The bumpers fwiftly pafs about, Six in a hand went round; And with their calling for more wine, Now when these merry tidings reach'd And am I (quoth he, with an oath) Saddle my fteed, bring forth my boots, Lo, yonder doth earl Harold come, (Did one at table fay) 'Tis well, reply'd the mettled duke, How will he get away? When thus the earl began, Great duke, One of us two, for this offence, I know thee well, a duke thou art, So fome years hence fhall I. But But trust me, Wharton, pity 'twere So much good wine to fpill, Let thou and I, in bumpers full, To Andrews, and to Hotham fair, When at the laft the duke espy'd He ply'd him with a good pint glass, Who never spoke more words than these, Then, with a groan, duke Philip took And faid, Earl Harold, 'ftead of thee, Would I had drunk this pint. Alack! Alack! my very heart doth bleed, And doth within me fink; For furely a more fober earl With that the fheriff in a rage, Vow'd to revenge the dead-drunk peer Then stepp'd a gallant 'fquie forth, Of vifage thin and pale, Lloyd was his name, and of Gang-hall, Faft by the river Swale : Who faid, he would not have it told, That unconcern'd he should fit by; Now when these tidings reach'd the room Where the duke lay in bed, How that the 'fquire fo.fuddenly O heavy tidings! (quoth the duke) I have not any captain more, Of fuch account as he. Like tidings to earl Harold came, Within as short a space, How that the under-fheriff too, Now god be with him, (faid the earl) - 1 truft I have within my town, Of all the number that were there, Thus did this dire contention end; And each man of the flain, Was quickly carried off to bed, His fenfes to regain. God bless the king, the dutchess fat, And likewife bless our royal prince, The kingdom's other hope: And grant us grace for to defy The devil and the pope. VOL. IV. C MAD I MAD TO M. N my triumphant chariot hurl'd, I range around the world: 'Tis I, Mad Tom, drive all before me; While to my royal throne I come, Bow down, my flaves, and adore me, Your fov'reign lord Mad Tom. I've the pleasure of crowns From beds of straw, And drest in a tatter'd robe, The madman can be More a monarch than he CUPID over-reach'd. OUNG Cupid I find, ' You To fubdue me inclin'd, But at length 1 a ftratagem found, That will rid me of him: For I'll drink to the brim, And unless he can fwim, He like other blind puppies will drown. |