Here's His health, through Whom we live!

I that faith inherit.
To our king the next toast give,

Honour is his merit,
'Gainst each in-- and outward foe

He's our rock and tower.
Of his maintenance thinks he though,

More that grows his power.

Next to her good health I drink,

Who has stirr'd my passion;
Of his mistress let each think,

Think in knightly fashion.
If the beauteous maid but see

Whom 'tis I now call so,
Let her smiling nod to me:

"Here's my love's health also!"

To those friends,--the two or three,--

Be our next toast given,