- The hott Græcian did misse,
Of whom History's keep such a pother,
- To the bottom he sunk,
- And when one he had drunk
Grew maudlin, and wept for another.
THE BARGAIN
A Song in dialogue between Bacchus and Cupid
Cupid
Bacchus, to thee that turn'st the brain,
And doest o're mighty punch bowls reign,
Enthron'd upon thy lusty barrell,
I drink, to drown the ancient quarrell;
And mortalls shall no more dispute
Which of us two, is absolute.
Bacchus
I pledge thee Archer, nor disdain
To own thou over hearts doest reign,
But tears thou drink'st, drawn from low courage,
And cool'd with sighs, instead of burrage ;
Were that errour once ammended,
All, might in Champaine be ended.
Cupid
I am content, so we may joyn,
To mix my waters, with thy wine ;
Then henceforth farwell all defying,
And thus, we'll still be found complying,
He, that's in love, shall fly to thee,
And he thats drunk, shall reel to mee.