2. You merry Poets[,] old Boyes Of _Aganippes_ Well, Full many tales have told boyes Whose liquor doth excell, And how that place was haunted By those that love good wine; Who tipled there, and chaunted Among the _Muses_ nine: Where still they cry’d[,] drink clear, boyes, And you shall quickly know it, That ’tis not lowzy Beer, boyes, But wine, that makes a Poet. [p. 66.] A CATCH. 4. Mong’st all the precious Juices Afforded for our uses, Ther’s none to be compar’d with Sack: For the body or the mind, No such Physick you shall find, Therefore boy see we do not lack. Would’st thou hit a lofty strain, With this Liquor warm thy brain, And thou Swain shalt sing as sweet as _Sidney_; Or would’st thou laugh and be fat, Ther’s not any like to that To make _Jack Sprat_ a man of kidney. [It] Is the soul of mirth To poor Mortals upon Earth; It would make a coward bold as _Hector_, Nay I wager durst a Peece, That those merry Gods of _Greece_ Drank old Sack and _Nector_. [p. 67.] A CATCH. 6. Come, come away to the Tavern I say, For now at home ’tis washing day: Leave your prittle prattle, and fill us a pottle[;] You are not so wise as _Aristotle_: Drawer come away, let’s make it Holy day. Anon, Anon, Anon, Sir: what is’t you say[?] A CATCH. 7. There was an old man at _Walton_ cross, [Waltham] Who merrily sung when he liv’d by the loss; _Hey tro-ly loly lo_. He never was heard to sigh a hey ho, But he sent it out with _Hey troly loly lo_. He chear’d up his heart, When his goods went to wrack[,] With a hem, boy, Hem! And a cup of old Sack; Sing, _hey troly loly lo_. A CATCH. 8. Come, let us cast _Dice_ who shall drink, Mine is _twelve_, and his _sice sink_, _Six_ and _Fowr_ is thine, and he threw _nine_. Come away, _Sink tray_; _Size ace_, fair play; _Quater-duce_ is your throw Sir; [p. 68.] _Quater-ace_, they run low, sir: _Two Dewces_, I see; _Dewce ace_ is but three: Oh! where is the Wine? Come, fill up his glasse, For here is the man has thrown _Ams-ace_. A CATCH. 10. Never let a man take heavily the clamor of his wife, But be rul’d by me, and lead a merry life; Let her have her will in every thing, If she scolds, then laugh and sing, _Hey derry, derry, ding_. A CATCH. 11. Let’s cast away care, and merrily sing, There is a time for every thing; He that playes at work, and works at his play, Neither keeps working, nor yet Holy day: Set business aside, and let us be merry, And drown our dull thoughts in Canary and Sherry. A CATCH.