Down a down, hey down a down,
Hey derry, derry, down a down,
Ho, well done, to me let come,
Ring compass gentle joy.

Trowl the bowl, the nut-brown bowl,
And here, kind mate, to thee,

Let's sing a dirge for Saint Hugh's soul,
And down it merrily.

Cold's the wind, and wet's the rain,
Saint Hugh be our good speed,
Ill is the weather that bringeth no gain,
Nor helps good hearts in need.

XXX.

(From a Mad World my Masters, by Middleton.) The catch for the fifth act, sung by Sir Bounteous Progress to his guests.

O FOR a bowl of fat canary,

Rich Aristippus, sparkling sherry!

Some nectar else from Juno's dairy;
O these draughts would make us merry.

O for a wench! I deal in faces,

And in other daintier things;
Tickled am I with her embraces;

Fine dancing in such fairy rings!

O for a plump fat leg of mutton,
Veal, lamb, capon, pig, and cony !
None is happy but a glutton,

None an ass but who wants money.

Wines, indeed, and girls are good,

For brave victuals feast the blood;
For wenches, wine, and lusty cheer,
Jove would come down to surfeit here.

XXXI.

A BRIEFE DISCOURSE

OF THE TRUE BUT NEGLECTED USE OF CHARACT'RING

THE DEGREES, ETC.

(From Thomas Ravenscroft, 1614.)

TRUDGE away quickly and fill the black bole,
Devoutly as long as wee bide,

Now welcome, good fellowes, both strangers and all,
Let madnes and mirth set sadnes aside.

Of all reckonings I love good cheere,
With honest folkes in company;

And when drinke comes my part for to beare,
For still me thinks one tooth is drye.

Love is a pastime for a king,

If one be seene in phisnomie ;
But I love well this pot to wring,

For still me thinks one tooth is drye.

Masters, this is all my desire,

I woulde no drinke should passe us by;
Let us now sing and mend the fier,
For still me thinks one tooth is drye.

Mr. Butler, give us a taste

Of your best drinke so gently:

A jugge or twaine, and make no waste,
For still me thinks one tooth is drye.

Mr. Butler, of this take part,

Ye love good drinke as well as I;
And drinke to mee with all your hart,
For still me thinks one tooth is drye.
Cho. Trudge away quickly, &c.
Now welcome good fellowes, &c.

Cho.

XXXII.

(From the same.)

TOSSE the pot, tosse the pot, let us be merry,
And drinke till our cheeks be red as a cherry.

We take no thought, we have no care, For still we spend, and never spare, Till of all money our pursse is bare,

We ever tosse the pot.

Cho. Tosse the pot, &c.

We drinke, carouse with hart most free, A harty draught I drinke to thee; Then fill the pot again to me,

And ever tosse the pot.

Cho. Tosse the pot, &c.

And when our mony is all spent,

Then sell our goods and spend our rent, Or drinke it up with one consent,

And ever tosse the pot.

When all is gone we have no more,
Then let us set it on the score,

Or chalke it up behinde the dore,

And ever tosse the pot.

And when our credit is all lost,

Then may we goe and kisse the post,

And eat browne bread in steed of rost,

And ever tosse the pot.

Cho.

Let us conclude as we began,

And tosse the pot from man to man,
And drinke as much now as we can,

And ever tosse the pot.

Tosse the pot, tosse the pot, let us be merry,
And drinke till our cheeks be as red as a cherry.

XXXIII.

(From the same. Deuteromelia, 1609.)

WEE be souldiers three,

Pardona moy ie vous an pree,

Lately come forth of the Low Country,
With never a penny of money.

Fa la la la lantido dilly.

Here, good fellow, I drinke to thee,
Pardona moy ie vous an pree,
To all good fellowes where ever they be,
With never a penny of mony.

And he that will not pledge me this,

Pardona moy ie vous an pree,
Payes for the shot what ever it is,

With never a penny of mony.