I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel,
but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should read more

I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel,
but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should put an enemy in
their mouths to steal away their brains! that we should with
joy, pleasance, revel, and applause transform ourselves into
beasts!

In vain I trusted that the flowing bowl
Would banish sorrow, and enlarge the soul.
To the read more

In vain I trusted that the flowing bowl
Would banish sorrow, and enlarge the soul.
To the late revel, and protracted feast,
Wild dreams succeeded, and disorder'd rest.

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.

What does drunkenness accomplish? It discloses secrets, it
ratifies hopes, and urges even the unarmed to battle.
[Lat., read more

What does drunkenness accomplish? It discloses secrets, it
ratifies hopes, and urges even the unarmed to battle.
[Lat., Quid non ebrietas designat? Operta recludit;
Spes jubet esse ratas; in praelia trudit inermem.]

Soon as the potion works, their human count'nance,
Th' express resemblance of the gods, is chang'd
Into read more

Soon as the potion works, their human count'nance,
Th' express resemblance of the gods, is chang'd
Into some bruitish form of wolf or bear,
Or ounce or tiger, hog, or bearded goat,
All other parts remaining as they were;
And they, so perfect in their misery,
Not once perceive their foul disfigurement.

Then hasten to be drunk, the business of the day.

Then hasten to be drunk, the business of the day.

Man, being reasonable, must get drunk;
The best of life is but intoxication:
Glory, the grape, love, read more

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.

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?

I told you, sir, they were redhot with drinking;
So full of valor that they smote the air
read more

I told you, sir, they were redhot with drinking;
So full of valor that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces, beat the ground,
For kissing of their feet; yet always bending
Towards their project.