Facetiae : Musarum deliciae, or, The Muses recreation, conteining ...

Epitaphs. 267He 'gan to wrangle from the womb ;And was a wrangler to his Tomb.A peevish, and a foolish elfe,Foe to his God, his Saints,his selfe.He hated men, men did not love him :No evill but his own might move him.He was, and was earths load and careHe is,and is hells brand, and share.170. On John Dawson Butler.Dawson the Butlers dead, although I thinkPoets were nere infus'd with single drink,He spend a farthing Muse, a watery verse,Will serve the turn to cast upon his Herse.If any cannot weep among us here,Take off his cup, and so squeeze out a teare.Weep O ye barrels, let your drippings fallIn trickling streams, make wast more prodigal,Then when our beer was good, that John may floatTo Stix in beer, and liftup Charons boat,With wholsome waves : and as the Conduits runWith Clarret, at the Coronation,So let your channels flow with single Tiff,For John I hopeis crown'd take :off your whiff,Ye men of Rosemary, and drink up all,Remembring'tis a Butlers Funeral :Had he been Master of good double beer,My life for his, John Dawson had been here.