Andreas Stenberg - A Cure for Melancoly - текст песни (слова)

4  Next that same Bowl, where Jove Divine
 Drank Nectar in, I'd fill with Wine;
 That whereas
 You should pause,
 You should quaff
 Like a Greek
 Till your Cheek
 To Ceres and to Venus,
 To Bacchus and Silenus,
 Thus would I Cure ye.
 
 5  But if not Gold, no Woman can
 Nor Wine, nor Songs, make merry then;
 Let the Batt
 Be my Mate,
 And the Owl;
 Let a Pain
 In the Brain,
 Make thee Howl;
 Let the Pox be thy Friend,
 the plague work thy end,
 Thus I would Cure you.