Loue, in a Humor, play’d the Prodigall,
And bad my Senses to a solemne Feast;
Yet more to grace the Company withall,
Inuites my Heart to be the chiefest Ghest:
No other Drinke would serue this Gluttons turne,
But precious Teares distilling from mine Eyne,
Which with my Sighes this Epicure doth burne,
Quaffing Carowses in this costly Wine;
Where, in his Cups o’rcome with foule Excesse,
Straightwayes he play’s a swagg’ring Ruffins part,
And at the Banquet in his Drunkennesse,
Slew his deare Friend, my kind and truest Heart:
A gentle warning (Friends) thus may you see,
What ’tis to keepe a Drunkard companie.