The Delights of the Bottle:
OR,
The Town-Gallants Declaration for Women and Wine.
Being a Description of a Town-bred Gentleman, with all his Intreagus, Pleasure, Company, Humour, and Conversations.
Gallants, from faults he cannot be exempt,
Who doth a task so difficult attempt;
I know I shall not hit your features right,
Tis hard to imitate in black and whight,
Some Lines were drawn by a more skilful hand,
And which they were youl quickly understand,
Excuse me therefore if I do you wrong,
I did but make a Ballad of a Song.
To a most Admirable New Tune, every where much in request.
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THe Delights of the Bottle, & charms of good wine
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To the powr & the pleasures of love must resign,
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Though the night in the joys of good drinking be past,
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The debauches but till the next morning doth last;
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But loves great debauch is more lasting and strong,
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For that often lasts a man all his life long.
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Love, and Wine, are the bonds that fasten us all,
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The world, but for this, to confusion would fall:
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Were it not for the pleasures of love and good wine,
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Man-kind, for each trifle, their lives would resign:
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theyd not value dull life, or woud live without thinking
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Nor Kings rule the world, but for love & good drinking.
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For the Grave, and the Dull, by sobriety cursd,
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that would ner take a glass, but for quenching his thirst,
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He that once in a Month takes a touch of the Smoak,
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And poor Nature up-holds with a bit and a knock,
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What ever the ignorant Rabble may say,
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Tho he breaths till a hundred, he lives but a day.
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Let the Puritan preach against wenches, and drink,
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He may prate out his Lungs, but I know what I think
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When the Lecture is done, hel a Sister entice,
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Not a Letcher in Town can Out-do him at Vice:
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Tho beneath his Religion, he stifles his joys,
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And becomes a Dabauch without clamour or noise.
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Twixt the Vices of both, little difference lyes,
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But that one is more open, the other precize:
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Though he drinks like a chick, with his eye-balls lift up,
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Yet Ile warrant thee boy, he shall take off his cup:
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His Religious debauch, does the gallants out-match,
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For a Saint is his Wench, and a Psalm is his Catch.
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The Second part, to the same Tune.
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FOr the Lady of Vertue, & Honour so strict,
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That who offers her Guinneys deserves to be kickd
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Who with sport by herself, doth her fancy beguile,
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Thats ashamd of a jest, and afraid of a smile:
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May she lye by herself, till she wear out the stairs,
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Going down to her Dinner, and up to her Prayers.
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But let us that have Noble and generous souls,
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No method observe, but in filling our bouls:
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Let us frolick it round, to replenish our veins,
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And with notions divine, to enspire our brains,
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Tis a way thats Gentile, and is found to be good,
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Both to quicken the Wit, and enliven the blood.
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What a pleasure it is to see bottles before us,
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With the women among us to make up the Chorus?
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Now a Jest, now a Catch, now a Buss, now a Health,
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Till our pleasure comes on by insensible stealth,
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And when grown to a height, with our Girls we retire
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By a brisker enjoyment, to slacken the fire.
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And this is the way that the wiser do take,
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A perpetual motion in pleasure to make:
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With a flood of Obrian, we fill up each vein,
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All the Spirits of which loves Limbeck must drain:
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While the soberer Sot, has no motion of blood,
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For his fancy is nothing but puddle and Mud.
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Hes a slave to his soul, who in spight of his sence,
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With a Clog of his own putting on can dispence,
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For he Fetters himself, when at large he might rove,
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So hes tyd from the sweets of good drinking and love,
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Yet hes satisfied well, that hes thought to be wise,
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By the Dull and foolish: I mean the precise.
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For my part whatever the consequence be,
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To my will and my fancy, ile always be free,
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They are mad that do wilfully run upon shelves,
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Since dangers, and troubles, will come of themselves,
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For whoever desireth to live like a man,
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He must be without trouble as long as he can.
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And these are the pleasures true Gallants do find,
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To which if you are not, you should be enclind,
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If you follow my counsel, you take off the curse,
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And if you do not, we are never the worse:
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Yet none will refuse but a Begger or Cit,
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Who to cary on the humour, wants Money or Wit.
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