_A new_ BALLAD, _Sung at_ Messieurs Brook _and_ Hellier's _Club, at the_ Temple-_Tavern in_ Fleet-Street. [Music] Since _Tom's_ in the Chair, and e'ery one here Appears in Gay humour and easie; Say, why shou'd not I, a new Ballad try, Bright Brethren o'th' Bottle to please ye. This Wine is my Theme, this is all on's Esteem, For _Brook_ and _Hellier_ cannot wrong us; Let them get Wealth, who keeps us in Health, By bringing neat Liquors among us, _Let them get Wealth_, &c. Each Vintner of late, has got an Estate, By Brewing and Sophistication: With Syder and Sloes, they've made a damn'd Dose, Has Poisoned one half of the Nation: But _Hellier_ and _Brook_, a Method have took, To prove them all Scoundrels and Noddys; And shew'd us a way which (if we don't stray) Will save both our Pockets and Bodies. This generous Juice, brisk Blood will produce, And stupid ones raise to the bonny'st: Make Poets and Wits, of you that are Cits, And Lawyers (if possible) honest: If any are Sick, or find themselves Weak, With Symptoms of Gout or the Scurvy; This will alone, the Doctor must own, _Probatum est_ Healthy preserve ye. Have any here Wives, that lead 'em sad lives, For you know what pouting and storming; Then drink of this Wine, and it will incline, The weakest to vig'rous performing: Each Spouse will say then, pray go there agen, Tho' Money for the reck'ning you borrow; Nay, for so much Bub, here I'll pay your Club, So go there agen Dear to morrow. Tho' one drinks red Port, another's not for't, But chuses _Vienna_ or White-Wine; Each takes what suits best, his Stomach or Tast, Yet e'ery one's sure he drinks right Wine; Thus pledg'd we all sit, and thus we are knit, In Friendship together the longer; As Musick in Parts, enlivens our Hearts, And renders the Harmony stronger. Now God bless the Queen, Peers, Parliament Men, And keep 'em like us in true Concord; And grant that all those, who dare be her Foes, At _Tyburn_ may swing in a strong Cord; We'll Loyalists be, and bravely agree, With Lives and Estates to defend Her; So then she'll not care, come Peace or come War, For _Lewis_, the _Pope_, or _Pretender_. _The_ LONDON PRENTICE. [Music] A Worthy _London_ Prentice, Came to his Love by Night; The Candles were lighted, The Moon did shine so bright: He knocked at the Door, To ease him of his Pain; She rose and let him in Love, And went to Bed again. He went into the Chamber, Where his true Love did lye; She quickly gave consent, For to have his Company: She quickly gave consent, The Neighbours peeping out; So take away your Hand, Love let's blow the Candle out.