192
Merry Drollerie,
It was not thus, I wis, when Betty rul’d in Britain.
But friendſhip hath faultred,
Loves Altars are altered,
And he that is the cauſe, I would his neck were haltred.
But friendſhip hath faultred,
Loves Altars are altered,
And he that is the cauſe, I would his neck were haltred.
When Love did nouriſh
England did flouriſh,
Till holy hate came in and made us all ſo curriſh.
Now every Widgeon
Talks of Religion,
And doth as little good as Mahomet and his Pidgeon.
Each coxcombe is ſuiting
His words for confuting,
But heaven is ſooner gain’d by ſuffering than by diſputing.
True friendſhip we ſmother,
And ſtrike at our Brother
Apoſtles never went to God by killing one another.
England did flouriſh,
Till holy hate came in and made us all ſo curriſh.
Now every Widgeon
Talks of Religion,
And doth as little good as Mahomet and his Pidgeon.
Each coxcombe is ſuiting
His words for confuting,
But heaven is ſooner gain’d by ſuffering than by diſputing.
True friendſhip we ſmother,
And ſtrike at our Brother
Apoſtles never went to God by killing one another.
Let Love but warm ye
Nothing can harm ye,
When Love is General, there’s Angels in the Army.
Love keeps his quarters,
And fears no tortures,
The braveſt fights are written in the Book of Martyrs.
Could we be ſo civill
As to do good for evill
It were the only happy way to o’recome the divel.
The Flowers Love hath watred,
Nothing can harm ye,
When Love is General, there’s Angels in the Army.
Love keeps his quarters,
And fears no tortures,
The braveſt fights are written in the Book of Martyrs.
Could we be ſo civill
As to do good for evill
It were the only happy way to o’recome the divel.
The Flowers Love hath watred,
Sedition
