The oil of malt, and juice of spritely nectar Have made my muse more valiant than Hector.

O'erflowing cups, whom have they not made learned?

Full-blown my veins are, and so well they may, With brimming healths of wine drunk yesterday.

If thou dost love thy flock, leave off to pot.

THE END.

168

BESSIE BELL:

Cantio Latinè Versa, alternis Vicibus et modernis Vocibus decantanda.

AUTHORE CORYMBÆO.

Damatas.

Eliza-Bella.

I.

Dam. BELLULA BELLA, mi puella,

Tu me corde tenes,

O si clausa simus cella

Mars et Lemnia Venus!

Tanto mî es, quanti tua res,
Ne spectes Bellula mundum,
Non locus est cui crimen abest
In amoribus ad cöeundum.

169

BESSY BELL:

To be sung in altern Courses and modern Voices.

BY CORYMBÆUS.

Damatas.

Eliza-Bella.

I.

Dam. My bonny Bell, I love thee so well,

I would thou wad scund alang hither,
That we might here in a cellar dwell,
And blend our bows together!

Dear art' to me as thy geer's to thee,
The world will never suspect us,

This place it is private, 'tis folly to drive it,
Love's spies have no eyes to detect us.

P

II.

Bel. Crede Damætas, non finit ætas

Ferre Cupidinis ignem,

Vir verè lætus intende pecus

Cura et carmine dignum.

Non amo te, ne tu ames me,
Nam jugo premitur gravi,
Quæcunque nubit et uno cubat,
Nec amo, nec amor, nec amavi.

III.

Dam. Virginis vita fit inimica

Principi, patriæ, proli,

In orbe sita ne sis invita
Sponsa nitidula coli.

Aspice vultum numine cultum,

Flore, colore jucundum,
Hic locus est, nam lucus abest
In amoribus ad cöeundum.

II.

Bell. Trust me, Damatas, youth will not

let us

Yet to be singed with Love's taper,

Bonny blithe swainlin, intend thy lambkin,
To requite both thy laws and thy labour.
I love not thee, why should'st thou love me?
The yoke I cannot approve it,

Then lie still with one, I'd rather have none,
Nor I love, nor am lov'd, nor have loved.

III.

Dam. To lead apes in hell, it will not do well,

'Tis an enemy to procreation,

In the world to tarry, and never to marry,
Would bring it soon to desolation.

See my count'nance merry, cheeks red as cherry,
This cover will never suspect us,

This place it is private, 'tis folly to driveit,
Love's spies have no eyes to detect us.