An antidote against melancholy: made up in pills. Compounded of witty ballads, jovial songs, and merry catches.

Ʋpon the Virtue of SACK.

By Dr. Hen. Edwards.

FEtch me Ben. Johnsons scull, and fill't with Sack Rich as the same he drank▪ when the whole pack Of jolly sisters pledg'd, and did agree It was no sin to be as drunk as he: If there be any weakness in the wine, There's virtue in a Cup to mak't divine; This muddy drench of Ale does tast too much Of earth, the Mault retains a scurvy touch Of the dull hand that sows it; and I fear There's heresie in Hops; give Calvin Beer, And his precise Disciples, such as think There's Powder treason in all Spanish drink; Call Sack an Idoll, nor will kiss the Cup, For fear their Conventickle be blown up VVith superstition: give to these Brew-house alms, VVhose best mirth is Six shillings Beer, and Psalms: Let me rejoyce in sprightly Sack, that can Create a brain even in an empty pan. Canary! it's thou that dost inspire And actuate the soul with heavenly fire; That thou sublim'st the Genius making wit, Scorn earth, and such as love, or live by it; Thou mak'st us Lords of Regions large and fair, VVhil'st our conceits build Castles in the air: Since fire, earth, air, thus thy inf••riours be, Henceforth I'll know no Element but thee: Thou precious Elixi•• of all Grapes! VVelcome by thee our Muse begins her scapes, Such is the worth of Sack; I am (me thinks) In the Exchequer now, hark now it chinks:

And do esteem my venerable self As brave a fellow, as if all the pelf Where sure mine own; and I have thought a way Already how to spend it; I would pay No debts, but fairly empty every trunk, And charge the Gold for Sack to keep me drunk; And so by consequence till rich Spains Wine Being in my crown, the Indies too were mine: And when my brains are once afoot (heaven bless us!) I think my self a better man then Craesus. And now I do conceit my self a Judge, And coughing laugh to see my Clients trudge After my Lordships Coach unto the Hall For Justice, and am full of Law withal, And do become the Bench as well as he That fled long since for want of honestie: But I'll be Judge no longer though in jest, For fear I should be talk'd with like the rest When I am sober; who can chuse but think Me wise, that am so wary in my drink! Oh admirable Sack! here's dainty sport, I am come back from Westminster to Court; And am grown young again; my Ptifick now Hath left me, and my Judges graver brow Is smooth'd, and I turn'd amorous as May, When she invites young lovers forth to play Upon her flowry bosome: I could win A Vestal now, or tempt a Queen to sin. Oh for a score of Queens! you'd laugh to see How they would strive which first should ravish me, Three Goddesses where nothing: Sack has tipt My tongue with charms like those which Paris sipt From Venus, when she taught him how to kiss Fair Helen, and invite a fairer bliss: Mine is Canary-Rhetorick, that alone Would turn Diana to a burning stone: Stone with amazement, burning with loves fire, Hard, to the touch, but short in her desire.

Inestimable Sack! thou mak'st us rich, Wise, amorous, any thing; I have an itch To ••'other cup, and that perchance will make Me valiant too, and quarrel for thy sake If I be once inflam'd against thy Nose That could preach down thy worth in small-beer Prose, I should do miracles as bad, or worse, As he that gave the King an hundred Horse: T'other odd Cup, and I shall be prepar'd To snatch at Stars, and pluck down a reward With mine one hands from Jove upon their backs That are, or Charls his enemies, or Sacks: Let it be full, if I do chance to spill Ov'r my Standish by the way I will Dipping in this diviner Ink, my pen, Write my self sober, and fall to t••agen.