ravagant fancies. Most of his songs are amorous, though
never indelicate. Some are for drinking bouts.

"Come all ye jolly Bucchanals
That love to tope good wine,
Let's offer up a hogshead
Unto our master's shrine,
Come, let us drink and never shrink,
For I'll tell you the reason why,
It's a great sin to leave a house till we've drunk the cellar dry.
In times of old I was a fool,
I drank the water clear,
But Bacchus took me from that rule,
He thought 'twas too severe;
He filled a bumper to the brim
And bade me take a sup,
But had it been a gallon pot,
By Jove I'd tossed it up.
And ever since that happy time,
Good wine has been my cheer,
Now nothing puts me in a swoon
But water or small beer.
Then let us tope about, my lads,
And never flinch nor fly,
But fill our skins brimfull of wine,
And drain the bottles dry."

Many of his plays were burlesque operas, introducing songs. In one of
them the "Dragon of Wantley," we have--

"Zeno, Plato, Aristotle,
All were lovers of the bottle;
Poets, Painters, and Musicians,
Churchmen, Lawyers, and Physicians;
All admire a pretty lass,
All require a cheerful glass,
Every pleasure has its season,
Love and drinking are no treason."

He was fond of jocose love-ditties, such as:

"Pigs shall not be
So fond as we;
We will out-coo the turtle-dove,
Fondly toying,
Still enjoying,
Sporting sparrows we'll outlove."

Among his successful farces is the well-known Chrononhotonthologos
written to ridicule some bombastic tragedies of the day.
Chrononhotonthologos is king of Queerummania, Bombardinian is his
general, while his courtiers are Aldiborontiphoscophornio and Rigdum
Funnidos. The following gives a good specimen of his ballad style.

"O! London is a dainty place,
A great and gallant city,
For all the streets are paved with gold,
And all the folks are witty.

"And there's your lords and ladies fine,
That ride in coach-and-six,
Who nothing drink but claret wine,
And talk of politicks.

"And there's your beauxs with powdered clothes,
Bedaubed from head to shin;
Their pocket-holes adorned with gold,
But not one sous within."

CHAPTER X.

Vanbrugh--Colley Cibber--Farquhar.

Vanbrugh--a man of Dutch extraction as his name suggests--was one of the
few whom literature led, though indirectly, to fortune. He