Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/175

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Countess of Winchilsea
37
 'Twas a World, like to this, The hott Græcian did misse,Of whom History's keep such a pother, To the bottom he sunk, And when one he had drunkGrew maudlin, and wept for another.

THE BARGAIN

A Song in dialogue between Bacchus and Cupid

CupidBacchus, to thee that turn'st the brain,And doest o're mighty punch bowls reign,Enthron'd upon thy lusty barrell,I drink, to drown the ancient quarrell;And mortalls shall no more disputeWhich of us two, is absolute.
BacchusI pledge thee Archer, nor disdainTo own thou over hearts doest reign,But tears thou drink'st, drawn from low courage,And cool'd with sighs, instead of burrage;Were that errour once ammended,All, might in Champaine be ended.
CupidI am content, so we may joyn,To mix my waters, with thy wine;Then henceforth farwell all defying,And thus, we'll still be found complying,He, that's in love, shall fly to thee,And he thats drunk, shall reel to mee.
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