Classic Poem

Your Letter found us at good Clarret,
Such as you should be at, or are at
The lines were good; but that I wonder,
As much as at a bladders thunder,
That you who are not us'd to preach,
That never to that art could reach,
Your letter should so well divide,
Into the first, third, second, head
Prithee tell me, just then came ye,
Before you writ, from your C.
Or hadst thou heard some Independent,
First it, and thirdly it, till no end on't?
Thirdly from you is as ill sounded,
As Mass delivered by a roundhead.
Or if your old Recorder should
Try to speak Latine that is good
Drink the first head, you wisely laid,
Drink alwayes gets into the head
Drink in plain silly troth you had,
As strong as hop, or furnace made,
Such as our Sophisters do take,
When they old Latine jests would break
Such as if your Clients drink,
Of law suites they would never think.
Such as with Beef, and mutton were
Enough to make you Knight o'th' shire
But that it comes not you may thank
Your Thames which swell'd above its bank
I think the London Brewers plot
To encrease the Thames , that we should not,
By our sublime and noble Beer,
Shame all their puddle liquor there
So great the flood here, that the people
Were woundrous fraid for your Pauls steeple.
Least we should hear next Almanack,
How London Bridge did fall or shake.
Least it Westminster hall should drown,
And then no place should there be found,
Where men their gold and silver may
Upon the Lawyers throw away
But stay, it may be all is lost,
Broke by the ice, or stop'd by frost
Perchance the Boatmen let it run,
Which either of us would have done
It may be they drew out the Vessel,
To cheer themselves at merry Wassail
Perchance the Barrell in the way
Did fall upon an holyday.
Upon a Revell or a wedding,
Or else, it may be, it call'd at Redding ;
Where the bold rout did rant of late,
As if they drunk such beer as that
But if at last it there arrive,
Drink it out while 'tis alive,
Let not old Gossips of it tast,
When they do praise their husbands last;
When they tell stories, and do cry
For their poor babe that last did dye
Nor it to Country Clients give,
When thou dost fees from them receive.
But make a fire and send about,
For all thy Friends the merry rout.
Fetch out the bowl and drink it up,
And think on him that fill'd the cup
Your next is money, which I promise,
Full fifty pounds alas the summe is,
That too shall quickly follow, if
It can be rais'd from Strong or Tiffe .
Pray pray that each moneth we may choose
New Members for the commons house.
Pray that our Act may last all year,
That we may sooner spend our Beer
Pray that the Schollars may drink faster,
And larger cups then they did last year
Pray heav'n to take away th'Excise,
Pray I say with weeping eyes:
Pray our malt grow good and cheap,
And then of mony expect an heap
For Poems; Tom desires me tell ye,
He minds not now his feet, but belly
He must for Pulpit now prepare,
Or make bills for Apothecar —
Y'and leave off these barren toyes
Which feed not, only make a noyse
Yet he would faign from you receive,
What your more happy Muse did give
Which made Protectors love to hear,
Though themselves wounded by them were
Songs, which are play'd on every tongue,
And make a Christmas when they're sung
Thus wishing you much mirth and wit,
As the Lord Mayor doth speak and spit
Wishing and praying till I'm weary,
That you may drink the best Canary
And that you may have Clients many,
And talk in Guildhall wise as any,
That the rich Londoners may fall out,
And go to Law till money's all out,
That every Citizen hate his Neighbour,
As his wife doth Pope and Tyber
That the grave Alderman love no man,
More then they did the Prayer-common
That Quarrels long may thence be spun
About a Whistle or a Spoon,
That th'itch of law may infect all London
Till you are rich, and they are undone
That you may keep your good Dame yet here,
Or when she dies may find a better
That two howers prayer and long Sermon,
You may not hear above each terme one
And then your pew may be so easiy,
That you may sleep when e're it please ye
Than when from Tavern late you come,
You misse the watch returning home,
Or if you meet th'unmanner'd rabble,
You may not out wit the Constable