 less can spare

To pass a single pleasure by ;
An hour is long, if loft in care ;

They only live, who life enjoy.

S 0 N G XII. +


now, all



Shed your influence o'er us;
Crown with joy, the present hours,

Enliven those before us.

Bring the flask, the music bring.

Joy shall quickly find us ;
Drink, and dance, and laugh, and fing;

And cast dull care behind us.

Love thy godhead I adore,

Source of generous passion ;
But will ne'er bow down before

Those idols wealth or fashion,
Bring the flak, &c.

* In his excellent alteration of the Masque of Comu, of Altered and from the finale of Bickerftaffs School for Father.


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Bring the flak, the music bring,

Joy shall quickly find us ;
Drink, and dance, and laugh, and sing,

And cast dull care behind us.




HAT Cato advises most certainly wise is,

Not always to labour, but sometimes to play, To mingle sweet pleasure with search after treasure,

Indulging at night for the toils of the day: 1 And while the dull miser esteems himself wiser,

His bags to increase, while his health does decay, Dur souls we enlighten, our fancies we brighten, And pass the long evenings in pleasure away.



All chearful and hearty, we set aside party,

With some tender fair the bright bumper is crown'd; Thus Bacchus invites us, and Venus delights us,

While care in an ocean of claret is drown'd: See, here's our physician, we know no ambition,

But where there's good wine and good company found; Thus happy together, in spite of all weather, 'Tis sunshine and summer with us the





F gold could lengthen life, I swear,

It then should be my chiefest care,
To get a heap, that I might say,
When death came to demand his

Thou slave, take this, and go thy way.

But since life is not to be bought,
Why should I plague myself for nought ;
O: foolishly disturb the skies
With vain complaints, or fruitless cries?
For if the fatal deftinies
Have all decreed it shall be so,
What good will gold or crying do?

Give me, to ease my thirsty soul,
The joys and comforts of the bowl ;
Freedom and health, and whilft I live,
Let me not want what love can give :
Then shall I die in peace, and have
This consolation in the grave,
That once I had the world







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ET us drink and be merry,

Dance, joke, and rejoice,
With claret and Sherry,

Theorboe and voice :
The changeable world

To our joy is unjust,
All treasure's uncertain,
Then down with


In frolics dispose

Your pounds, shillings, and pence,
For we shall be nothing

An hundred years hence.

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We'll kiss and be free

With Moll, Betty, and Nelly,
Have oysters and lobsters,

And maids by the belly.
Fish dinners will make

A lass spring like a flea;
Dame Venus, loves goddess,

Was born of the sea :
With Bacchus and her

We'll tickle the sense,
For we shall be past it

An hundred years hence.

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Your most beautiful bit,

That hath all eyes upon her, That her honesty sells

For a hogoe of honour, Whose lightness and brightness

Doth fine in such fplendour, That none bns the stars

Are thought fit to attend her ; Though now she be pleasant,

And sweet to the sense, Will be damnable mouldy

An hundred years hence.

The usurer, that

In the hundred takes twenty, Who wants in his wealth,

And pines in his plenty ; Lays up for a season

Which he shall ne'er fee, The

year one thousand Eight hundred and three : His wit, and his wealth,

His learning, and sense, Shall be turned to nothing

An hundred years hence.

Your Chancery-lawyers,

Whofe fubtilety thrives, In spinning out suits

To the length of three lives ;


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