Then might you see a painted ring Of dames that stood by Nelly; Were Nelly's figure mounted there, As does that part that lies between A Ο Ν QUADRILLE. WH And left the nation free; When Ay faid ay, and No faid no, Then Satan, thinking things went ill, Quadrille, Quadrille, &c. Kings, queens, and knaves, made up his pack, And four fair fuits he wore; His troops they were with red and black And every house, go where you will, The king is forc'd to lofe Codille, &c. When two and two were met of old, But now, meet when and where you will, The commoner, and knight, and peer, Men of all ranks and fame, Leave to their wives the only care To propagate their name; And well that duty they fulfill, When the good husband's at Quadrille, &c. When patients lie in piteous cafe, In comes th' Apothecary; And to the Doctor cries, Alas! Non debes Quadrillare: The The patient dies without a pill: For why? the Doctor 's at Quadrille, &c. Should France and Spain again grow loud, Britain, to curb her neighbours proud, The King of late drew forth his fword What are their feats of arms and fkill? A party late at Cambray met, Which drew all Europe's eyes; But fomebody took something ill, And now God fave this noble realm, And God fave thofe who hold the helm, Quadrille, Quadrille, &c. VOL. I. T A NEW Α NEW SONG O F NEW SIMILE S. MY Y paffion is as mustard strong; Drunk as a piper all day long, Or like a March-hare mad. Round as a hoop the bumpers flow; I love her fill the better. Pert as a pear-monger I'd be, If Molly were but kind; Cool as a cucumber, could fee The reft of womankind. Like a stuck-pig I gaping stare, Plump as a partridge was I known, My cheeks as fat as butter grown ; 1, melancholy as a cat, Am kept awake to weep; But the, infenfible of that, Sound as a top can sleep. Hard Hard is her heart as flint or stone, She laughs to fee me pale; And merry as a grig is grown, The God of Love at her approach Hearts, found as any bell or roach, Strait as my leg her shape appears; My heart would be scot-free from cares, As fine as five-pence is her mien, As foft as pap her kisses are, As fmooth as glass, as white as curds, Her pretty hand invites ; Sharp as a needle are her words; Her wit, like pepper, bites: |