To the Tavern: Fye, nay, prithee John (Purcell)
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(A chiding Catch)
Fye, anh, prithee John,
do not quarrel man,
let's be merry and drink about.
You're a Rogue, you've cheated me,
I'll prove before this Company,
I caren't a Farthing Sir for all you are so stout.
Sir you lye, I scorn your word,
or any man that wears a sword,
for all you huff who cares a Turd, or who cares for you.