 | Pierides |  |
107. A Health.
Here's a health to her, whose PowerSurmounteth all the rest,
To her that only I adore,
To her I fancy best,
To her that can with subjects fill
My nimble Brains, or empty Quill,
And furnish me with sense divine;
It is this noble glass of Wine.
Let others fansie whom they please,
Their poor and feeble Mistresses;
Yet I will still embrace the Cup
Brim full of Sack, and hug it up.
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