Man, being reasonable, must get drunk;
The best of life is but intoxication:
Glory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk
The hopes of all men and of every nation;
Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk
Of life's strange tree, so fruitful on occasion:
But to return,--Get very drunk; and when
You wake with headache, you shall see what then.
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Then hasten to be drunk, the business of the day.
Then hasten to be drunk, the business of the day.
Beware the deadly fumes of that insane elation
Which rises from the cup of mad impiety,
And read more
Beware the deadly fumes of that insane elation
Which rises from the cup of mad impiety,
And go, get drunk with that divine intoxication
Which is more sober far than all sobriety.
. . . And when night
Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons
Of Belial, flown read more
. . . And when night
Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons
Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
In honest plainness thou hast heard me say
My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness,
read more
In honest plainness thou hast heard me say
My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness,
Being full of supper and distemp'ring draughts,
Upon malicious knavery does thou come
To start my quiet.
Gloriously drunk, obey the important call.
Gloriously drunk, obey the important call.
Boundless intemperance
In nature is a tyranny. It hath been
Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne
read more
Boundless intemperance
In nature is a tyranny. It hath been
Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne
And fall of many kings.
He that is drunken . . .
Is outlawed by himself; all kind of ill
Did with read more
He that is drunken . . .
Is outlawed by himself; all kind of ill
Did with his liquor slide into his veins.
I will ask him for my place again: he shall tell me I am a
drunkard! Had I as read more
I will ask him for my place again: he shall tell me I am a
drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would
stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and
presently a beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup is unblest,
and the ingredient is a devil.
Shall I, to please another wine-sprung minde,
Lose all mine own? God hath giv'n me a measure
read more
Shall I, to please another wine-sprung minde,
Lose all mine own? God hath giv'n me a measure
Short of His can and body; must I find
A pain in that, wherein he finds a pleasure?
