DRINKING SONG. I CANNOT eat but little meat My stomach is not good; But sure, I think that I can drink I stuff my skin so full within Both foot and hand go cold; But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, Whether it be new or old. I love no roast but a nut-brown toast, Much bread I nought desire. I am so wrapp'd, and thoroughly lapp'd, Of jolly good ale and old. Back and side, &c. And Tib, my wife, that as her life The tears run down her cheek: "Of this jolly good ale and old." Back and side, &c. Now let them drink till they nod and wink, Even as good fellows should do; They shall not miss to have the bliss Good ale doth bring men to. And all poor souls that have scoured bowls, Or have them lustily troul'd, God save the lives of them and their wives, Whether they be young or old. Back and side, &c. JOHN HALL. In the new edition of " Phillips's Theatrum Poetarum," this author is said to have been a surgeon at Maidstone in Kent, and to have written many tracts on the subject of his profession. Besides his Court of Virtue, he published, in 1550, "Certain chapters taken out of the Proverbs of Solomon, "&c. &c." His birth may perhaps be placed about 1520. THE COURT OF VIRTUE. The just and true man complaineth that flattery and falsehood are more regarded than truth, and rejoiceth that he is hated for the truth. Ir Truth may take no trusty hold, Nor cleave so fast as flattering sense, If meaning well may take no place, To feign such things as may be heard. Shall virtue dwell in such disdain But, if there be none other way, Yet if wisdom were nobleness, "Blamed but not shamed," the proverb is, And truth can have none other wrong: So may they hap their mark to miss, That think themselves in falsehood strong. Then hated, lo, I must rejoice, And fond-regard despise as vain: Closing my mouth, stopping my voice From speech in presence of disdain. A DITTY, Named "Blame not my Lute;" which under that title toucheth, replieth, and rebuketh, the wicked state and enormities of most people in these present miserable days. BLAME not my lute, though it do sound But rather seek, as ye are bound, To know what case that ye are in. If my Blame not my lute. lute blame the covetise, And how falsehood doth truth exile: Though wrong in justice' place be set, Though hypocrites be counted great, That maintain still idolatry, |