THE greybeard, old wisdom, may boast of his treasures,
Give me with gay folly to live;
I grant him his calm-blooded, time-settled pleasures,
But folly has raptures to give.

I MURDER hate by field or flood,
Tho' glory's name may screen us;
In wars at home I'll spend my blood,
Life-giving wars of Venus:
The deities that I adore
Are social Peace and Plenty;
I'm better pleased to make one more,
Than be the death of twenty.----------

I would not die like Socrates,
For all the fuss of Plato;
Nor would I with Leonidas,
Nor yet would I with Cato:
The Zealots of the Church, or State,
Shall ne'er my mortal foes be,
But let me have bold ZIMRI's fate,
Within the arms of COSBI!------

MY bottle is a holy pool,
That heals the wounds o' care an' dool;
And pleasure is a wanton trout,
An ye drink it, ye'll find him out.

IN politics if thou would'st mix,
And mean thy fortunes be;
Bear this in mind, be deaf and blind,
Let great folks hear and see.