THE DEAD HOST'S WELCOME

by: John Fletcher

      'IS late and cold; stir up the fire;
      Sit close, and draw the table nigher;
      Be merry, and drink wine that's old,
      A hearty medicine 'gainst a cold:
      Your beds of wanton down the best,
      Where you shall tumble to your rest;
      I could wish you wenches too,
      But I am dead, and cannot do.
      Call for the best the house may ring,
      Sack, white, and claret, let them bring,
      And drink apace, while breath you have;
      You'll find but cold drink in the grave:
      Plover, partridge, for your dinner,
      And a capon for the sinner,
      You shall find ready when you're up,
      And your horse shall have his sup:
      Welcome, welcome, shall fly round,
      And I shall smile, though under ground.

'The Dead Host's Welcome' was originally published in The Lovers' Progress (1647).

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