There can be no Glad-man compar'd to the Mad-man, His Mind is still void of Care; His Fits and his Fancies, are above all Mischances, And Mirth is his ordinary Fare. _Then be thou Mad, Mad, Mad let's be,_ _Nor shall the foul Fiend be Madder than we._ The Wise and the Witty, in Court and in City, Are subject to sorrow and Pain; While he that is Mad, knows not why to be Sad, Nor has any cause to complain: _Then be thou Mad_, &c. We laugh at you Wise Men, that thus do despise Men, Whose Senses you think to Decline; Mark well and you'll see, what you count but Frenzy, Is indeed but Raptures Divine. _Then be thou Mad_, &c. Let the Grave and the Wise, pluck out their Eyes, To set forth a Book worth a Groat; We Mad-men are quicker, grow Learn'd with good Liquor, And Chirp a Merry note. _Then be thou Mad_, &c. Hast thou lost thy Estate Man, why, care not for that Man, What Wealth may'st not fancy thy own; More than Queen _Dido_, or her Ass-Ear'd _Midas_, That great Philosopher's stone. _Then be thou Mad_, &c. _Pompey_ was a Mad-man, and so long a Glad-man; But at length he was forc'd to flee; For _Caesar_ from _Gallia_ beat him in _Pharsalia_, 'Cause a madder Fellow then he. _Then be thou Mad_, &c. 'Twas this Extasie brave, that the great Courage gave, If your Eyes were but ope'd and would see; To great _Alexander_, that mighty Commander, As Mad a Fellow as could be. _Then be thou Mad_, &c. Then around goes a Health to the Lady o'th' House, If any Man here does forsake it; For a Fool let him go, we know better Manners, And so we mean to take it. _Then be thou Mad_, &c. There's no Night Mirth's going, nor any Lad wooing, But Mad-men are privy unto it; For the Stars so peep, into every such thing, And wink upon us as you do it. _Then be thou Mad_, &c. When the Frost, Ice and Snow, do benumb things below, We Chirp as merry as Larks; Our Sack and our Madness, consumes cold and sadness, And we are the Jovial Sparks. _Then be thou Mad_, &c. Has thy Mistress frown'd on thee, or thy Rival out-gone thee? Let Sober and Wise Fellows pine; Whilst bright _Miralind_ and goodly _Dulcind_, And the rest of the Fairies are thine. _Then be thou Mad_, &c. A Mad-man needs baulk no manner of talk, His Tongues never guilty with Treason; But a Wise Knave would suffer, if the same he should utter, For a wise Man's Guilt is his Reason. _Then be thou Mad_, &c. _A_ SONG. [Music] A Shepherd kept Sheep on a Hill so high, _fa, la, la_, &c. And there came a pretty Maid passing by, _fa, la_, &c. Shepherd, quoth she, dost thou want e'er a Wife, No by my troth I'm not weary of my Life, _fa, la, la_, &c. Shepherd for thee I care not a Fly, _fa, la, la_, For thou'st not the Face with a fair Maid to lie, _fa, la_, How now my Damsel, say'st thou me so, Thou shalt tast of my bottle before thou dost go, _fa, la_.