And when we have drank out all our store,
The Jack goes for barm to brew us some more;
And when our stomachs with hunger have bled,
Then it marches for more to make us some
bread.

And I wish, etc.

I now will cease to speak of the Jack,
But hope his assistance I never shall lack,
And I hope that now every honest man,
Instead of Jack will y'clip him John;

And I wish that his heirs may never want sack,

That first devised the bonny black Jack.

43

OLD ROSE

Now we're met like jovial fellows,

Let us do as wise men tell us,

Sing Old Rose and burn the bellows:
Let us do as wise men tell us.

When the jowl with claret glows,
And wisdom shines upon the nose,
O then is the time to sing Old Rose,
And burn, burn, burn the bellows.

44

If any so wise is that sack he despises,
Let him drink his small beer, and be sober;
Whilst we drink sack and sing, as if it were
Spring,

He shall drop like the trees in October.

But be sure, overnight if this dog do you bite, You take it henceforth for a warning,

Soon as out of your bed, to settle your head, Take a hair of his tail in the morning;

And be not so silly to follow old Lilly,

For there's nothing but sack that can tune us; Let his ne-assuescas be put in his cap case, And sing bibito vinum jejunus.

45

HANG sorrow and cast away care, and let us drink up our sack:

They say 'tis good to cherish the blood, and for to strengthen the back;

'Tis wine that makes the thoughts aspire and fills the body with heat,

Besides 'tis good, if well understood, to fit a man for the feat:

Then call and drink up all, the drawer is ready

to fill,

A pox of care, what need we to spare, my father hath made his will.

46

ON A PINT OF SACK

OLD poets Hippocrene admire,
And pray to water to inspire

Their wit and Muse with heav'nly fire;
Had they this heav'nly fountain seen,
Sack both their well and Muse had been,
And this pint-pot their Hippocrene.

Had they truly discovered it,
They had, like me, thought it unfit
To pray to water for their wit;
And had adored sack as divine,
And made a poet-god of wine,
And this pint-pot had been a shrine.

Sack unto them had been instead
Of nectar, and their heav'nly bread,
And ev'ry boy a Ganymede;
Or had they made a god of it,
Or styled it patron of their wit,
This pot had been a temple fit.

Well then, companions, is't not fit,
Since to this gem we owe our wit,
That we should praise the cabinet,
And drink a health to this divine
And bounteous palace of our vine?
Die he with thirst that doth repine!

47

DRINKING COMMENDED

COME, let the State stay,

And drink away,

There is no business above it:

It warms the cold brain,
Makes us speak in high strain,
He's a fool that does not approve it.

The Macedon youth

Left behind him this truth,

That nothing is done with much thinking; He drank and he fought,

Till he had what he sought:

The world was his own by good drinking.

SIR JOHN SUCKLING (1609-1642).

48

A SONG OF SACK

COME, let us drink away the time,
A pox upon this pelting rhyme,

When wine runs high wit's in the prime:

Drink and stout drinkers are true joys;

Odd sonnets and such little toys

Are exercises fit for boys.

The whining lover that doth place
His fancy on a painted face,

And wastes his substance in the chase,
Would ne'er in melancholy pine,

Had he affections so divine,

As once to fall in love with wine.

Then to our liquor let us sit,

Wine makes the soul for action fit,

Who drinks most wine hath the most wit;

The gods themselves do revels keep,
And in pure nectar tipple deep,
When slothful mortals are asleep.

They fuddled me for recreation
In water, which by all relation
Did cause Deucalion's inundation;
The spangled globe had it almost,
Their cups were with salt water dos't,
The sunburnt centre was the toast.

The gods, then, let us imitate,
Secure from carping care and fate;
Wine, wit and courage doth create;
In wine Apollo always chose
His darkest oracles to disclose,
'Twas wine gave him his ruby nose.

Who dares not drink 's a wretched wight,
Nor do I think that man dares fight
All day, that dares not drink at night:
Come, fill my cup until it swim

With foam that overlooks the brim.

Who drinks the deepest? Here's to him!