Sportive vvit the muses merriment, a new spring of lusty drollery, joviall fancies, and a la mode lamponnes, on some heroic persons of these late times, never before exposed to the publick view / collected for the publick good by a club of sparkling wits, viz. C.J., B.J., L.M., W.T., cum multis alsis----

A Medly.

I Prethee sweet Rose pull up thy cloaths, And let me see thy — Fortune my foe, why didst thou frown on— Green sleeves and Pudding-pies, And wot you not where— The Cripple of Cornwal surnam'd was: He slept under an old hollow— Barnaby where hast thou been? Drunk ore-night, and dry again, in the days of Old Simon the King, With a thred-bare coat, and a Malmsey nose, Sing, Heigh— For a lusty lively lad, Heigh for a lad lacks kissing; Heigh for a lad that's seldom sad: But when he's dead, and laid in his grave, The passengers by will say, There was— A jovial Turk dwelt in the town of Turvey; And he could tune a kettle well, but his humour was scurvy: Still did he cry, Tara tink, tara tink boys; Room for Cuckolds here comes — As pretty a Nymph as I have seen; Her age was not above fifteen:

For grief of heart complained she, I slept not since the Conquest.