Recreation for ingenious head-peeces, or, A pleasant grove for their wits to walk in of epigrams 700, epitaphs 200, fancies a number, fantasticks abundance : with their addition, multiplication, and division.

The Drunken Humors.

[illustration]

One here is bent to quarrell, and he will (If not prevented) this his fellow kill:

He fume••, and frets, and rages; in whose face Nothing but death and horrour taketh place. But being parted, 'tother odd jugg, or two, Makes them all friends again with small ado••.

Another he makes deaf your ears to heare The vain tautologies he doth declare; That, had you as many ear•• as Argus eyes; He'd make them weary all with tales, and lyes: And at the period of each idle fable, He gives the on-set to out-laugh the Table.

One he fits drinking healthe to such a friend, Then to his Mistris he a health doth send: This publick Captain•• health he next doth mean, And then in private to some nasty Que••n; Nothing but health•• of love is his pretence, Till he himselfe hath lost both health and sense.

To make the number up amongst the crew, Another being o're-fil'd, begins to spue Worse then the brutish beast; (O fy upon it!) It is a qualme forsooth doth cause him vomit. So that his stomack being over-prest, He must disgorge it, o're he can have rest.

Here sits one straining of his drunken throat Beyond all reason, yet far short of note:

Singing is his delight, then hoops and hallows, Making a Garboyle worse then Vulcans bellows. Now for a Coun••er-tenor he takes place, But straining that too high, fall•• to a base. Then screws his mouth an inch beyond his forme, To treble it, just like a Gelders-horne: He's all for singing, and he hates to chide, Till blithfull Bacchus cause his tongue be tide.

One like an Ape shews many tricks and toyes, To leap, and dance, and sing with ru••full noise; O're the foorme skips, then crosse-legd sits Upon the Table, in his apish fits. From house to house he rambles in such sort, That no Baboon could make you better sport: He pincheth one, another with his wand He thrusts, or striketh, or else with his hand: P••ss••s the room, and as he sleeping lyes, Waters his Couch (not with repenting eyes.)

A seaventh, he sits mute, as if his tongue Had never learn'd no other word but mum; And with his mouth he maketh mops and mews, Just like an Ape his face in form he screws: Then nods with hum, and hah; but not one word His tongue-tide foolish silence can afford. To note his gesture, and his snorting after, 'Twould make a Horse break all his girts with laughter

But questionlesse he'd speak more were he able, Which you shall hear, having well slept at table.

Sir reverence, your stomacks doe prepare Against some word, or deed, ill-sent doth beare. So this most sorded beast being drunk, doth misse The Chamber-pot, and in his hose doth pisse. Nay, smell but near him, you perhaps may find, Not onely piss'd before, but — behind; Each company loaths him, holding of their nose, Scorning, and pointing at his filthy hose: As no condition of a Drunkard's good, So this smels worst of all the loathsome brood.