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 Song.

AS Colin went forth his sheep to unfold, In a morning of April as gray as twas cold, In a thick••t he heard a voyce it self spread, Which was, Oh, oh, I am almost dead.

He peep'd in the bushes, and spy'd where there lay His Mistress, whose countenance made April May; But yet in her looks some sadness was read, Crying Oh, &c.

He rush'd in unto her, & cry'd what's the matter? Ah Colin, quoth she, why will you come at her, Who by the false Swain hath oft been mislead? To which, Oh, &c.

He turn'd her Milk-paile, and down there he sat, H••s hand stroak'd his beard, on his knee hung his hat; But yet still Mopsa cry'd, before ought was sed. Colin, Oh, oh, &c.

Be God quoth stout Colin, I ever was true, Thou gav'st me a handkerchief all hemm'd with blew, A pin-box I gave thee, & a girdle so red, And yet she cry'd, Oh, &c.

Delaying, quoth she, hath made me thus ill, I ever fear'd Sarah that dwelt at the mill, Since in the Evenings late her hogs thou hast fed. For which, Oh, oh, &c.

Colin then chuckt her under the chin, Cleare up, for to love thee I never will lin; Q^d. she Ile believe it when the Parson has read. Till then, Oh, oh, &c.

Uds bores, quoth Colin, Ile new clout my shoon, And ere a week pass, by the mass 't shall be done. You might have done before then, she said: But now, Oh, oh, &c.

He gave her a twitch that quite turn'd her round, And said, I am the truest that ere trod on ground, Come settle thy milk-paile fast to thy head: No more Oh, oh, &c.

Why then I perceive thou'••t not leave me in the lurch, Ile don my best cloaths, and straight goe to Church. Jog on merry Colin, jog on before, For yfaith, yfaith Ile dye no more.