12. Hang sorrow, and cast away care, And let us drink up our Sack: They say ’tis good to cherish the blood, And for to strengthen the back: Tis Wine that makes the thoughts aspire, And fills the body with heat; Besides ’tis good, if well understood [p. 69.] To fit a man for the feat; _Then call, and drink up all,_ _The drawer is ready to fill:_ _Pox take care, what need we to spare,_ _My Father has made his will._ [p. 70.] A CATCH. 16. My lady and her Maid, upon a merry pin, They made a match at F—ting, who should the wager win. _Jone_ lights three candles then, and sets them bolt upright; With the first f—— she blew them out, With the next she gave them light: In comes my Lady then, with all her might and main, And blew them out, and in and out, and out and in again. A CATCH. 18. An old house end, an old house end, And many a good fellow wants mon[e]y to spend. If thou wilt borrow Come hither to morrow I dare not part so soon with my friend[.] But let us be merry, and drink of our sherry, But to part with my mon[e]y I do not intend[.] Then a t—d in thy teeth, and an old house end. [p. 71.] A CATCH. 20. Wilt thou lend me thy Mare to ride a mile No; she’s lame going over a stile, But if thou wilt her to me spare Thou shalt have mony for thy mare: Oh say you so, say you so, Mon[e]y will make my mare to go. THE ANSWER. 21. Your mare is lame; she halts downe right, Then shall we not get to _London_ to night: You cry’d ho, ho, mon[e]y made her go, But now I well perceive it is not so[.] You must spur her up, and put her to’t Though mon[e]y will not make her goe, your spurs will do’t. [p. 72.] A CATCH. 23. Good _Symon_, how comes it your Nose looks so red, And your cheeks and lips look so pale? Sure the heat of the tost your Nose did so rost, When they were both sous’t in Ale. It showes like the Spire of _Pauls_ steeple on fire, Each Ruby darts forth (such lightning) Flashes, While your face looks as dead, as if it were Lead And cover’d all over with ashes. Now to heighten his colour, yet fill his pot fuller And nick it not so with froth, Gra-mercy, mine Host! it shall save the[e] a Toast Sup _Simon_, for here is good broth. A CATCH. 24. Wilt thou be Fatt, Ile tell thee how, Thou shalt quickly do the Feat; And that so plump a thing as thou Was never yet made up of meat: Drink off thy Sack, twas onely that Made _Bacchus_ and _Jack Falstafe_, Fatt.