The disconted Lover.
To a pleasant new Court Tune.
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TOul, toul, gentle bell for a soul,
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killing care doth controule,
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And my mind is sore opprest;
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But I fear I shall die.
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For a glance of that eye,
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Which so lately did fly,
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Like a Comet from the sky,
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Or like some great Deity:
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But my wishes are in vain,
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I shall never see't again.
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When I, in the Temple did spy,
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This divine purity,
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On her knees to her Saint,
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She seem'd so divine,
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All her graces did shine
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Far more fairer then the shrine?
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Faith I wisht she had been mine,
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And my heart full resign,
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May powerfully prove
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No Religion like love.
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Fair, fair, and as chaste as the ayr,
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Holy Nunns breath in prayer.
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Was this Votresse divine:
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From each eye dropt a tear,
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Like the pearl'd violets were
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When the Spring doth appear
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To usher in the year,
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But I dare safely swear,
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That those tears trickle down
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For no sins of her own.
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But now, encreaseth my woe,
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I by no means can know
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Where this beauty doth dwell:
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All her cries being done
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To her Lady and her Son,
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I war left all alone,
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And my Saint was from me gone,
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And to Heeven she is flown,
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Which makes me to say
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I can scarce live a day.
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NOw I, must haste and die,
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And ascend to the sky,
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Where my hopes are inthron'd:
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You Ladies all adieu,
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Be your Loves false or true,
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I am going for to view
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One that far excells all you,
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One whom I never knew,
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But must breath out my breath
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For acquaintance in death.
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Ring, ring, merry bells while we sing
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Drinking healths to our King,
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And our minds all advanc'd;
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Let us never fear to dy,
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Till we drink out each eye,
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Let cash and cans fly
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Like heil-stones from the sky,
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Bacchus great Deity:
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But my wishes are but in vain,
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Fill the Cans round again.
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When I in the Tavern did spy
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Such fair boon company
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On our knees drinking healths,
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We look so divine,
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When our noses do shine,
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Well burnisht with rich wine.
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Faith I wisht the cup were mine:
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Unto thee I resign,
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And may powerfully prove
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In drinking thy love.
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Free, free, as the ayr let us be,
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Esteeming no degree,
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But to all breaths alike.
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From one eye dropt a tear,
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Lest you Maudlin apear.
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And next morning do fear
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To be physick'd with small Beer,
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But I dare safely swear,
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If a tear trickle down,
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'Tis for love to the Crown.
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And now, increaseth my woe,
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I by all means must know
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What is due for our Sack;
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But the reckoning being paid
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To the Hostess or Maid,
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We need not be afraid
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To be scurvely betraid
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To the Constables aid:
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Let us honestly pay,
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Else we scarce get away.
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Now must I make hast and see
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What will us all free
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All our hands from the Bar;
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You Ladies all adieu,
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Be your reckoning false or true,
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I am going for to view
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What belongeth to all you.
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Though we pay more then our own,
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Yet my purse will I spend,
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And my life for my friend.
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