(5)
Then every ſoul out over his bowl,
ſhall drink his former mourning;
Let each take his glaſs and then his laſs,
and drink to each true lover;
Bad luck unto he that would not drink free
to every loyal ſoldier.
BE QUIET! DO!
LONG time with Sylvia have I ſtrove,
Oft told her of my faithful love,
And vow'd for to be true;
Yet the coy fair with feign'd reſtraint,
Always reprov'd my fond complaint,
With, pray be quiet do!
With, pray be quiet. do!
Laſt May-day walking o'er the green,
I ſaw her dreſt like ony queen,
But when I nearer drew;
And told in moving plaints my grief,
Begging of her to give relief,
She cry'd, Be quiet, Do!She, &c.
Vex'd to the heart at laſt to find,
That Sylvia never would be kind,
From her I went my way;
And ſent a letter to her ſtrait,
That I no more on her would wait,
Nor longer for her ſtay.Nor, &c.
Well, this ſoon melted all her pride,
