A CATCH .

Give the toast — my good fellow, be jovial and gay,
And let the brisk moments pass jocund away!
Here's the King — take your bumpers, my brave British souls,
Who guards your fair freedom should crown your full bowls;
Let him live — long and happy, see Lewis brought down,
And taste all the comforts, no cares of a crown.

Blondes Bier und blondes Brot
machen den Junggesellen die Backen rot,
blondes Geld und blonde Zopfe
aber verdrehen ihnen die Kopfe

Emblem Amours Sigillum

Mans hart lockt up within his secret Brest
Cannot by Tongue or Gesture be exprest
For what's of soe great worth we must suppose
It is a work of Power to disclose
Such Harts as make Men faithfull and upright
Are those at once both face and mind unite.

Like to the grey-ey'd Morn, your sparkling eyes
Dart lustre, while a sable clothes the skies.
And your white teeth resemble th' milky way,
The glory of the night, and th' shame of day,
Complain not then Nigrina of thy white,
Since stars shine brightest in the blackest night.

While Juvenal 'gainst Vices doth declaim,
He Vice gives birth, which else had lost a name.

May Ovids books like him exiled die;
Lusts breath's infectious is in Poetry.

Tibullus, Gallus , and Propertius be
Froth'd like Loves Goddesse out of vanity.
These to Lusts Idols do but Altars rear,
And kindle flames of hell while we are here.

Nor are the Latines more; the Æneiads be
But Iliads ; in' Georgicks Hesiods Plagiarie :
In his Bucolicks own's Theocritus Muse:
For other faults, time, and his death excuse.
But while he Dido wrong'd with falser fire,
His verse deserv'd the flames he did desire.

Evnica laughs at me, who'd kisse in vain:
Cupid stings men, by Bees is stung again.
A fool may sometimes opportunely speak;
Each fool may shew this without reading Greek.
While that Pedants thus trifle time in trash,
They for their faults, not boyes deserve the lash.

Nor can th' straw-gatherers of Egypt fit,
Us from their Poets more then vulgar wit.
Virtue with sweat's attain'd set on a hill,
Beggers wish beggers; potters potters ill.
Bad counsel's worst to him who doth it give;
We're born of Gods: it is by them we live.
The mean's above the whole: See Hesiods flowers;
Are these like th' gardens water'd by heav'ns showers?