BALLAD. (Come, every man now give his toast)

Come, every man now give his toast, Fill up the glass, I'll tell you mine, Wine is the mistress I love most, This is my toast—now give me thine.

Well said my lad, ne'er let it stand, I give you Chloe, nymph divine, May love and wine go hand in hand; This is my toast—now give me thine.

Fill up your giasses to the brink, Hebe let no one dare decline; 'Twas Hebe taught me first to drink: This is my toast—now give me thine.

Gemmen, I give my wife d'ye see; May all to make her blest combine; So she be far enough from me: This is my toast—now give me thine.

Let constant lovers at the feet Of pale fac'd wenches sigh and pine, For me, the first kind girl I meet Shall be my toast—now give me thine:

You toast your wife, and you your lass, My boys and welcome; here's the wine, For my part, he who fills my glass Shall be my toast—now give me thine.

Spirit, my lads, and toast away, I have still one with yours to join; That we may have enough to pay: This is my toast—now give me thine.