Page:Songs compleat, pleasant and divertive (Wit and mirth or, Pills to purge melancholy).djvu/373

 In Apish Modes they naturally shine,           } Which we Ape after them to make us fine,       } The late Blue Feather was charmant divine;     } Next then the slouching Sledo, and our huge Button, And now our Coats, flanck broad, like Shoulder Mutton: Fac'd with fine Colours, Scarlet, Green and Sky, With Sleeves so large, they'll give us Wings to Fly; Next Year I hope they'll cover Nails and all, And every Button like a Tennis-Ball: Nor on their Industry can he here reflect,        } Cause, to our own there must be some respect,     } Our Ills come by Misfortune, not Neglect;         } And that they outwit us, we will ne'er agree, Tho' they have damn'd Luck with our Ships at Sea: How shall the Satyr then his Venom shed, Their Heads are full of Air, and ours are full of Lead; Their hot Brains make 'em swear in Ela's somes, We in dull Gamut roar out Blood and Worms: They to grow cool, from Herbs still seek Relief, We to grow Hot, deboash our selves in Beef; And for the Bone, when we to Battle run, Priests of both kinds ne'er fail to Hiss us on: To Trim the Matter, and use a Mean, Our cautious Author in each coming Scene, Resolv'd to baulk both sides, has us'd to Day, No Plot, but Love Intrigues quite through his Play, Yet that 'tis Good, I dare be bold to say: The Jacks are fierce, and Williamites are flesh'd, The Poets not so bold, but may be dash'd, Wit has no Armour proof, 'gainst being thrash'd; Therefore in Terror of the Warriours Trade, Suspends all Satyr 'till the Peace me made.