Page:Songs compleat, pleasant and divertive (Wit and mirth or, Pills to purge melancholy).djvu/373

In Apish Modes they naturally shine, }
Which we Ape after them to make us fine, }
The late Blue Feather was charmant divine; }
Next then the slouching Sledo, and our huge Button,
And now our Coats, flanck broad, like Shoulder Mutton:
Fac'd with fine Colours, Scarlet, Green and Sky,
With Sleeves so large, they'll give us Wings to Fly;
Next Year I hope they'll cover Nails and all,
And every Button like a Tennis-Ball:
Nor on their Industry can he here reflect, }
Cause, to our own there must be some respect, }
Our Ills come by Misfortune, not Neglect; }
And that they outwit us, we will ne'er agree,
Tho' they have damn'd Luck with our Ships at Sea:
How shall the Satyr then his Venom shed,
Their Heads are full of Air, and ours are full of Lead;
Their hot Brains make 'em swear in Ela's somes,
We in dull Gamut roar out Blood and Worms:
They to grow cool, from Herbs still seek Relief,
We to grow Hot, deboash our selves in Beef;
And for the Bone, when we to Battle run,
Priests of both kinds ne'er fail to Hiss us on:
To Trim the Matter, and use a Mean,
Our cautious Author in each coming Scene,
Resolv'd to baulk both sides, has us'd to Day,
No Plot, but Love Intrigues quite through his Play,
Yet that 'tis Good, I dare be bold to say:
The Jacks are fierce, and Williamites are flesh'd,
The Poets not so bold, but may be dash'd,
Wit has no Armour proof, 'gainst being thrash'd;
Therefore in Terror of the Warriours Trade,
Suspends all Satyr 'till the Peace me made.